Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer: A Romance of the Spanish Main
by Cyrus Townsend Brady · English · Gutenberg #29316 · 488,156 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer: A Romance of the Spanish Main
Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady
Illustrator: Will Crawford
J. N. Marchand
Release date: July 4, 2009 [eBook #29316]
Most recently updated: January 5, 2021
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIR HENRY MORGAN, BUCCANEER: A ROMANCE OF THE SPANISH MAIN ***
Produced by David Edwards, Jane Hyland and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
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[Illustration: Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer.]
_Sir Henry Morgan, BUCCANEER_
_A Romance of the Spanish Main_
_BY_
_CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY_
_Author of "For Love of Country," "For the Freedom of the Sea," "The
Southerners," "Hohenzollern," "The Quiberon Touch," "Woven with the
Ship," "In the Wasp's Nest," Etc._
[Illustration]
_Illustrations by J.N. MARCHAND and WILL CRAWFORD_
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
THE PEARSON PUBLISHING COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1903, IN
GREAT BRITAIN
[_All rights reserved_]
_Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer_ _Issued October, 1903_
_TO MY ONLY BROTHER_
COLONEL JASPER EWING BRADY
_LATE U.S. ARMY_
"Woe to the realms which he coasted! for there
Was shedding of blood and rending of hair,
Rape of maiden and slaughter of priest,
Gathering of ravens and wolves to the feast;
When he hoisted his standard black,
Before him was battle, behind him wrack,
And he burned the churches, that heathen Dane,
To light his band to their barks again."
SCOTT: "Harold the Dauntless."
_PREFACE_
In literature there have been romantic pirates, gentlemanly pirates,
kind-hearted pirates, even humorous pirates--in fact, all sorts and
conditions of pirates. In life there was only one kind. In this book
that kind appears. Several presentations--in the guise of novels--of
pirates, the like of which never existed on land or sea, have recently
appeared. A perusal of these interesting romances awoke in me a desire
to write a story of a real pirate, a pirate of the genuine species.
Much research for historical essays, amid ancient records and moldy
chronicles, put me in possession of a vast amount of information
concerning the doings of the greatest of all pirates; a man unique among
his nefarious brethren, in that he played the piratical game so
successfully that he received the honor of knighthood from King Charles
II. A belted knight of England, who was also a brutal, rapacious,
lustful, murderous villain and robber--and undoubtedly a pirate,
although he disguised his piracy under the name of buccaneering--is
certainly a striking and unusual figure.
Therefore, when I imagined my pirate story I pitched upon Sir Henry
Morgan as _the_ character of the romance. It will spare the critic to
admit that the tale hereinafter related is a work of the imagination,
and is not an historical romance. According to the latest accounts, Sir
Henry Morgan, by a singular oversight of Fate, who must have been
nodding at the time, died in his bed--not peacefully I trust--and was
buried in consecrated ground. But I do him no injustice, I hasten to
assure the reader, in the acts that I have attributed to him, for they
are more than paralleled by the well authenticated deeds of this human
monster. I did not even invent the blowing up of the English frigate in
the action with the Spanish ships.
If I have assumed for the nonce the attributes of that unaccountably
somnolent Fate, and brought him to a terrible end, I am sure abundant
justification will be found in the recital of his mythical misdeeds,
which, I repeat, were not a circumstance to his real transgressions.
Indeed, one has to go back to the most cruel and degenerate of the Roman
emperors to parallel the wickednesses of Morgan and his men. It is not
possible to put upon printed pages explicit statements of what they did.
The curious reader may find some account of these "Gentlemen of the
Black Flag," so far as it can be translated into present-day books
intended for popular reading, in my volume of "COLONIAL FIGHTS AND
FIGHTERS."
The writing of this novel has been by no means an easy task. How to
convey clearly the doings of the buccaneer so there could be no
misapprehension on the part of the reader, and yet to write with due
delicacy and restraint a book for the general public, has been a problem
with which I have wrestled long and arduously. The whole book has been
completely revised some six times. Each time I have deleted something,
which, while it has refined, I trust has not impaired the strength of
the tale. If the critic still find things to censure, let him pass over
charitably in view of what might have been!
As to the other characters, I have done violence to the name and fame of
no man, for all of those who played any prominent part among the
buccaneers in the story were themselves men scarcely less criminal than
Morgan. Be it known that I have simply appropriated names, not careers.
They all had adventures of their own and were not associated with Morgan
in life. Teach--I have a weakness for that bad young man--is known to
history as "Blackbeard"--a much worse man than the roaring singer of
these pages. The delectable Hornigold, the One-Eyed, with the "wild
justice" of his revenge, was another real pirate. So was the faithful
Black Dog, the maroon. So were Raveneau de Lussan, Rock Braziliano,
L'Ollonois, Velsers, Sawkins, and the rest.
In addition to my desire to write a real story of a real pirate I was
actuated by another intent. There are numberless tales of the brave days
of the Spanish Main, from "Westward Ho!" down. In every one of them,
without exception, the hero is a noble, gallant, high-souled,
high-spirited, valiant descendant of the Anglo-Saxon race, while the
villain--and such villains they are!--is always a proud and haughty
Spaniard, who comes to grief dreadfully in the final trial which
determines the issue. My sympathies, from a long course of reading of
such romances, have gone out to the under Don. I determined to write a
story with a Spanish gentleman for the hero, and a Spanish gentlewoman
for the heroine, and let the position of villain be filled by one of our
own race. Such things were, and here they are. I have dwelt with
pleasure on the love affairs of the gallant Alvarado and the beautiful
Mercedes.
But, after all, the story is preëminently the story of Morgan. I have
striven to make it a character sketch of that remarkable personality. I
wished to portray his ferocity and cruelty, his brutality and
wantonness, his treachery and rapacity; to exhibit, without lightening,
the dark shadows of his character, and to depict his inevitable and
utter breakdown finally; yet at the same time to bring out his dauntless
courage, his military ability, his fertility and resourcefulness, his
mastery of his men, his capacity as a seaman, which are qualities worthy
of admiration. Yet I have not intended to make him an admirable figure.
To do that would be to falsify history and disregard the artistic
canons. So I have tried to show him as he was; great and brave, small
and mean, skilful and able, greedy and cruel; and lastly, in his crimes
and punishment, a coward.
And if a mere romance may have a lesson, here in this tale is one of a
just retribution, exhibited in the awful, if adequate, vengeance finally
wreaked upon Morgan by those whom he had so fearfully and dreadfully
wronged.
CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY.
BROOKLYN, N.Y., _December, 1902_.
NOTE.--The date of the sack of Panama has been advanced to comply
with the demands of this romance.
_TABLE OF CONTENTS_
BOOK I.
HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING
AGAIN.
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--Wherein Sir Henry Morgan made good use of the
ten minutes allowed him 25
II.--How Master Benjamin Hornigold, the One-Eyed,
agreed to go with his old Captain 45
III.--In which Sir Henry Morgan finds himself at the head
of a crew once more 65
IV.--Which tells how the _Mary Rose_, frigate, changed
masters and flags 81
BOOK II.
THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS.
CHAPTER PAGE
V.--How the _Mary Rose_ overhauled three Spanish treasure
ships 97
VI.--In which is related the strange expedient of the
Captain and how they took the great galleon 115
VII.--Wherein Bartholomew Sawkins mutinied against
his Captain and what befel him on that account 128
VIII.--How they strove to club-haul the galleon and failed
to save her on the coast of Caracas 145
BOOK III.
WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS.
CHAPTER PAGE
IX.--Discloses the hopeless passion between Donna Mercedes
de Lara and Captain Dominique Alvarado,
the Commandante of La Guayra 161
X.--How Donna Mercedes tempted her lover and how he
strove valiantly to resist her appeals 174
XI.--Wherein Captain Alvarado pledges his word to the
Viceroy of Venezuela, the Count Alvaro de Lara,
and to Don Felipe de Tobar, his friend 190
XII.--Shows how Donna Mercedes chose death rather than
give up Captain Alvarado, and what befel them on
the road over the mountains 200
XIII.--In which Captain Alvarado is forsworn and with
Donna Mercedes in his arms breaks his plighted
word 218
BOOK IV.
IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE
BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND
CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY.
CHAPTER PAGE
XIV.--Wherein the crew of the galleon intercepts the two
lovers by the way 231
XV.--Tells how Mercedes de Lara returned the unsought
caress of Sir Henry Morgan and the means by
which the buccaneers surmounted the walls 248
XVI.--In which Benjamin Hornigold recognizes a cross and
Captain Alvarado finds and loses a mother on the
strand 265
XVII.--Which describes an audience with Sir Henry Morgan
and the treachery by which Captain Alvarado
benefited 283
BOOK V.
HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A
NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY.
CHAPTER PAGE
XVIII.--Discloses the way in which Mercedes de Lara fought
with woman's cunning against Captain Henry
Morgan 301
XIX.--How Captain Alvarado crossed the mountains, found
the Viceroy, and placed his life in his master's
hands 326
XX.--Wherein Master Teach, the pirate, dies better than
he lived 347
XXI.--The recital of how Captain Alvarado and Don Felipe
de Tobar came to the rescue in the nick of time 354
XXII.--In which Sir Henry Morgan sees a cross, cherishes
a hope, and makes a claim 370
XXIII.--How the good priest, Fra Antonio de Las Casas, told
the truth, to the great relief of Captain Alvarado
and Donna Mercedes, and the discomfiture of
Master Benjamin Hornigold and Sir Henry
Morgan 385
XXIV.--In which Sir Henry Morgan appeals unavailingly
alike to the pity of woman, the forgiveness of
priest, the friendship of comrade, and the hatred
of men 402
BOOK VI.
IN WHICH THE CAREER OF SIR HENRY MORGAN IS ENDED ON ISLA DE LA
TORTUGA, TO THE GREAT DELECTATION OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, HIS
SOMETIME FRIEND.
CHAPTER PAGE
XXV.--And last. Wherein is seen how the judgment of
God came upon the buccaneers in the end 421
_ILLUSTRATIONS_
BY J.N. MARCHAND
Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer _Frontispiece_
PAGE
With the point of his own sword pressed against the back
of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had
given him (_see page 39_) 41
Their blades crossed in an instant ... There was a
roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell (_see
page 87_) 89
Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand
and shot the man dead (_see page 138_) 139
Alvarado threw his right arm around her, and with a
force superhuman dragged her from the saddle (_see
page 217_) 215
The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped
over he scanned it with his one eye (_see page 267_) 269
... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted,
unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised,
bleeding, but unharmed (_see page 332_) 333
... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer,
and there rolled before him the severed head of
... his solitary friend (_see page 412_) 413
Hell had no terror like to this, which he, living,
suffered (_see page 443_) 441
BY WILL CRAWFORD
PAGE
"To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley" (_see page 44_) 25
There was one man ... who did not join in the singing
(_see page 49_) 45
Carlingford had risen in his boat ... and with
dauntless courage he shook his bared sword (_see
page 91_) 81
The high poop and rail of the Spaniard was black with
iron-capped men (_see page 121_) 115
"Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain (_see
page 143_) 128
"Are you in a state for a return journey at once, señor?"
he asked of the young officer (_see page 173_) 161
"The fault is mine," said Alvarado (_see page 183_) 174
Early as it was, the Viceroy and his officers ... bid
the travelers Godspeed (_see page 200_) 200
During the intervals of repose the young man allowed his
party, the two lovers were constantly together (_see
page 224_) 218
But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could
make a move, Morgan stepped safely on the sand (_see
page 239_) 241
"Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not!" (_see
page 281_) 265
"What would you do for him?" "My life for his," she
answered bravely (_see page 289_) 283
"Hast another weapon in thy bodice?" (_see page 319_) 321
Quite the best of the pirates, he! (_see page 351_) 347
By an impulse ... she slipped her arms around his
neck ... and kissed him (_see page 366_) 354
"Treachery? My lord, his was the first" (_see page 378_) 370
"'Tis a certificate of marriage of----" (_see page 400_) 385
"God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the
poniard, "I cannot" (_see page 386_) 387
"I wanted to let you know there was water here.... There
is not enough for both of us. Who will get it?
I; look!" (_see page 436_) 437
"Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to
follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!" He waded out into the
water ... (_see page 444_) 445
BOOK I
HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN
_SIR HENRY MORGAN, BUCCANEER_
CHAPTER I
WHEREIN SIR HENRY MORGAN MADE GOOD USE OF THE TEN MINUTES ALLOWED HIM
His Gracious Majesty, King Charles II. of England, in sportive--and
acquisitive--mood, had made him a knight; but, as that merry monarch
himself had said of another unworthy subject whom he had ennobled--his
son, by the left hand--"God Almighty could not make him a gentleman!"
[Illustration]
Yet, to the casual inspection, little or nothing appeared to be lacking
to entitle him to all the consideration attendant upon that ancient
degree. His attire, for instance, might be a year or two behind the
fashion of England and still further away from that of France, then, as
now, the standard maker in dress, yet it represented the extreme of the
mode in His Majesty's fair island of Jamaica. That it was a trifle too
vivid in its colors, and too striking in its contrasts for the best
taste at home, possibly might be condoned by the richness of the
material used and the prodigality of trimming which decorated it. Silk
and satin from the Orient, lace from Flanders, leather from Spain, with
jewels from everywhere, marked him as a person entitled to some
consideration, at least. Even more compulsory of attention, if not of
respect, were his haughty, overbearing, satisfied manner, his look of
command, the expression of authority in action he bore.
Quite in keeping with his gorgeous appearance was the richly furnished
room in which he sat in autocratic isolation, plumed hat on head,
quaffing, as became a former brother-of-the-coast and sometime
buccaneer, amazing draughts of the fiery spirits of the island of which
he happened to be, _ad interim_, the Royal Authority.
But it was his face which attested the acuteness of the sneering
observation of the unworthy giver of the royal accolade. No gentleman
ever bore face like that. Framed in long, thin, gray curls which fell
upon his shoulders after the fashion of the time, it was as cruel, as
evil, as sensuous, as ruthless, as powerful an old face as had ever
looked over a bulwark at a sinking ship, or viewed with indifference the
ravaging of a devoted town. Courage there was, capacity in large
measure, but not one trace of human kindness. Thin, lean, hawk-like,
ruthless, cunning, weather-beaten, it was sadly out of place in its
brave attire in that vaulted chamber. It was the face of a man who ruled
by terror; who commanded by might. It was the face of an adventurer,
too, one never sure of his position, but always ready to fight for it,
and able to fight well. There was a watchful, alert, inquiring look in
the fierce blue eyes, an intent, expectant expression in the craggy
countenance, that told of the uncertainties of his assumptions; yet the
lack of assurance was compensated for by the firm, resolute line of the
mouth under the trifling upturned mustache, with its lips at the same
time thin and sensual. To be fat and sensual is to appear to mitigate
the latter evil with at least a pretence at good humor; to be thin and
sensual is to be a devil. This man was evil, not with the grossness of a
debauchee but with the thinness of the devotee. And he was an old man,
too. Sixty odd years of vicious life, glossed over in the last two
decades by an assumption of respectability, had swept over the gray
hairs, which evoked no reverence.
There was a heavy frown on his face on that summer evening in the year
of our Lord, 1685. The childless wife whom he had taken for his
betterment and her worsening, some ten years since--in succession to
Satan only knew how many nameless, unrecognized precursors--had died a
few moments before, in the chamber above his head. Fairly bought from a
needy father, she had been a cloak to lend him a certain respectability
when he settled down, red with the blood of thousands whom he had slain
and rich with the treasure of cities that he had wasted, to enjoy the
evening of his life. Like all who are used for such purposes, she knew,
after a little space, the man over whom the mantle of her reputation had
been flung. She had rejoiced at the near approach of that death for
which she had been longing almost since her wedding day. That she had
shrunk from him in the very articles of dissolution when he stood by her
bedside, indicated the character of the relationship.
To witness death and to cause it had been the habit of this man. He
marked it in her case, as in others, with absolute indifference--he
cared so little for her that he did not even feel relief at her
going--yet because he was the Governor of Jamaica (really he was only
the Vice-Governor, but between the departure of the Royal Governor and
the arrival of another he held supreme power) he had been forced to keep
himself close on the day his wife died, by that public opinion to which
he was indifferent but which he could not entirely defy. Consequently he
had not been on the strand at Port Royal when the _Mary Rose_, frigate,
fresh from England, had dropped anchor in the harbor after her weary
voyage across the great sea. He did not even yet know of her arrival,
and therefore the incoming Governor had not been welcomed by the man who
sat temporarily, as he had in several preceding interregnums, in the
seats of the mighty.
However, everybody else on the island had welcomed him with joy, for of
all men who had ever held office in Jamaica Sir Henry Morgan, sometime
the chief devil of those nefarious bands who disguised their piracy
under the specious title of buccaneering, was the most detested. But
because of the fortunate demise of Lady Morgan, as it turned out, Sir
Henry was not present to greet My Lord Carlingford, who was to supersede
him--and more.
The deep potations the old buccaneer had indulged in to all outward
intent passed harmlessly down his lean and craggy throat. He drank
alone--the more solitary the drinker the more dangerous the man--yet
the room had another occupant, a tall, brawny, brown-hued, grim-faced
savage, whose gaudy livery ill accorded with his stern and ruthless
visage. He stood by the Vice-Governor, watchful, attentive, and silent,
imperturbably filling again and again the goblet from which he drank.
"More rum," said the master, at last breaking the silence while lifting
his tall glass toward the man. "Scuttle me, Black Dog," he added,
smiling sardonically at the silent maroon who poured again with steady
hand, "you are the only soul on this island who doesn't fear me. That
woman above yonder, curse her, shuddered away from me as I looked at her
dying. But your hand is steady. You and old Ben Hornigold are the only
ones who don't shrink back, hey, Carib? Is it love or hate?" he mused,
as the man made no answer. "More," he cried, again lifting the glass
which he had instantly drained.
But the maroon, instead of pouring, bent his head toward the window,
listened a moment, and then turned and lifted a warning hand. The soft
breeze of the evening, laden with the fragrance of the tropics, swept up
from the river and wafted to the Vice-Governor's ears the sound of hoof
beats on the hard, dry road. With senses keenly alert, he, also,
listened. There were a number of them, a troop possibly. They were
drawing nearer; they were coming toward his house, the slimmer house
near Spanish Town, far up on the mountain side, where he sought relief
from the enervating heats of the lower land.
"Horsemen!" he cried. "Coming to the house! Many of them! Ah, they
dismount. Go to the door, Carib."
But before the maroon could obey they heard steps on the porch. Some one
entered the hall. The door of the drawing-room was abruptly thrown open,
and two men in the uniform of the English army, with the distinguishing
marks of the Governor's Guard at Jamaica, unceremoniously entered the
room. They were fully armed. One of them, the second, had drawn his
sword and held a cocked pistol in the other hand. The first, whose
weapons were still in their sheaths, carried a long official paper with
a portentous seal dangling from it. Both were booted and spurred and
dusty from riding, and both, contrary to the custom and etiquette of the
island, kept their plumed hats on their heads.
"Sir Henry Morgan----" began the bearer of the paper.
"By your leave, gentlemen," interrupted Morgan, with an imperious wave
of his hand, "Lieutenant Hawxherst and Ensign Bradley of my guard, I
believe. You will uncover at once and apologize for having entered so
unceremoniously."
As he spoke, the Governor rose to his feet and stood by the table, his
right hand unconsciously resting upon the heavy glass flagon of rum. He
towered above the other two men as he stood there transfixing them with
his resentful glance, his brow heavy with threat and anger. But the two
soldiers made no movement toward complying with the admonition of their
sometime superior.
"D'ye hear me?" he cried, stepping forward, reddening with rage at their
apparent contumacy. "And bethink ye, sirs, had best address me, who
stand in the place of the King's Majesty, as 'Your Excellency,' or I'll
have you broke, knaves."
"We need no lessons in manners from you, Sir Henry Morgan," cried
Hawxherst, angry in turn to be so browbeaten, though yesterday he would
have taken it mildly enough. "And know by this, sir," lifting the paper,
"that you are no longer Governor of this island, and can claim respect
from no one."
"What do you mean?"
"The _Mary Rose_ frigate arrived this morning, bringing Lord Carlingford
as His Majesty's new Governor, and this order of arrest."
"Arrest? For whom?"
"For one Sir Henry Morgan."
"For what, pray?"
"Well, sir, for murder, theft, treason--the catalogue fills the paper.
You are to be despatched to England to await the King's pleasure. I am
sent by Lord Carlingford to fetch you to the jail at Port Royal."
"You seem to find it a pleasant task."
"By heaven, I do, sir!" cried the soldier fiercely. "I am a gentleman
born, of the proudest family in the Old Dominion, and have been forced
to bow and scrape and endure your insults and commands, you bloody
villain, but now----"
"'Tis no part of a soldier's duty, sir, to insult a prisoner,"
interrupted Morgan, not without a certain dignity. He was striving to
gain time to digest this surprising piece of news and thinking deeply
what was to be done in this entirely unexpected crisis.
"Curse it all, Hawxherst!" Ensign Bradley burst out, pulling at the
sleeve of his superior. "You go too far, man; this is unseemly."
Hawxherst passed his hand across his brow and by an effort somewhat
regained his self-control.
"Natheless 'tis in this paper writ that you are to go to England a
prisoner on the _Mary Rose_, to await the King's pleasure," he added,
savagely.
"His Gracious Majesty hath laid his sword upon my shoulder. I am a
knight of his English court, one who has served him well upon the seas.
His coffers have I enriched by--but let that pass. I do not believe that
King Charles, God bless him----"
"Stop! The _Mary Rose_ brings the news that King Charles II. is dead,
and there reigns in his stead His Gracious Majesty King James."
"God rest the soul of the King!" cried Morgan, lifting his hat from his
head. "He was a merry and a gallant gentleman. I know not this James.
How if I do not go with you?"
"You have ten minutes in which to decide, sir," answered Hawxherst.
"And then?"
"Then if I don't bring you forth, the men of yonder troop will come in
without further order. Eh, Bradley?"
"Quite so, Sir Henry," answered the younger man. "And every avenue of
escape is guarded. Yield you, sir; believe me, there's naught else."
"I have ten minutes then," said the old man reflectively, "ten minutes!
Hum!"
"You may have," answered the captain curtly, "if you choose to take so
long. And I warn you," he added, "that you'd best make use of that time
to bid farewell to Lady Morgan or give other order for the charge of
your affairs, for 'twill be a long time, I take it, before you are back
here again."
"Lady Morgan is dead, gentlemen, in the room above."
At this young Bradley removed his hat, an example which Hawxherst
followed a moment after. They had always felt sorry for the unfortunate
wife of the buccaneer.
"As for my affairs, they can wait," continued Morgan slowly. "The game
is not played out yet, and perchance I shall have another opportunity to
arrange them. Meanwhile, fetch glasses, Carib, from yonder buffet."
He nodded toward a huge sideboard which stood against the wall
immediately in the rear of Ensign Bradley, and at the same time shot a
swift, meaning glance at the maroon, which was not lost upon him as he
moved rapidly and noiselessly in obedience.
"Gentlemen, will you drink with me to our next merry meeting?" he
continued, turning to them.
"We're honest soldiers, honorable gentlemen, and we'll drink with no
murderer, no traitor!" cried Hawxherst promptly.
"So?" answered Morgan, his eye sparkling with baleful light, although he
remained otherwise entirely unmoved.
"And let me remind you," continued the soldier, "that your time is
passing."
"Well, keep fast the glasses, Carib, the gentlemen have no fancy for
drinking. I suppose, sirs, that I must fain yield me, but first let me
look at your order ere I surrender myself peaceably to you," said the
deposed Governor, with surprising meekness.
"Indeed, sir----"
"'Tis my right."
"Well, perchance it may be. There can be no harm in it, I think; eh,
Bradley?" queried the captain, catching for the moment his subaltern's
eye.
Then, as the latter nodded his head, the former extended the paper to
Morgan. At that instant the old buccaneer shot one desperate glance at
the maroon, who stood back of the shoulder of the officer with the drawn
sword and pistol. As Hawxherst extended the paper, Morgan, with the
quickness of an albatross, grasped his wrist with his left hand, jerked
him violently forward, and struck him a vicious blow on the temple with
the heavy glass decanter, which shivered in his hand. Hawxherst pitched
down at the Governor's feet, covered with blood and rum. So powerful had
been Morgan's blow that the brains of the man had almost been beaten
out. He lay shuddering and quivering on the floor. Quickly as Morgan
struck, however, Carib had been quicker. As the glass crashed against
the temple of the senior, the maroon had wrenched the pistol from the
junior soldier's hand, and before he realized what had happened a cold
muzzle was pressed against his forehead.
"Drop that sword!" cried Morgan instantly, and as the weapon fell upon
the floor, he continued, smiling: "That was well done, Black Dog. Quite
like old times, eh?"
"Shall I fire?" asked Carib, curling his lips over his teeth in what
passed with him for a smile.
"Not yet."
"Your Excellency," gasped poor Bradley, "I didn't want to come. I
remonstrated with him a moment since. For God's sake----"
"Silence, sirrah! And how much time have I now, I wonder?" He looked at
his watch as he asked the question. "Three minutes! Three minutes
between you and instant death, Ensign Bradley, for should one of your
men enter the room now you see what you would have to expect, sir."
"Oh, sir, have mercy----"
"Unless you do exactly what I say you will be lying there with that
carrion," cried Morgan, kicking the prostrate body savagely with his
jewelled shoes.
"What do you want me to do? For God's sake be quick, Your Excellency.
Time is almost up. I hear the men move."
"You are afraid, sir. There still want two minutes----"
"Yes, yes, but----"
"Go to the window yonder," cried the old man contemptuously--whatever he
was he was not afraid--"and speak to them. Do you, Carib, stand behind,
by the window, well concealed. If he hesitate, if he falter, kill him
instantly."
"Pistol or knife?"
"The knife, it makes less noise," cried the buccaneer, chuckling with
devilish glee. "Only one minute and a half now, eh, Mr. Bradley?"
"They're coming, they're coming!" whispered Bradley, gasping for breath.
"Oh, sir----"
"We still have a minute," answered Morgan coolly. "Now, stop them."
"But how?"
"Tell them that you have captured me; that my wife is dead; that you and
Lieutenant Hawxherst will spend the night here and fetch me down to Port
Royal in the morning; that I have yielded myself a prisoner. Bid them
stay where they are and drink to your health in bottles of rum, which
shall be sent out to them, and then to go back to Port Royal and tell
the new Governor. And see that your voice does not tremble, sir!"
There was a sudden movement outside.
"If they get in here," added Morgan quickly, "you are a dead man."
Bradley, with the negro clutching his arm, ran to the window. With the
point of his own sword pressed against the back of his neck he repeated
the message which Morgan had given him, which was received by the little
squadron with shouts of approbation. He turned from the window, pale and
trembling. Moistening his lips he whispered:
"I stopped them just in time."
"Well for you that you did," said Morgan grimly. "Come hither! Face that
wall! Now stand there! Move but a hair's-breadth, turn your head the
thousandth part of a degree, and I run you through," he added, baring
his sword. "Rum for the men without, Carib," he added, "and then tell me
when they are gone."
While the two were left alone in the room, Morgan amused himself by
pricking the unfortunate officer with the point of the weapon, at the
same time enforcing immobility and silence by the most ferocious threats
of a speedy and cruel death. The men outside drank noisily and presently
departed, and the half-breed came back.
"Bind this fool," Morgan commanded briefly. "Then bid the slaves keep
close in their cabins on pain of my displeasure--they know what it is.
Then fetch the fastest horse in the stable to the front door. Get my
riding-boots and cloak, and before you go hand me that little desk
yonder. Be quick about it, too, for time presses, although I have more
of it than these gentlemen would have allowed me."
As the maroon, after carefully lashing the officer with a seaman's
expertness, rushed out to busy himself in carrying out these commands,
Morgan opened the desk which he had handed to him and took from it
several rouleaux of gold and a little bag filled with the rarest of
precious stones; then he made a careful examination of the body on the
floor.
"Not quite dead yet," he murmured, "but there is no use wasting shot or
thrust upon him, he won't survive that blow. As for you, sir," looking
at the paralyzed ensign, lying bound upon the floor, "you thought you
could outwit the old buccaneer, eh? You shall see. I dealt with men when
you were a babe in arms, and a babe in arms you are still. Ho! Ho!"
He laughed long and loudly, though there was neither mirth nor merriment
in his sinister tones. The blood of the poor listener froze in his veins
at the sound of it.
The brief preparations which Morgan had indicated as necessary for the
journey were soon made.
[Illustration: With the point of his own sword pressed against the back
of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had given him.] He
was always promptly obeyed by his own people; the slaves fled his
presence when they could as if he had been a pestilence. At a sign from
his taciturn body-servant at the open door that the horse was ready, he
rose to his feet.
"Shall I kill this one now?" asked the maroon.
Morgan looked at the young man reflectively. The tongue of the ensign
clave to the roof of his mouth; the sweat stood out on his forehead; he
could not utter a word from fright. He was bound and trussed so tightly
that he could not make a move, either. His eyes, however, spoke volumes.
"Well," said Sir Henry deliberately, "it would be a pity to kill him--"
he paused; "in a hurry," he added.
"Dead men tell no tales."
"Eh, well, we can take care of that. Just lay him near his friend, lock
the doors when I am gone and set the place on fire. The people are all
out of the house. See they remain away. 'Twill make a hot, glorious
blaze. You know the landing opposite Port Royal?"
The half-breed nodded.
"Meet me there as quick as you can. Lose no time."
"Aye, aye, sah," answered the Carib. "And Lady Morgan, sah?"
"Let her burn with the other two. She is so saintly she may like the
fire, for I am afraid there will be none where she has gone. Good-by,
Master Bradley. You allowed me ten minutes. I take it that this house
will burn slowly at first, so perhaps you may count upon--let us
say--half an hour. I'm generous, you see. Harry Morgan's way! 'Tis a
pity you can't live to take my message to Lord Carlingford. The next
time he sends any one for me let him send men, not fools and--cowards."
"You villain! You cursed, murdering villain!" gasped Bradley at last.
"To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley, and may it be in a cooler place than
you will be in half an hour!"
CHAPTER II
HOW MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, THE ONE-EYED, AGREED TO GO WITH HIS OLD
CAPTAIN
Close under the towering walls of the old Spanish fort, now for a
quarter of a century dominated by the English flag, as if seeking
protection from its frowning battlements with their tiers of
old-fashioned guns, stood the Blue Anchor tavern. It had been a famous
resort for the bold spirits of the evil sort who had made Port Royal the
base of their operations in many a desperate sea venture in piracy in
the two decades that had just passed; but times had changed, even if men
had not changed in them.
[Illustration]
The buccaneer had been banished from the Caribbean. Whereupon, with a
circumspect prudence, he had extended his operations into the South
Seas, where he was farther from civilization, consequently harder to get
at, and, naturally, more difficult to control. Since the sack of Panama,
twenty-five years before, his fortunes had been rapidly declining. One
of the principal agents in promoting his downfall had been the most
famous rover of them all. After robbing his companions of most of their
legitimate proportion of the spoils of Panama, Sir Henry had bought his
knighthood at the hands of the venal Charles, paying for it in treasure,
into the origin of which, with his usual careless insouciance, his
easy-going majesty had not inquired any too carefully. And the old
pirate had settled down, if not to live cleanly at least to keep within
the strict letter of the law. There was thereafter nothing he abhorred
so thoroughly as buccaneering and the buccaneer--ostensibly, that is.
Like many a reformed rake this gentle child of hell, when the
opportunity came to him with the position of Vice-Governor, endeavored
to show the sincerity of his reformation by his zealous persecution. He
hanged without mercy such of his old companions in crime as fell into
his clutches. They had already vowed vengeance upon him, these sometime
brethren of the coast, for his betrayal of their confidence at Panama;
they had further resented his honor of knighthood, his cloak of
respectability, his assumption of gentility, and now that he hanged and
punished right and left without mercy, their anger and animosity were
raised to the point of fury, and many of them swore deeply with bitter
oaths that if they ever caught him defenceless they would make him pay
dearly in torture and torment for these various offences. He knew them
well enough to realize their feelings toward him, and blind fate
affording him the opportunity of the upper hand he made them rue more
bitterly than ever their wild threats against him.
He had, moreover, so conducted himself in his official position that
everybody, good, bad, and indifferent, on the island hated him. Why he
had not been assassinated long since was a mystery. But he was a
dangerous man to attack. Absolutely fearless, prompt, decisive,
resourceful, and with the powers and privileges of the office he held
besides, he had so far escaped all the dangers and difficulties of his
situation. Charles had constantly befriended him and had refused to give
ear either to the reiterated pleas of the islanders for his removal, or
to the emphatic representations of the Spanish court, which, in bitter
recollection of what he had done--and no more cruel or more successful
pirate had ever swept the Caribbean and ravaged the Spanish Main--were
persistently urged upon his notice. But with the accession of James the
situation was immediately altered. The new monarch had at once acceded
to the demand of the Spanish Ambassador, presented anew at this
opportune time, and a new Governor of Jamaica was despatched over the
sea with orders to arrest Morgan and send him to England. Hawxherst,
who, in common with all the officers of the insular army, hated the
bloodstained villain whom fortune had placed over them, had solicited
Lord Carlingford to allow him to execute the order, with what success we
have seen.
The news of the long-wished-for downfall of the tyrant had been spread
abroad and formed the one topic of conversation in Port Royal and the
vicinity that day. Now the work of the day was over and, as usual, the
Blue Anchor tavern was crowded with men from the frigate and other
shipping in the harbor, mingling with others from the purlieus of the
town. Fumes of rum and spirits pervaded the tobacco-smoked barroom which
served as the main parlor of the inn. It was yet early in the evening,
but the crowd, inflamed with liquor, was already in uproarious mood.
Over in the corner a young Englishman was singing in a rich, deep voice
a new song by a famous poet of London town:
"Let us sing and be merry, dance, joke and rejoice,
With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice!
The changeable world to our joy is unjust,
All treasure's uncertain,
Then down with your dust;
In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings and pence,
For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence.
We'll sport and be free, with Frank, Betty and Dolly,
Have lobsters and oysters to cure melancholy;
Fish dinners will make a man spring like a flea,
Dame Venus, love's lady,
Was born of the sea;
With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense.
For we shall be past it a hundred years hence."
It was a popular song, evidently, for the whole assembly joined in the
chorus--
"In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings and pence,
For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence."
They roared it out in the deep bass voices of the sea, marking the time
by hammering in unison upon the oaken tables with their pewter mugs and
flagons. The sentiment seemed to suit the company, if the zest with
which they sang be any criterion. Care was taken to insure a sufficient
pause, too, after the chorus between each of the verses, to permit the
drinking, after all the essential part of the evening's entertainment,
to be performed without hindrance.
There was one man, however, from the post of honor which he occupied at
the head of the table evidently held in high consideration among the
habitués of the inn, who did not join in the singing. He was a little
man, who made up for his shortness of stature by breadth of shoulder and
length of arm. There was an ugly black patch over his left eye; no one
had ever seen him without that patch since the day of the assault on the
fort at Chagres; an Indian arrow had pierced his eye on that eventful
day. Men told how he had gone to the surgeon requesting him to pull it
out, and when the young doctor, who had been but a short time with the
buccaneers, shrank from jerking the barb out in view of the awful pain
which would attend his action, had hesitated, reluctant, the wounded man
had deliberately torn out the arrow, and with oaths and curses for the
other's cowardice had bound up the wound himself with strips torn from
his shirt and resumed the fighting. His courage there, and before and
after, although he was an illiterate person and could neither read nor
write, had caused him to be appointed boatswain of the ship that had
carried Morgan's flag, and he had followed his leader for many years
with a blind devotion that risked all and stuck at nothing to be of
service to him.
It had been many years since Master Benjamin Hornigold, coming down from
bleak New England because he found his natural bent of mind out of
harmony with the habits and customs of his Puritan ancestors, had
drifted into buccaneering under the flag of his chief. He was an old
man now, but those who felt the force of his mighty arms were convinced
that age had not withered him to any appreciable degree.
Aside from Morgan, Hornigold had loved but one human creature, his
younger brother, a man of somewhat different stamp, who had been
graduated from Harvard College but, impelled by some wild strain in his
blood and by the example of his brother, had joined the buccaneers.
There were many men of gentle blood who were well acquainted with the
polite learning of the day among these sea rovers from time to time, and
it is related that on that same Panama excursion when "from the silent
peak in Darien" they beheld for the first time after their tremendous
march the glittering expanse of the South Seas, with white Panama in its
green trees before them, the old cry of the famous Ten Thousand,
"Thalatta! Thalatta! The sea! The sea!" had burst from many lips.
All his learning and refinement of manner had not prevented young
Ebenezer Hornigold from being as bad at heart as his brother, which is
saying a great deal, and because he was younger, more reckless, less
prudent, than he of riper years, he had incautiously put himself in the
power of Morgan and had been hanged with short shrift. Benjamin,
standing upon the outskirts of the crowd jesting and roaring around the
foot of the gibbet, with a grief and rage in his heart at his impotency,
presently found himself hating his old captain with a fierceness
proportioned to his devotion in the past. For he had appealed for mercy
personally to Morgan by the memory of his former services and had been
sternly repulsed and coldly dismissed with a warning that he should look
to his own future conduct lest, following in the course of his brother,
he should find himself with his neck in the noose.
Morgan, colossal in his conceit and careless in his courage, thought not
to inquire, or, if he gave the subject any consideration at all,
dismissed it from his mind as of little moment, as to what was the
subsequent state of Hornigold's feelings. Hornigold could have killed
Morgan on numberless occasions, but a consuming desire for a more
adequate revenge than mere death had taken hold of him, and he deferred
action until he could contrive some means by which to strike him in a
way that he conceived would glut his obsession of inexpiable hatred.
Hornigold had reformed, outwardly that is, and was now engaged in the
useful and innocent business of piloting ships into the harbor, also
steering their crews, after the anchors were down, into the Blue Anchor
tavern, in which place his voice and will were supreme. He had heard,
for Lord Carlingford had made no secret of his orders, that his old
master was to be arrested and sent back to England. The news which would
have brought joy to a lesser villain, in that it meant punishment,
filled him with dismay, for such was the peculiarity of his hatred that
he wanted the punishment to come directly from him--through his agency,
that is. He desired it to be of such character that it should be neither
speedy nor easy, and he lusted most of all that Morgan should know in
his last hours--which Hornigold prayed Satan might be long ones--to whom
he was indebted for it all.
And, strange as it may seem, there was still a certain loyalty of a
distorted, perverted kind, in the man's breast. No matter what Morgan
had done, no one else should punish him but himself. He would even have
fought for his sometime chief, were it necessary, against the King or
his law, if need be. He was therefore very much disturbed over what he
heard. Had it been possible he would have warned Morgan immediately of
his purposed arrest, but he had been detained on the frigate by
necessary duties from which he could find no means of escape until too
late. He had, however, a high sense of Sir Henry's courage and address.
He hoped and believed that he would not be taken by such men as
Hawxherst and Bradley; but if he were, Hornigold made up his mind to
rescue him.
There was a little islet in the Caribbean just below Hispaniola, in
whose wooded interior still lurked some of the old-time buccaneers,
proscribed men, who, from time to time, did pirating in a small way on
their own account; just enough to keep their hands in. If the worst
came, Hornigold, who with his little pinnace had kept in touch with them
secretly, could assemble them for the rescue of their old captain. Then
the former Governor, in his power and in their possession, could be
disposed of at their leisure and pleasure. All these things had busied
the man during the evening, and he sat even now in the midst of the
revelry about him, plunged in profound thought.
Unobserved himself, he had taken account of every man who was present.
He knew all the habitués of the port, and enjoyed a wide acquaintance
among the seamen whose vessels frequented the harbor. He decided there
were then in that room perhaps twenty men upon whom he could depend,
proper inducement being offered, for almost any sort of service. Among
these were five or six superior spirits whom he knew to be tried and
true. There was young Teach, the singer of the evening, a drunken,
dissolute vagabond, who had been discharged from his last ship for
insubordination and a quarrelsome attack upon one of his officers, for
which he had narrowly escaped hanging as a mutineer. The man was as bold
as a lion, though; he could be trusted. There, too, was Rock Braziliano,
a Portuguese half-breed, and hobnobbing with him was Raveneau de Lussan,
a Frenchman--prime seamen and bold fellows both. Further down the table,
the huge Dutchman, Velsers, was nodding stupidly over his rum.
These men and a few others were veterans like Hornigold himself. They
were the best of the lot, but for the most part the assemblage was made
up of the sweepings of the town, men who had the willingness to do
anything no matter how nefarious it might be, their only deterrent being
lack of courage. Hornigold's single eye swept over them with a fierce
gleam of contempt, yet these were they with whom he must work in case of
necessity.
One or two others in whom he reposed confidence, men who composed the
crew of his own pinnace, he had sent off early in the evening to Spanish
Town to gather what news they could. One of them came in and reported
that the squadron of horse which had gone up with the officers to bring
back Morgan had come back without him and without the officers. The
spy's insignificance prevented him from learning why this was, but hope
instantly sprang up in Hornigold's breast upon receipt of this news.
Knowing Morgan as he did, he was convinced that he had found some means
to dispose of the two officers and send away the cavalry.
He was not unprepared, therefore, when he saw the tall form of the
maroon appearing in the doorway through the smoke. No one else noticed
the silent Carib's entry, and he stood motionless until Hornigold's eye
fastened upon him. Then by an imperceptible move of his head he
indicated a desire to speak with him without the room. The one-eyed
nodded slightly in token that he understood, and the maroon vanished as
silently as he had come. Waiting a few moments, Hornigold rose from his
seat and began threading his way through the boisterous crowd toward the
door. Thrusting aside detaining hands and answering rude queries with an
old sailor's ready banter, bidding them on no account to cease the
festivities because of his departure, and in fact ordering a new draught
of rum for all hands, he succeeded in breaking away under cover of the
cheers which greeted this announcement.
It was pitch dark outside and he stopped a moment, hesitating as to what
he should do. He had no doubt but that the maroon had a message for him
from his master. But a second had elapsed when he felt a light touch on
his shoulder. His hand went instantly to the seaman's hanger at his side
and he faced about promptly. A ready man was Master Hornigold.
"It's I, bo's'n," whispered a familiar voice.
"You, Black Dog? Where's your master?"
"Yonder."
"Let me see him."
A tall, slender figure muffled in a heavy riding-coat sat in the stern
sheets of a small boat in the deepest shadow of one of the silent and
deserted piers.
"Captain Morgan?" whispered Hornigold softly, as followed by the maroon
he descended the landing stairs leading toward the boat.
"'Tis you, Master Hornigold," answered the man, with an accent of relief
in his voice, thrusting the pistol back into his belt as he spoke. He,
too, was a ready man with his weapons and one not to be caught napping
in any emergency.
"Me it is, sir," answered the boatswain, "and ready to serve my old
captain."
"You heard the news?"
"I heard it on the frigate this afternoon."
"Why did you not send me warning?"
"I had no chance. I'd 'a' done it, sir, if I could have fetched away."
"Well, all's one. I've laid those two landlubbers by the heels. Eh,
Carib?"
"Where are they, sir?"
"I might make a guess, for I left them bound and the house blazing."
"'Tis like old times!"
"Ay! I've not forgot the old tricks."
"No, sir. And what's to do now?"
"Why, the old game once more."
"What? You don't mean----"
"I do. What else is there left for me? Scuttle me, if I don't take it
out of the Dons! It's their doing. They've had a rest for nigh twenty
years. We'll let it slip out quietly among the islands that Harry
Morgan's afloat once more and there's pickings to be had on the Spanish
Main--wine and women and pieces of eight. Art with me?"
"Ay, of course. But we lack a ship."
"There's one yonder, man," cried Morgan, pointing up the harbor, where
the lights of the _Mary Rose_ twinkled in the blackness.
"To be sure the ship is there, but----"
"But what?"
"We've no force. The old men are gone."
"I am here," answered Morgan, "and you and Black Dog. And there are a
few others left. Teach is new, but will serve; I heard his bull voice
roaring out from the tavern. And de Lussan and Velsers, and the rest.
I've kept sight of ye. Curse it all, I let you live when I might have
hanged you."
"You did, captain, you did. You didn't hang everybody--but you didn't
spare, either."
It would have been better for the captain if it had been lighter and he
could have seen the sudden and sharp set of Master Hornigold's jaws,
which, coupled with the fierceness which flamed into his one eye as he
hissed out that last sentence, might have warned him that it would be
safer to thrust his head into the lion's mouth than altogether to trust
himself to his whilom follower. But this escaped him in the darkness.
"Listen," he said quickly. "This is my plan. In the morning when
Hawxherst and Bradley do not appear, the new Governor will send more
men. They will find the house burned down. No one saw us come hither.
There will be in the ruins the remains of three bodies."
"Three?"
"Yes. My Lady Morgan's."
"Did you kill her?"
"I didn't have to. They'll think that one of them is mine. No hue or cry
will be raised and no search made for me. Do you arrange that the crew
of the _Mary Rose_ be given liberty for the evening yonder at the Blue
Anchor. They've not been ashore yet, I take it?"
"No, but they will go to-morrow."
"That's well. Meanwhile gather together the bold fellows who have
stomach for a cruise and are willing to put their heads through the
halter provided there are pieces of eight on the other side, and then
we'll take the frigate to-morrow night and away for the Spanish Main.
That will give us a start. We'll pick up what we can along the coast
first, then scuttle the ship, cross the Isthmus, seize another and have
the whole South Seas before us--Peru, Manila, wherever we will."
"The King has a long arm."
"Yes, and other kings have had long arms too, I take it, but they have
not caught Harry Morgan, nor ever shall. Come, man, wilt go with me?"
"Never fear," answered Hornigold promptly. "I've been itching for a
chance to cut somebody's throat."
He did not say it was Morgan's throat, but the truth and sincerity in
his voice carried conviction to the listening captain.
"Thou bloody butcher!" he laughed grimly. "There will be plenty of it
anon."
"Where will you lay hid," asked the boatswain, "until to-morrow night?"
"I have thought of that," said Morgan promptly. "I think the best place
will be the cabin of your pinnace. I'll just get aboard, Black Dog here
and I, and put to sea. To-morrow night at this hour we'll come back here
again and you will find us here at the wharf."
"A good plan, Master Morgan," cried Hornigold, forgetting the title as
the scheme unfolded itself to him. "What's o'clock, I wonder?"
As he spoke the sound of a bell tapped softly came floating over the
quiet water from the _Mary Rose_.
"Four bells," answered Morgan listening; "at ten of the clock, then, I
shall be here."
"Leave the rest to me, sir," answered Hornigold.
"I shall. That will be your boat yonder?"
"Ay. Just beyond the point."
"Is anybody aboard of her?"
"No one."
"Is there rum and water enough for one day?"
"Plenty. In the locker in the cuddy."
"Good! Come, Carib. Until to-morrow night, then!"
"Ay, ay, sir," said Hornigold, leaning over the pier and watching the
boat fade into a black blur on the water as it drew away toward the
pinnace.
"He's mine, by heaven, he's mine!" he whispered under his breath as he
turned and walked slowly up to the house.
Yet Master Hornigold meant to keep faith with his old captain. He was
sick and tired of assumed respectability, of honest piloting of ships to
the harbor, of drinking with worthy merchantmen or the King's sailors.
The itch for the old buccaneering game was hard upon him. To hear the
fire crackle and roar through a doomed ship, to lord it over shiploads
of terrified men and screaming women, to be sated with carnage and drunk
with liquor, to dress in satins and velvets and laces, to let the broad
pieces of eight run through his grimy fingers, to throw off restraint
and be a free sailor, a gentleman rover, to return to the habits of his
earlier days and revel in crime and sin--it was for all this that his
soul lusted again.
He would betray Morgan, yet a flash of his old admiration for the man
came into his mind as he licked his lips like a wolf and thought of the
days of rapine. There never was such a leader. He had indeed been the
terror of the seas. Under no one else would there be such prospects for
successful piracy. Yes, he would do all for him faithfully, up to the
point of revenge. Morgan's plan was simple and practicable. De Lussan,
Teach, Velsers and the rest would fall in with it gladly. There would
be enough rakehelly, degraded specimens of humanity, hungry and
thirsty, lustful and covetous, in Port Royal--which was the wickedest
and most flourishing city on the American hemisphere at the time--to
accompany them and insure success, provided only there would be reward
in women and liquor and treasure. He would do it. They would all go
a-cruising once more, and then--they would see.
He stayed a long time on the wharf, looking out over the water,
arranging the details of the scheme outlined by Morgan so brilliantly,
and it was late when he returned to the parlor of the Blue Anchor Inn.
Half the company were drunk on the floor under the tables. The rest were
singing, or shouting, or cursing, in accordance with their several
moods. Above the confusion Hornigold could hear Teach's giant voice
still roaring out his reckless refrain; bitter commentary on their
indifference it was, too--
"Though life now is pleasant and sweet to the sense,
We'll be damnably moldy a hundred years hence."
"Ay," thought the old buccaneer, pausing in the entrance, for the
appositeness of the verses impressed even his unreflective soul, "it
will be all the same in a hundred years, but we'll have one more good
cruise before we are piped down for the long watch in."
He chuckled softly and hideously to himself at the fatalistic idea.
By his orders, enforced by the vigorous use of seamen's colts, the inn
servants at once cleared the room of the vainly protesting revellers.
Those whose appearance indicated a degree of respectability which
promised payment for their accommodation, were put to bed; the common
sort were bundled unceremoniously out on the strand before the door and
left to sober up as best they might in the soft tropic night. Teach,
Raveneau, and the Brazilian were detained for conference with the
boatswain. To these worthies, therefore, Hornigold unfolded Morgan's
plan, which they embraced with alacrity, promising each to do his share.
Velsers was too stupidly drunk to be told anything, but they knew they
could count upon him without fail.
CHAPTER III
IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN FINDS HIMSELF AT THE HEAD OF A CREW ONCE MORE
The next morning, after waiting a reasonable time for a message from the
two soldiers at Spanish Town, Lord Carlingford, the new Governor, who
had taken up his residence temporarily at Port Royal, summoned his
attendants, and himself repaired to the seat of Government to ascertain
why no further report had been received from his officers. Great was his
astonishment when he found that the residence of the Vice-Governor had
been destroyed by fire during the night. The frightened slaves could
tell nothing. Morgan and Carib had taken care that no one had marked
their departure. Consequently when the search of the ruins revealed the
remains of three bodies, so badly charred as to be unrecognizable, it
was naturally inferred at first that they were those of the buccaneer
and the two unfortunate officers. It was known among the people of the
place, however, that Lady Morgan had been seriously ill, so ill that
she could not have been removed, and there were some who suspected that
one of the bodies was hers and that the arch-fiend himself had by some
means disposed of the officers and escaped. Therefore a hue and cry was
raised for him and a strict search instituted by order of the Governor,
who, after setting affairs in motion, returned to Port Royal.
Troops were accordingly ordered out, and even details of surly seamen,
growling at being deprived of their accustomed shore liberty, were
detailed from the frigate, which happened to be the only war vessel in
commission in the harbor. Hornigold, Raveneau, and one or two of the
others known to be former companions of the buccaneer, were closely
interrogated, but they stoutly declared they did not know his
whereabouts and had seen nothing of him. Later in the afternoon it was
observed that Hornigold's pinnace was not in the harbor. Indeed, with
cunning adroitness that master mariner himself called attention to the
fact, cursing the while his old commander for his alleged theft of the
boat, and declaring his willingness to join in the search for him. It
was known to the authorities that the execution of the boatswain's
brother by Morgan had shattered the old intimacy which subsisted between
them; consequently his protestations were given credence and suspicion
of collusion was diverted from him.
Lord Carlingford finally determined to send the _Mary Rose_ to sea in an
endeavor to overhaul the pinnace, in the hope that the former
Vice-Governor might be found on her, although the chances of success
were but faint. The frigate, however, was not provisioned or watered for
a cruise, after her long voyage from England. There had been
considerable scurvy and other sickness on the ship and she was in no
condition to weigh anchor immediately; she would have to be re-supplied
and the sick men in her crew replaced by drafts from the shore. Besides,
in accordance with the invariable custom, the great majority of the men
had been given shore leave for that afternoon and evening, and those few
who were not on duty were carousing at the Blue Anchor Inn and similar
taverns and would be utterly unable to work the ship, should they be
called upon to do so, without being given a chance to sober up. This
would take time, and Lord Carlingford upon the representations of his
sea officers decided to wait until the morrow before commencing work.
One secret of Morgan's success was the promptness with which he struck.
Nobler and better men could have learned a lesson from this old
buccaneer, notably the Governor.
As he could do so, not only personally but through his able
lieutenants, Hornigold busied himself during the day and the preceding
night in enlisting as vicious a gang of depraved ruffians as could be
gathered together in what was perhaps the wickedest city in the world.
It had been decided after conference between the leaders that there was
no place within the confines of Port Royal itself where so many men
could meet without exciting suspicion. He had accordingly appointed a
rendezvous for the night across the narrow entrance to the harbor,
opposite the fort, under the trees which overshadowed the strand, some
distance back from high-water mark. Singly or in groups of two or three,
the men had gone across in boats after sunset, successfully eluding
observation, for the night was moonless and very dark.
There was no room, indeed, for suspicion on the part of the authorities,
save in the bare fact of the possible escape of Morgan; but it had been
twenty years since that worthy had gone buccaneering, and, except in the
minds of his former companions and participants, much of the character
of his exploits had passed out of mind. No special watch was kept,
therefore, in fort or town or on the ship. Morgan was gone certainly,
but nothing was feared from a single proscribed man.
There was rum in plenty under the trees on the point, but care was taken
by Rock Braziliano, Raveneau, and the others, even including Velsers,
that no one should drink enough to lose entire control of his faculties
or to become obstreperous. Just enough was given to make the timid bold,
and the hardy reckless. They knew the value of, and on occasion could
practise, abstinence, those old buccaneers, and they were determined to
keep their men well in hand. No fires were lighted, no smoking
permitted. Strict silence was enjoined and enforced. It was perhaps ten
o'clock before all were assembled.
When morning had cleared their brains of the rum they had taken, there
had been ferocious opposition on the part of the older men. Not that
they objected to buccaneering. They were eager for the chance once more,
but the memory of Morgan's betrayals of his old comrades rankled deep.
There were many beside Hornigold who had promised themselves the luxury
of vengeance upon their old commander. There were none, however, who had
so dwelt upon it as the boatswain, nor were there any whose animosity
and determination compared to his fierce hatred. He was therefore able,
at last, to persuade them into a surly willingness to accept Morgan as
their captain in this new enterprise. Indeed, without him they could do
nothing, for there was no one who possessed the ability or experience to
lead them save he. The best men of the old stamp were now in the South
Seas and far away; they had been driven from the Caribbean. It was not
difficult for Hornigold to show them that it must be Morgan or no one.
Their feelings of animosity were, perforce, sunk beneath the surface,
although they smouldered still within their breasts. They would go with
him, they said. But let him look to himself, they swore threateningly.
If he betrayed them again, there were men among them who would kill him
as remorselessly as they would stamp on a centipede. If he behaved
himself and the expedition on which he was to lead them proved
successful, they might forgive him--all but old Hornigold. Truth to
tell, there was no one among them who felt himself so wronged or so
badly treated as the one-eyed envenomed sailor.
The bulk of the party, which numbered perhaps one hundred men, were
simply plain, ordinary thieves, cut-throats, broken-down seamen, land
sharks and rascals. Not much was to be expected of them. They were not
of the stuff of which the old-time buccaneers had been made, but they
were the best to be obtained at that time in Port Royal. Even they would
not have been so easily assembled had they realized quite what was
expected of them. They knew, of course, that they were committing
themselves to some nefarious undertaking, but to each recruit had been
vouchsafed only enough information to get him to come to the
rendezvous--no more. They were a careless, drunken, dissolute lot.
By Hornigold's orders they were told off in five parties of about twenty
each, commanded respectively by himself, Velsers, Raveneau, the
Brazilian, and the last by Teach, who, though the youngest of the
leaders, had a character for daring wickedness that would stop at
nothing. With much difficulty the boatswain had succeeded in obtaining
five boats, each capable of carrying one band. Every one brought his own
arms, and in general these men did not lack a sufficiency of weapons.
Those who were deficient, however, were supplied from a scanty stock
which the leaders had managed to procure.
All was in readiness, when one of the men who had been stationed on the
extreme edge of the beach toward the channel reported the approach of a
small boat looking like the pinnace.
The wind, fortunately for the enterprise, happened to be blowing fresh
out of the harbor and it was necessary for the pinnace to beat up toward
the entrance. She showed no lights, but, as she tacked in close to the
shore, between the watcher and the lights of the town, he observed her.
The boat was handled with consummate skill; she dropped anchor and
hauled down her sails noiselessly just abreast the pier which had been
appointed the rendezvous by the two men on the night before. As soon as
Hornigold learned of the approach he took a small boat, leaving Velsers
in command of the band on shore, and repaired with the other leaders to
the wharf on the other side. As the boat approached the wharf it was
hailed in a sharp whisper.
"Who comes?" cried the voice on shore.
"Hornigold!" answered the boatswain in a low tone, as the boat swept
alongside.
"So, 'tis you, is it?" cried Morgan, attended by the maroon as usual,
again putting his pistol back into his belt. "Seeing so many of you in
the skiff, I feared a trap until you gave the word."
"I've brought along Raveneau, the Brazilian, and young Teach," said the
boatswain.
"Welcome, my hearties, all!" said the Vice-Governor softly. "We're off
to the Spanish Main with a good ship, plenty of liquor beneath the
hatches, brave hearts to run her. There will be plenty of pickings meet
for any man. Are you with me?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"We are," answered one and another.
The place where they stood was lonely and deserted at that time of
night, but Hornigold suggested that they immediately repair to the other
side, there to perfect their further plans. Indeed, they had no plans
as yet. There was not head enough among them to concoct the details of
the scheme, although no better instruments for an expedition than the
chief and those assembled under him could be gathered together. They had
waited for Morgan.
"You speak well," answered the captain. "Are all preparations made?"
"All we could make without you, captain," replied Hornigold as the party
re-entered the boat.
"How many men have you gathered?"
"About five score."
"Boats?"
"Five."
"Will they carry all?"
"With a little crowding."
"Who leads each boat?"
"I, one, sir, with your permission; Raveneau here, another; the
Brazilian, the third; young Teach, a fourth, and Velsers----"
"Where is he?"
"With the rest of the men--the fifth."
"Good! Are they all armed?"
"Every man has a sword and a pistol at least."
"What of the men?"
"A poor lot," answered Teach, recklessly. "A dastardly crew."
"Will they fight, think ye?"
"Curse me, they'll have to fight; we'll make them!" said Hornigold.
"Do they know what's up?"
"Not exactly," answered Raveneau, the Frenchman, a man of good birth and
gentle manners, but as cruel and ruthless a villain as any that ever cut
a throat or scuttled a ship. "Have no fear, captain," he continued
smoothly. "Once we start them, they will have to fight."
"Did you ever know me to show fear, de Lussan?" cried the captain
bending forward and staring at the Frenchman, his eyes glittering in the
darkness like those of a wildcat.
"No, captain."
"No, nor did any other man," answered Morgan, and from where he sat
Hornigold marked the little dialogue and swore in his heart that this
man who boasted so should beg for his life at his hand, with all the
beseeching pity of the veriest craven, before he finished with him. But
for the present he said nothing. After a short pause, Morgan resumed:
"Have they suspected my escape?"
"They have," answered the boatswain. "They found the remains of the
three bodies in the burned house this morning. At first they thought one
of them was yours, but they decided after a while that one was a woman,
and they guessed that you had made away with the officers and escaped.
I told them you had stolen my pinnace and got away."
"You did, eh?"
"Yes."
"And he swore and cursed you roundly, captain," interposed the Brazilian
chuckling maliciously. "Aye, sir, he swore if he got hands on you he
would give you up."
Morgan turned this time to Hornigold. He was by no means sure of his
position. He knew the enmity of these men, and he did not know how far
their cupidity or their desire to take up the old life once more under
such fortunate auspices as would be afforded under his command would
restrain them.
"Master Ben Hornigold, said ye that?" he queried. "Would ye betray me?"
His hand stole to his waist and his fingers closed around his pistol
grip.
"No fear, captain," answered that worthy composedly, sustaining the
captain's searching gaze. A braver man never stepped a deck than he. "I
did it to divert their attention. You see, they fancied at first that we
old sea-dogs might have something to do with your escape, but I
undeceived them. They reckoned that you had been hard on us and that we
might be hard on ye----"
"No more of this, gentlemen, the past is gone. We begin again," cried
Morgan fiercely. "And mark me, the man who betrays Harry Morgan will not
live many minutes to boast of it! I'd kill him if he sat on the steps of
a throne. Easy there!" he called out to the oarsmen, assuming the
command as by right, while the boat's keel grated on the shingle. "All
out now and lead the way. Nay, gentlemen, you shall all precede me.
Carib, here, will bring up the rear. And it may be well for you to keep
your weapons in your belts."
Much impressed, the little party disembarked and walked rapidly toward
the place of assemblage, under the trees. Morgan and the maroon came
last, each of them with a bared sword and cocked pistol.
"Lads," said Hornigold, as they approached the men, "here's your
captain, Sir Henry Morgan."
"The Governor!" cried one and another, in surprise and alarm. The man
had been a terror to evildoers too poor to bribe.
"Nay, men, Governor no more," Morgan answered promptly. "A free sailor
who takes the sea against the Spanish Dons. We'll go buccaneering as in
the old days. These men here," pointing to the group of officers, "can
tell you what it means. You have heard tales of the jolly roving life of
the brethren-of-the-coast. We'll do a little picking in the Caribbean,
then over the Isthmus, and then down into the South Seas. There's wine
and women and treasure to be had for the taking. The Spaniards are
cowards. Let them hear that Harry Morgan is once more on the sea under
the Jolly Roger and they will tremble from Darien down to the Straits of
Magellan. It will be fair play and the old shares. Who's with me?"
"I!" "I!" "I!" broke from the bolder spirits of the crowd, and the rest,
catching the contagion, finally joined in the acclaim.
"Easy," said the captain, "lest we be heard. Hornigold, is there
liquor?"
"Plenty, sir."
"Let each man have a noble draught, then to the boats."
"But, captain," spoke up Sawkins, one of the boldest recruits, who was
not in the secret, "be ye goin' buccaneerin' in boats? Whar's the ship?"
"I have a ship in the harbor," cried Morgan, "well found and provided."
"Ay, but what ship?"
"Confusion, sir!" shouted Morgan. "Begin ye by questioning me? Into the
boat with your comrades! Velsers, de Lussan, Rock see that the men get
into the boats as soon as they have their dram. And hark ye, gentlemen,
a word with ye!" calling them apart while the rest were being served.
"Put the boldest men in the stern sheets with yourselves, the rest at
the oars, and do you have your weapons ready. The _Mary Rose_ lies just
within the bar. You, Velsers and Rock, gain the fo'c'sl from larboard
and starboard. You, Teach and Raveneau, board at the different gangways.
Hornigold, I'll go in your boat and we'll attend to the cabin. Let all
be done without noise. No pistols, use the blade. Take no prisoners and
waste no time. If we gain the deck without difficulty, and I think we
can, clap to the hatch covers and we'll cut cable and get under way at
once."
The men had been embarking in the boats rather reluctantly as he spoke,
but presently all was ready. Finally Hornigold and then Morgan with the
maroon stepped into the last boat, first making sure there were no
stragglers left behind, and Morgan gave the command:
"Shove off!"
Sawkins, the bold spirit who had spoken before, presumed, in spite of
the commander's threat, to open his mouth again as the boats slowly left
the beach, rowing through the passage and up the harbor against the ebb
just beginning; he pulled the stroke oar in Hornigold's boat.
"Before I go further," he cried, "I want to know what ship we're goin'
aboard of."
"Ay!" came in a subdued roar from the men behind him, who only needed a
leader to back out of the enterprise, which, as it threatened to involve
fighting, began to seem not quite so much to their taste. "What ship?"
"The frigate," answered Hornigold shortly.
"What! The _Mary Rose_! The King's ship!" cried the men, ceasing to row.
In an instant Morgan's pistol was out. His motion was followed by
Hornigold and the maroon.
"Row, you dogs!" he cried fiercely.
The stroke oarsman hesitated, although the others tried to pick up the
stroke.
"I give you one minute, then I blow out your brains, pull out the plug
in this boat, and we'll all go to hell together," said Morgan
truculently to the recalcitrant men.
"Row, for your life's sake!" cried the man behind Sawkins, hitting him
in the back with the haft of the oar.
"It's the King's ship!"
"What do we care for the King?" said Morgan. "He is the law, and none of
us love the law. Two-thirds of her crew are drunk, t'other third are
ashore or sick. They are unprepared, asleep. There'll be naught but the
anchor watch. One sharp blow, and we have the frigate--then away. What
fear ye, lads?"
By such words as these, but more by the threatening appearance of the
weapons pointed from the stern sheets, Morgan inspirited his men; and by
similar language and threats, the men in the other boats did the same.
After rowing a short distance the flotilla separated. Those approaching
from the farther side of the ship necessarily made a wide détour, for
which the others waited, so they would all arrive simultaneously. After
a suitable time the order was passed softly to give way again. In
perfect silence, broken only by the "cheep" of the oars in the locks,
the five boats swept down on the doomed frigate.
CHAPTER IV
WHICH TELLS HOW THE "MARY ROSE" FRIGATE CHANGED MASTERS AND FLAGS
[Illustration]
The _Mary Rose_ was a ship with a history. The battle roster of the
English navy had borne many of her name. In each instance she had been
found in the thickest of the fighting. The present vessel was an old
ship, having been built some thirty years before, but she was still
stanch and of a model which combined strength with speed. The most
conspicuous expedition she had participated in had been a desperate
defence of a convoy in the Mediterranean against seven Sallee rovers, in
which, after a hard engagement lasting four hours, the _Mary Rose_
triumphed decisively without losing a single sail of her convoy. A rude
song was made about the action, and the two lines of the ballad, summing
up the results, were painted around the wheel:
"Two we burnt, and two we sank, and two did run away,
And one we carried to Leghorn Roads, to show we'd won the day."
The commander of the ship on this memorable and heroic occasion had been
knighted on his return to England, and on the accession of James had
been sent to Jamaica with Lord Carlingford as Vice-Governor, to take
command of the naval station and supersede Morgan. Admiral Sir John
Kempthorne was an elderly man at this time, but his spirit was the same
that had enabled him to withstand so successfully the overwhelming
onslaught of the Algerine pirate ships.
The English navy, however, was then in a state of painful decay. The
famous Test Act, which excluded James from the naval service while he
was Duke of York, because he was a Roman Catholic, had deprived the navy
of its most influential and able friend. The greedy rapacity with which
Charles II. had devoted the money assigned by the Commons for the
support of the fleet to his own lustful and extravagant purposes, the
favoritism and venality which he allowed in the administration of the
Admiralty, and the neglect with which he viewed the representations of
Pepys and others as to the condition of his fleets, had reduced the
navy of England, which had won such immortal glory under Blake, to the
very lowest depth it ever reached. The ships were in bad repair and
commanded by landsmen who shirked going to sea; they were ill-found, the
wages of the seamen not paid--in short, they presented pictures of
demoralization as painful as they were unusual.
Kempthorne, having been a tried and a successful naval commander in his
younger days, had striven, with some success so far as his own ship was
concerned, to stem the prevailing tide of ruin, and the _Mary Rose_ was
perhaps one of the best frigates in the service, which, however, was not
saying a great deal. He could not, of course, better the character of
the crew which had been provided for him, nor could he entirely
re-supply the ship, or make good her faulty and deficient equipment, but
he did the best he could. Under ordinary circumstances he could have
given a good account of himself if engaged with even the perfectly
appointed ships of the Dutch Republic, or of the Grand Monarch himself.
Indeed, in spite of the horrible degeneracy, the prestige of victory was
still, as it has ever been, with England. King James, a successful, even
brilliant naval commander in his youth, had decided to rehabilitate the
navy with a view to putting it on its old footing, and with that object
in view he had sent one of his best admirals across the sea to the
important island of Jamaica, then the headquarters of the West India
Squadron.
Kempthorne had welcomed the duty, and had determined that so far as the
station at Port Royal was concerned he would make it the model one of
the colonies, of the kingdom itself for that matter, provided he were
sustained by the King as had been promised. Lord Carlingford, with the
zeal of a new appointee, had promised his coöperation.
The admiral was seated in the cabin of the frigate that night cogitating
upon his plans, when his thoughts were interrupted by the rattle of
oars, indicating the arrival of a boat. The sound of the approaching
boat came faintly through the open stern windows of the cabin under the
high poop-deck.
The ship was more or less deserted. The sick men had been put ashore;
most of the crew, and the officers as well, had followed them. They
would not be back until the morrow, when Sir John had orders to get away
in pursuit of Hornigold's pinnace. With the captain in the cabin,
however, was the old master of the ship, a man who had been promoted to
that rank after the famous fight with the Algerines because of his
gallantry in that action. Kempthorne was consulting with him about the
necessary arrangements before sailing the next day.
As the admiral heard the noise made by the oars in the oarlocks he
raised his voice, and calling a sentry, for there was half a platoon of
soldiers on board who had not yet been allowed liberty (the beginnings
of the Royal Marine of England, by the way), he bade him ascertain if
the approaching boat was that containing the Governor. It was still
early evening, and Lord Carlingford had announced his intention of
sleeping in the ship, for the weather was intensely warm and he thought
it might be cooler in the harbor than in the crowded low-lying town of
Port Royal.
At the same time the admiral arose, buckled on his sword, and made ready
to go on deck to meet Lord Carlingford, should it prove to be his
expected visitor. Pausing a moment to say a final word to the master, he
was conscious of something striking the ship. Before he could formulate
the idea that a boat must have been hit in the bends, there were several
similar shocks. The old master, who happened to be unarmed, stepped
forward.
"That will be a boat, sir," he said quickly, "striking against the side
of the ship. There's another, and another!"
His voice indicated surprise and some apprehension. What could it be?
"Let us go on deck at once," said Kempthorne, stepping forward. As he
did so the silence was broken by a wild, terrified cry. A moment after,
the sentry on the quarter-deck outside the entrance to the poop cabin
fired his piece. The shot was followed by the sound of a fierce blow,
and then a heavy fall. A sharp, imperious voice cried quickly:
"The ship is ours! Waste no time! Overboard with him! Clap to the hatch
covers!"
The necessity for concealment outside was apparently at an end. The
heavy covers were flung down upon the hatches and secured. The ship was
filled with a confused babel of many voices and trampling feet. At the
sound of the shot, the admiral and the master sprang to the door, but
before they could pass the entrance it was flung violently open, and a
man richly dressed after the fashion of Jamaica, followed by a tall,
savage-looking half-breed, a compound of negro and Indian, clad in a
gorgeous livery, each with pistol and sword, sprang into the room and
forced the two men back. As soon as he could recover himself Kempthorne
whipped out his sword. He found himself covered, however, as did the
master, with a pistol.
"Throw down your sword!" cried Morgan fiercely, "and yield yourselves
without quarter."
"Who are you that ask?"
"Sir Henry Morgan."
"You bloody villain!" cried Kempthorne. "Dare you attempt to take the
King's ship?"
"That for the King!" answered Morgan, waving his sword. "Who are you?"
"Sir John Kempthorne, Admiral and Vice-Governor of Jamaica."
"You would fain fill my station, would you, sir?"
"I would not descend to the station of a pirate, a robber, a murderer,
a----"
"S'death, silence!" roared Morgan furiously. "The ship is ours! I've a
message for the King. Wilt carry it?"
"I would not insult my royal master by carrying a message from such as
you."
"You will have it!" shouted Morgan, white with rage, lunging forward at
him.
Their blades crossed in an instant, and at the same moment the old
master, reckless of what happened, flung himself between the two. There
was a roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell. As Kempthorne
relaxed his guard slightly in the confusion Morgan ran him through. The
admiral fell so suddenly that he jerked the blade, buried in his breast,
out of the buccaneer's hand.
"God--" he gasped, as he lay upon the body of the old sailor, "God--save
the--King."
"Would'st sit in my place, eh?" cried Morgan, laughing truculently as
he turned on his heel and left the cabin.
Beneath the hatches, the platoon of soldiers and the men there
imprisoned were yelling and making a tremendous racket. They were
helpless, however, and could do nothing. The men of the boarding parties
were clustered in groups forward and aft and around the closed
passageways into the interior of the ship, waiting for the next order.
The noise and confusion which had followed the sentry's bold shot had
awakened the attention of the people of the town. Lights twinkled on the
ramparts of the fort, and the long roll of a drum could be heard coming
faintly up the harbor against the wind. Lord Carlingford had just
entered his boat to board the ship. There was not a moment to lose.
"Hornigold, go forward with your men to the forecastle. Velsers, come
you hither with yours for the after guard. Teach, to the fore; Raveneau,
to the main; and Rock, to the mizzenmast. Loose sail. Lively now. We
must get out of this before the fort's awake," cried Morgan.
[Illustration: Their blades crossed in an instant.... There was a roar
from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell.]
Instantly the shrouds were covered with nimble forms making their way
aloft where the wide yard-arms stretched far over the sea. The men were
in good spirits. The capture of the ship had been so easy; there had
been only the anchor watch and the sentry on deck to deal with, and
they had been murdered unsuspecting, although the cabin sentry had
killed one of the attacking party and wounded another before he went
down. They jumped with alacrity, therefore, to obey their captain's
commands. As the ponderous sheets of canvas fell from the yards, the men
lay down from aloft, and sheets and halyards were manned, the cable that
moored the vessel to the anchor was cut, the ship swung to starboard,
the yards were braced in, and she began to slip through the water toward
the narrow mouth of the harbor. There were other war vessels in the
harbor, but they were all dismantled and laid up in ordinary, so the
buccaneers had no pursuit to fear.
The guns of the fort commanded the harbor mouth, and under ordinary
circumstances would have made it impossible for a ship to enter or leave
without permission. The mouth was narrow and dangerous, but the best
pilot in the West Indies stood forward leaning over the knightheads,
conning the ship. Raveneau and Velsers, than whom no better seamen ever
held a spoke, by Morgan's orders were stationed at the wheel to steer
the frigate. Rock and Teach distributed the best of the men among the
guns of the spar-deck battery on the port side. As was usual, the guns
were already charged. There were no loggerheads available, no matches
with which to fire them, but Morgan instructed those who seemed to have
some skill in gunnery, whom he placed in temporary charge of the cannon,
how to fire them by snapping their pistols at the touch-holes, which
were primed from a powder horn that had been brought by the pirates.
The land breeze was fresh and strong, and the _Mary Rose_ vindicated her
claim to be considered a fast sailer. She fairly ripped down the harbor,
threading her way through the channel under Hornigold's nice pilotage
until she came near to the narrow entrance. By Morgan's orders each man
remained motionless at the place where he had been stationed, and the
ship, so far as human noise was concerned, was as still as death. Even
the soldiers below, finding no attention paid to their cries, had
subsided into comparative quiet. The silence was broken only by the
creaking of cordage, the dashing of water against the bows, and the
groaning of the timbers. Ever and anon Hornigold's deep voice, crying
"Larboard" or "Starboard" as the case might be, rolled along the deck to
the watchful men gripping the wheel. Suddenly the old buccaneer cried
out sharply:
"There's a boat right ahead, sir."
"Run her down!" answered Morgan instantly.
"Ay, ay! Starboard! Starboard again! Let her go off another half-point.
Steady! Very well dyce. Now! Meet her! Meet her!"
The ship swept around slightly and rushed directly at the boat. It was
the boat of the Governor. Instantly wild cries arose from the men on the
thwarts. They were stopped by a stern voice.
"Ahoy, the _Mary Rose_!"
Silence.
"Ahoy, the frigate! What are you doing? Where is Admiral Kempthorne?"
At that instant the soldiers beneath the hatches suddenly resumed their
commotion, thus apprising the men in the boat that something was sadly
wrong.
"Larboard your helm!" cried a voice from the boat, "or you'll be on us.
Who's in command? What are you about?"
"Sir Harry Morgan!" shouted a voice out of the darkness. "And we mean to
run you down."
"Back water, for God's sake! Stern, all!" cried Lord Carlingford to the
paralyzed rowers; but before they could move the looming bow of the
frigate was upon them. Carlingford had risen in his boat before the
collision, and with dauntless courage he shook his bared sword in the
darkness toward the ship.
"The King will triumph!" he cried.
"You can go to hell!" shouted Morgan, "with Hawxherst and Bradley and
Kempthorne and all who oppose me."
A terrible, smashing crash cut short his words, and, amid the ripping,
tearing sound of the parting timbers of the overridden boat, and shouts,
cries, and appeals for mercy, the _Mary Rose_ swept on. One or two
beneath her forefoot leaped frantically at the bobstays, but they were
driven from their holds by savage pike thrusts from Hornigold's men.
A wild yell of elation broke from the pirates. They were completely
possessed by their success now, but Morgan stopped the noise in an
instant.
"Silence!" roared the captain. "We are not yet free. Back to your
stations! Stand by the larboard battery!"
At that time the entrance to the harbor was very narrow, and the channel
swept close under the Port Royal shore. Everybody in the town knew that
something had happened on the frigate. The garrison of the fort was out
and the guns were loaded and bore fair upon the channel. Softly, for
they were within earshot distance of the fort, Morgan passed the word to
train the guns of the battery on the parapet of the fort. He also told
off all the men with small arms to line the side, with instructions for
them to fire at the port-holes of the fort as they passed, and he
charged every one, under pain of death, to keep all fast until he gave
the word. Hornigold bent all his mind to getting the ship safely out of
the harbor. Two or three reliable men were stationed in the gangway,
whose sole business it was to repeat his commands without fail during
the confusion, no matter what happened. They were right in the entrance
now, and coming opposite the fort. The men below were still keeping up a
great noise, but a hail which came across the water from the rampart was
entirely audible, the distance not being more than half pistol shot.
"Hello, the _Mary Rose_! Hello, the frigate!"
"Ay, ay! What is it?"
"Where are you going? Where's Lord Carlingford?"
There was no answer. The rapidly moving ship was fairly abreast the fort
now. In thirty seconds she would be beyond it.
"We have killed the Governor and Kempthorne, and this is the ship of Sir
Henry Morgan, bound for the Spanish Main on a buccaneering cruise.
Fire!"
A perfect hail of shot at point blank range belched forth from the
twenty-four guns of the larboard battery of the onrushing ship. In the
surprise and confusion caused by this murderous discharge at short
range, the frigate slipped by, and although every gun in the fort,
whether it bore or not, was finally discharged by the infuriated
soldiery, no serious damage was done to the ship. Here and there a man
fell. The starboard main topsail sheet was cut, a few ropes parted, but
that was all. Pouring a perfect hail of musketry and pistol fire upon
the surprised garrison, which did execution, the frigate slipped through
the channel. Before the cannon could be reloaded they were out of range.
There before them lay the open sea, bounded to the southward by the rich
and unprotected cities of the Spanish Main.
"We're out of the harbor, sir," cried Hornigold, coming aft to where
Morgan stood triumphant on the poop.
"That's well!" said the commander. "Secure the guns and muster the crew.
We'll divide into watches and bear away to the southward."
"Long live Sir Henry Morgan, King of the Buccaneers!" cried a voice out
of the darkness, and amid a tremendous roar of cheers the vessel swept
away, leaving the lights of Port Royal twinkling faintly in the distance
far behind them.
BOOK II
THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS
CHAPTER V
HOW THE "MARY ROSE" OVERHAULED THREE SPANISH TREASURE SHIPS
Ten days after her departure from Port Royal the _Mary Rose_ was
tumbling southward before a gentle breeze through the blue and languid
seas. Much had happened in the interval. In the first place, Morgan had
organized and drilled the ship's crew relentlessly. With the aid of the
five principal adventurers, whom he had constituted his lieutenants, he
had brought the motley crowd which he had shipped into a state of
comparative efficiency and of entire subjection to his iron will. Years
of quasi-respectability, of financial position, of autocratic power as
Vice-Governor had modified the ideas of the old buccaneer, and the
co-operative principle which had been the mainspring of action as well
as tie which produced unity among the brethren-of-the-coast had ceased
to be regarded, so far as he was concerned. He took care, however, to be
upon fairly amicable terms with the officers in command and the
veterans, though he treated the rest of the riff-raff like the dogs they
were. They murmured and raged but did not revolt, although it was quite
possible that if he pushed them too far, and they found a leader, they
might make trouble.
In accordance with Hornigold's advice, after deliberation between Morgan
and the leaders, the _Mary Rose_ had first run up to La Vaca Island,
south of Hispaniola, and the number of original marauders had been
increased by fifty volunteers, all those, indeed, who could be reached,
from the small pirates who made that delectable spot their rendezvous.
In addition to those, the crew had also been reënforced largely from
those of the unpaid and discontented seamen and soldiers of the frigate
who had happened to be under hatches the night of the capture. Presented
with the choice of instant death or adherence to the band, most of them
had accepted the latter alternative, although, to their great credit be
it said, not until one or two of the loyal veterans, who had hotly
refused to have anything to do with their ruffianly captors, had been
forced to walk the plank as an example to the rest should they prove
recalcitrant. Partly through terror, partly through discontent, partly
on account of promises of the great reward awaiting them, speciously
urged by Morgan himself, for he could talk as well as he could fight,
and, most of all, because even at that date it was considered a
meritorious act to attack a Spaniard or a Papist under any circumstances
or conditions, especially by persons as ignorant as the class in
question, some seventy cast in their lot with the rest.
Among the two hundred and twenty members of the heterogeneous crew so
constituted, were to be found natives of almost every race under the
sun, even including one or two Spanish renegados, and it would be safe
to say that the lowest and meanest representatives of the several races
were assembled on that very ship. The officers and men who had been
recruited from Isla La Vaca, as well as the older original members of
the crew of the _Mary Rose_, together with a select few of the
remainder, were men of approved courage. The officers, indeed, bore
reputations for hardihood and daring not to be surpassed. Most of the
rest, however, were arrant cowards. As a body the band could not
compare, except in leadership, with the former bands of buccaneers who
had made themselves and their names a terror to Latin civilization in
the New World.
Morgan himself, however, almost made up for all deficiencies. Age had
not quenched his ardor, diminished his courage, or deprived him of that
magnetic quality which had made him an unquestioned leader of men. His
eye was as keen, his hand as steady, his soul as reckless, and his
skill as high as when he had led the greatest buccaneer fleet that had
ever assembled, on the famous Panama expedition. Everybody on the ship
hated him except young Teach and the faithful Black Dog; the old
buccaneers because he had betrayed them, the soldiers and sailors of the
crew because he had captured their ship and forced them to become his
allies, the mean and lowly body of rascals because he kept them
ruthlessly under hand. But they all feared him as much as they hated him
and they admired him as much as they feared him.
So far as he was concerned discipline was absolute. He still seemed to
fancy himself the Vice-Governor and the representative of that King
against whom he had taken up arms. He demanded to be treated
accordingly. No admiral of the fleet was ever served more promptly and
respectfully than he. Even his nearest associates were treated with a
certain haughtiness, which they bitterly resented and which they would
have called in question had the situation been other than it was. Truth
to tell, influenced by Hornigold, they had embarked upon a mad
enterprise, and they needed Morgan to bring it to a successful
conclusion. Without him the slender coherence which already existed
would fail, and anarchy would be the state upon the ship. There would
be nothing left to them but to scatter if they could make an unheeded
landing at some convenient place, or be captured, if they could not,
with a certainty of being hung forthwith. So long as they remained
together, it was certain that Morgan would lead them on some successful
enterprise and they might get some reward for their risks and crimes. In
his safety lay their safety.
The buccaneer was entirely aware of this, and therefore counted freely
upon the backing of the veterans among the officers and crew. He would
take care of the rest.
The ship, however, was a floating colony of suspicion, treachery, and
hatred. Morgan himself never appeared without being loaded with weapons,
not for bravado but for use should occasion rise, and his back was
always protected by the silent and gigantic maroon, whom the sailors,
catching the title from those who had known him of old, referred to with
malignant hatred as "Black Dog." That was a name, indeed, which the
taciturn half-breed rather rejoiced in than resented. Morgan had been
able to awaken love in no hearts except those of young Teach, whose
feeling was admiration rather than affection, and this half-breed
maroon. Whether it was from his black African mother or from his fierce
red Carib father he inherited the quality of devotion was not apparent.
Devoted he had been and devoted he remained.
Close association in the narrow confines of the ship with the man who
had, as he believed, wronged him, had but intensified Hornigold's
hatred. The One-Eyed found it difficult to dissemble, and took refuge in
a reticence which was foreign to his original frank and open character.
Morgan half suspected the state of affairs in his old boatswain's moiled
and evil soul, and he watched him on account of it more closely than the
others, but with no great disquiet in his heart. Truth to tell, the old
pirate was never so happy as in the midst of dangers, imminent and
threatening, which would have broken the spirit of a less resolute man.
There was one among the officers he was sure of and upon whom he could
depend in an emergency, and that was young Teach. He had flattered him
by unusual marks of kindness, and alone among the officers this fellow
did not seem to cherish the rancor and suspicion of the others. He was
too young to have experienced a betrayal as had the rest; this was his
first venture in actual piracy and he found it marvelously pleasant.
The officers, too, were all suspicious of one another. As each one
nursed his own private designs he suspected the others of doing
likewise--and with reason. But there was as yet little outward friction
among them. Raveneau, for instance, was most scrupulously polite to the
captain and his associates. Velsers was too stupid in his cups--and he
was generally in them--to do more than growl, and the Brazilian had all
the capacities of his race for subtle concealment.
Although the necessary orders for working the ship were obeyed and
Morgan personally imposed implicit obedience and respect for his
commands, no duties other than those required were performed by the men.
During the day when not at work or at drill, they drank, smoked,
gambled, and fought at pleasure, although, as the captain mercilessly
exercised them during long hours at the great guns and with small arms,
they did not have any too much leisure for play. During the night they
kept watch and watch, of course, but in it all they took no care of the
ship, and filth and dirt abounded. If they had anticipated a long cruise
things would necessarily have been different, but as they had gone far
to the southward now, and might make a landfall at any moment there was
no necessity for bothering about mere cleanliness, which, as it is
supposed to be next to godliness, was naturally far removed from this
band of cut-throats. Morgan had not communicated his ultimate purposes
to his men as yet, but as he was the only navigator on the ship he was,
perforce, allowed to have his own way.
Breakfast had been served--a meagre breakfast it was, too, for all hands
were on short allowance of everything but spirits, on account of the
unprovided state of the ship. Fortunately for their contentment, there
was plenty of rum on board. The men were congregated forward on the
forecastle or in the waist, wrangling and arguing as usual. The officers
gathered on the quarter-deck, and Morgan paced the high raised poop
alone, overlooking them, when the lookout suddenly reported three sail
in sight. The half-drunken sailor who had been sent aloft at daybreak
had kept negligent watch, for almost as soon as he had made his report
the ships were observed from the deck of the frigate.
The _Mary Rose_ had the wind on her quarter, her best point of sailing,
and she was covered with canvas from her trucks to her decks, from her
spritsail yard to her huge mizzen crossjack, a lateen sail. The wind was
light, but she was making rapid progress toward the approaching
strangers, who, with their larboard tacks aboard, were beating up toward
the English.
Attended by the maroon, Morgan, pistol in hand, went forward to the
forecastle, kicking his way clear through the sullen, black-browed mass
of sailors. He ran a short distance up the weather fore-shrouds and
took a long look at the strangers. They all flew the yellow flag of
Spain. One was a huge galleon, the other two smaller ships, though
larger in each instance than the _Mary Rose_, and all heavily armed.
One of the plate ships from Porto Bello was due in this latitude about
this time, and Morgan instantly surmised that the galleon was she, and
that the two others were Spanish frigates to give her safe convoy across
the ocean. Spain was at peace with all the world at that time, and the
two frigates would have been ample to ward off the attack of any of the
small piratical craft which had succeeded the buccaneer ships of the
Caribbean. The Spaniards had no idea that such a vulture as Morgan was
afloat; therefore, although they had sighted the _Mary Rose_ long before
she had seen them because they kept better watch, they came on
fearlessly and without hesitation. It was evident to the experienced
officers among them that the vessel was an English frigate, and as
England was a country with which there was profound peace at the time
they apprehended nothing.
The position of the approaching ships with reference to one another was
somewhat peculiar. The first and smallest frigate was perhaps half a
mile ahead of her consorts, who were sailing side by side, a cable's
length apart. Morgan at once determined to attack them. He knew that he
possessed the handiest ship, and he believed that he had discovered a
way to master the other three. The two frigates were the most dangerous
antagonists. If he could dispose of them the galleon would be at his
mercy. He did not hesitate to encounter such odds, and even in the minds
of the craven part of the crew one English ship was thought to be good
for any three Spaniards that ever floated.
The interest of the crew had been excited by the approaching strangers,
which were rapidly drawing nearer. They ceased their arguments and
strife, therefore, and crowded forward, looking alternately from the
foreign ships to their own leader, lightly poised on the sheer-poles
scanning the enemy. There were plenty of men of sufficient experience
among them to pronounce them Spanish ships immediately, and they
therefore anticipated that work lay before them that morning. Presently
Morgan sprang down upon the forecastle and faced his men.
"Lads," he said, "those are Spanish ships."
"Ay, ay, sir," came from one another as he paused a moment to let the
significance of his announcement sink in.
"And," he continued, raising his voice so that it was audible throughout
the ship, "the great one will be one of the plate ships homeward
bound--but she'll never get there--from Porto Bello!"
A perfect yell of delight drowned his further remarks. The men shrieked
and shouted and hurrahed at the joyous announcement, as if all they had
to do was to go aboard and take the ships. When the hullabaloo had
subsided, Morgan continued:
"I'm glad to see you take it so bravely, for while there is treasure
enough under her hatches to make us all rich, yet we'll not get it
without a fight, for yonder are two heavily armed frigates. We'll have
to dispose of them before we get at the galleon. But, hearts of oak, I
never saw the buccaneer who wasn't worth three or a dozen of the Dons,
and with a stout ship like this one under my feet and a band of brave
hearts like you I wouldn't hesitate to tackle the whole Spanish navy. It
means a little fighting, but think of the prize!" he cried, playing
skilfully upon the cupidity of his men. "Some of us will lose the number
of our messes, perhaps, before nightfall; but," he continued, making a
most singular and effective appeal, "there will be more to divide for
each man that is left alive. Are you with me?"
"To the death!" cried young Teach, who had come forward and mingled with
the crowd, lifting a naked cutlass as he spoke. His cry was taken up and
repeated, first by one and then another until the whole body was
yelling frantically to be given a chance to fight the Spanish ships.
"That's well," said Morgan grimly. "Master Teach, here, will command
forward on the fo'c'sl. Raveneau and Velsers shall attend to the
batteries in the waist. I appoint you, Hornigold, to look after the
movements of the ship. See that the best hands are at the wheel and have
sail trimmers ready. My Portuguese friend, you may look to the after
guns. Now to your stations. Cast loose and provide! Man the larboard
battery! See every thing is ready, but hold your fire and keep silence
under pain of death! Yon frigate over there, we'll strike first. She'll
be unprepared and unsuspecting. One good blow ought to dispose of her."
As he spoke, the men hurried to their stations. There was no lack of
skill on the frigate, and now was seen the value of Morgan's constant
drilling. The cannon of the ship were cast loose and loaded, loggerheads
and matches lighted, small arms distributed and primed, pikes were
served out, cutlasses loosened in their sheaths, and such as had armor,
still worn in greater or less degree even in that day, donned it, and
the ship was full of busy preparation.
"We've no flag flying, sir," said Hornigold as the men settled down to
their stations, grim and ready.
"Ay," said Morgan, "show the English flag. We'll make as much trouble
for his gracious majesty, King James, as possible."
In a short time the glorious colors of England, which had never waved
over so despicable a crew before, rippled out in the freshening breeze.
As they were rapidly approaching the Spanish ship now, Morgan descended
from the poop-deck to make a personal inspection of his frigate before
beginning action. He found everything to his taste, and passed along the
lines of silent men congregated around the guns with words of stern
appreciation.
The crews of the guns had been constituted with great care. The gun
captains in each instance were tried and proved seamen, men as fearless
as they were capable. The weaker and the more wretched portion of the
band had been so placed that opportunity for showing cowardice would be
greatly circumscribed, and the stern command of the captain that the
officers and petty officers should instantly shoot any man who flinched
from duty was not without effect. He did not hesitate to remind the men,
either, that they fought with halters around their necks. As even the
craven becomes dangerous when pushed to the wall, he felt they would
give a good account of themselves.
"Hornigold," said Morgan, as he stepped up on the quarter-deck again,
"I want the frigate to pass as close to windward of that Spanish ship as
you can bring her without touching. Let her not suspect our desire, but
whirl into her as we get abreast. Don't fall foul of her as you value
your life!"
"Ay, ay, sir," answered that veteran, squinting forward along the
jib-boom with his one eye as if measuring the distance, "I'll bring her
close enough for you to leap aboard and yet never touch a rope yarn on
her."
He spoke with the consciousness and pride of his skill.
"Now, lads," cried Morgan, "have everything ready, and when I give the
word pour it in on yonder ship. I want to settle her with one broadside.
It'll be touch and go, for we've got to dispose of her in an instant.
Stand by for the word! Now, lie down, all, behind the bulwarks and
rails. Let us make no show of force as we come up. We must not arouse
suspicion."
The two ships, the _Mary Rose_ going free, the Spanish frigate close
hauled on the port tack, were now within hailing distance. As they
approached each other the buccaneer could see that the other ship was
crowded with men. Among her people the flash of sunlight upon iron helms
denoted that she carried a company of soldiers. The Spaniards were
entirely unsuspecting. The men had not gone to their quarters, the guns
were still secured; in short, save for the military trappings of the
soldiers on board and the tompioned muzzles of her cannon, she was in
appearance as peaceful a vessel as sailed the seas.
The two ships were near enough now to make conversation possible, and
the _Mary Rose_ was hailed by a tall, richly dressed officer in
glistening breastplate and polished steel cap, standing on the
forecastle of the other ship.
"What ship is that?" he cried in broken English.
"This is the frigate _Mary Rose_." The usual answer to such a hail would
have been: "This is His Britannic Majesty's frigate _Mary Rose_," but
the Spaniards suspected nothing as Morgan continued, "carrying Sir Henry
Morgan, sometime Vice-Governor of the Island of Jamaica."
"I have the honor to wish the Vice-Governor a very good morning,"
answered the Spaniard, courteously waving his hand in salutation.
"Now, Hornigold, now!" said Morgan in a fierce whisper.
The old boatswain sprang himself to the wheel. With his powerful hands
he revolved it quickly until it was hard up. The frigate answered it
instantly. She swung away toward the Spaniard to leeward of her with a
suddenness that surprised even her steersman.
"And I salute the Vice-Governor," continued the Spanish captain, just as
the English ship swept down upon him; and then he cried in sudden alarm
and excitement:
"Have a care, señor! What mean you? You will be aboard of us! Hard up
with the helm!"
As soon as the _Mary Rose_ had begun to fall off, ay, even before her
motion had been perceptible, Hornigold had reversed the helm.
"Flow the head sheets there," he cried, shoving the wheel over spoke by
spoke with all the force of his arms. "Flatten in aft a little, here!
Steady! Very well dyce. We're right abreast now, Captain," he said.
Almost as quickly as she had fallen off the nimble frigate, beautifully
handled, came to the wind again. She was now almost in touch with the
other ship. Hornigold's seamanship and skill had been magnificent. He
had done all that was asked of him and all that he had promised.
"Ay, ay," answered Morgan in triumphant commendation. "Handsomely done.
I could leap aboard!"
The Spanish ship was filled with confusion. The captain, with his face
black with rage, stood on the forecastle shaking his fist.
"This is outrageous, sir!" he shouted. "You have nearly run us down!
What do you want?"
"I want to return your salute," answered Morgan suavely. "Up, lads!" he
cried. As the men sprang to their feet, he roared out fiercely: "Stand
by! Fire! Pour it into them!"
The _Mary Rose_ was almost in contact with the Spanish ship, when a
perfect tornado of fire burst from her side. Every gun in her broadside,
and she was a forty-eight gun frigate, was discharged point-blank at the
astonished enemy. Not waiting to reload the guns, the crew seized the
small arms ready charged to hand, and as they slowly swept by poured a
withering fire upon the Spaniard's crowded decks. Out of the flame and
smoke the _Mary Rose_ burst upon the astounded eyes of the officers and
men of the two remaining ships. The first frigate was a wreck on the
water. Some of the pirate guns had been depressed, great holes had been
opened by the shot, the masts had been carried away, and the devoted
ship was sinking, her decks covered with dead and dying.
"We wish you the compliments of the morning, señor," roared Morgan,
facing aft toward the battered and ruined frigate. "How like you our
salute?"
But the captain of the Spanish vessel lay dead upon his bloody deck, and
if any answered the jeering taunt it was drowned by the laughter and
cheering of the English crew. They had eliminated the first ship from
the game. They had diminished their enemies by a third, and full of
confidence they swept down upon the other two.
CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH IS RELATED THE STRANGE EXPEDIENT OF THE CAPTAIN AND HOW THEY
TOOK THE GREAT GALLEON
Although they could not comprehend the reason for the vicious attack
upon their consort by a ship of a supposedly friendly power, it was
evident to the Spaniards in the two remaining ships that the English
frigate was approaching them with the most sinister and malevolent
purpose. One glance at the sinking remains of their ruined and battered
consort established that fact in the most obtuse mind. Consequently the
exultant men on the _Mary Rose_ could hear the shrill notes of the
trumpeters on the two other ships calling their men to arms.
[Illustration]
With a confidence born of success, however, Morgan resolutely bore down
upon the enemy. Even the dastards in his crew had been excited by the
ease and success of the first treacherous blow and plucked up courage,
believing that their captain's invincible skill, address, and seamanship
would carry them safely through the next encounter.
The Spanish had little warning after all, for the breeze was rapidly
freshening, and in what seemed an incredibly short time the English
frigate was close at hand. Though they worked with a desperate energy
they had not entirely completed those preparations required by the shock
of battle. As usual, Morgan was determined to lose no time. If he could
have thrown his vessel upon them out of the fire and smoke of the first
broadside he would have gained the victory with scarcely less difficulty
than he had seized the first advantage, but that was not to be, and it
was with considerable anxiety that he surveyed the crowded decks of the
two remaining ships.
He had no fear of the armament of either one, but if those Spanish
soldiers ever got a footing upon his own deck it was probable they could
not be dislodged without a tremendous sacrifice of life; and as he gazed
over his motley crew he even questioned their ability to contend
successfully with such a mass of veterans. He had hoped that the
remaining frigate would detach herself from the galleon, in which event
the superior handiness and mobility of his own ship, to say nothing of
his probable advantage in the way in which his batteries would be
fought, would enable him to dispose of her without too much difficulty.
Then he could with ease place the huge and unwieldy galleon at his
mercy. But the two Spanish ships stuck close together, too close indeed,
Morgan thought, for their own safety. They were both on the wind with
their larboard tacks aboard, the frigate slightly ahead of and to
windward of the galleon, on the side, that is, whence the _Mary Rose_
was approaching. So far as he could divine it, the Spanish plan, if they
had formulated any in their hurry, appeared to be for the frigate to
engage the _Mary Rose_, and while she had the latter ship under her
battery, the galleon would tack across the English vessel's bows, or
stern as might be, rake her, get her between the two ships, run her
aboard, and thus effect her ruin. The plan was simple, practicable, and
promised easy success, provided the Englishman did what was expected of
him.
Morgan was not to be caught napping that way. As he rushed down upon
them there came into his head one of the most daring ideas that has ever
flashed across a seaman's brain. Hastily summoning Braziliano he bade
him take a dozen of his men, descend to the after magazine, procure two
or three barrels of powder from the gunner, and stow them in the cabin
under the poop-deck. He charged him to do it as quietly as possible and
take only men for the purpose upon whom he could depend. While this was
being done young Teach was also summoned from the forecastle, his place
being taken by old Velsers, whose division in the battery was placed
under the command of Raveneau. There was a whispered colloquy between
the chieftain and his young subordinate, after which the latter nodded
his head, ran below, and concealed himself in one of the staterooms
under the quarter-deck. In a little space the Portuguese reappeared with
his men and announced that they had completed their task; whereupon they
were directed to return to their stations.
Meanwhile the crew had been recharging the battery and reloading the
small arms. Morgan addressed to them a few words of hearty approval of
their previous actions and predicted an easy victory over the two ships.
The Spanish captain naturally supposed--and indeed the courses upon
which the three ships were sailing if persisted in would have brought
about the result--that the _Mary Rose_ would pass along his larboard
side, and the two vessels would engage in the formal manner of the
period, yard-arm to yard-arm, until the galleon could get into action
and so settle it in the purposed way. He intended, of course, if it
could be brought about, to throw the masses of soldiers he was
transporting home upon the English decks, and carry the frigate by
boarding.
Again Morgan put Hornigold in charge of the manoeuvering of the ship,
and again that old worthy chose to handle the spokes himself. There was
a brief conversation between them, and then the English captain ran
forward on the forecastle. The ships were very near now. In a moment or
two they would pass each other in parallel courses, though in opposite
direction, and their broadsides would bear; but when the _Mary Rose_ was
about a cable's length from the Spanish frigate something happened.
The astonished Don heard a sharp command ring out from the approaching
English ship, after which she made a wide sweep and came driving
straight at him at a furious speed. The English captain intended to run
him down! Here was to be no passage along his broadside. The other was
upon him! The cutwater of the onrushing ship loomed up before him
tremendously. Instantly all was confusion on the Spanish ship! The
steersman lost his head, and without orders put his helm up sharply;
some one cut the sheet of the after-sail on the huge lateen yard, and
the frigate went whirling around on her heel like a top, in a violent
and fatal, as well as vain, effort to get out of the road.
It was a most foolish manoeuvre, for close at hand on the lee side of
her the galleon came lumbering along. Her captain, too, had seen the
peril, and had elected to meet it by tacking under his consort's stern.
But he was too near, and the other ship fell off and was swept to
leeward too rapidly. His own ship, cumbersome and unwieldy, as they
always were, was slow in answering the helm. The frigate and galleon
came together with a terrific crash. The shock carried away the
foretopmast of the frigate, which fell across the head yards of the
galleon. The two ships were instantly locked together. They swung
drifting and helpless in the tossing waters.
Morgan had counted upon this very catastrophe. A twist of the helm, a
touch of the braces, and the prow of the _Mary Rose_ swung to windward.
As her batteries bore she hurled their messengers of death into the
crowded masses on the Spanish ships. Although dismayed by the collision,
the gunners on the frigate made a spirited reply with a discharge which
at such close range did much execution.
Unfortunately for her, the _Mary Rose_ had rushed so close to the two
entangled ships that it was impossible for her to escape hitting them.
The English captain would have given anything if he could have gone
free of the mass, for he could have passed under the stern of the two
helpless ships, raked them, and probably would have had them at his
mercy; but his dash at them had been an earnest one, and in order to
carry out his plan successfully he had been forced to throw his ship
right upon them. Therefore, though the helm was shifted and the braces
hauled in an effort to get clear, and though the ship under Morgan's
conning and Hornigold's steering was handled as few ships have ever been
handled, and though it was one of the speediest and most weatherly of
vessels, they could not entirely swing her clear. The stern of the
frigate crashed against the stern of the nearest Spanish ship drifting
frantically to leeward.
The Spanish captain, mortified and humiliated beyond expression by the
mishap, instantly realized that this contact presented them with a
possibility of retrieving themselves. Before the ships could be
separated, grappling irons were thrown, and in a second the three were
locked in a close embrace. Morgan had anticipated this situation also,
although he had hoped to avoid it, and had prepared for it. As the two
ships became fast the high poop and rail of the Spaniard were black with
iron-capped men. They swarmed over on the lower poop and quarter-deck of
the _Mary Rose_ in a dense mass. Fortunately, the small arms on both
sides had been discharged a moment before and there had been no time to
reload. The remainder of the engagement to all intents and purposes
would be fought with the cold steel.
Morgan had gained an advantage in throwing the two ships into collision,
but he appeared to have lost it again because he had been unable to
clear the wrecks himself. The advantage was now with the Spaniards,
whose force outnumbered his own two or three to one. Surprising as it
was to the old buccaneers and the bolder spirits among his crew, whose
blood was up sufficiently to enable them to long for the onset, Morgan
had run to the waist of the ship when he saw the inevitable collision
and had called all hands from the poop and quarter. The _Mary Rose_ was
provided with an elevated quarter-deck and above that a high poop.
Massing his men in the gangways just forward of the mainmast and on the
forecastle itself, with the hardiest spirits in the front line and
Morgan himself in advance of all sword in hand, the two parties
contemplated each other for a little space before joining in the onset.
The poop and quarter-deck were crowded so thick with Spanish soldiers
and sailors that room could scarcely be found for the increasing
procession, for, anxious to be in at the death, the men of the galleon
clinging to the frigate ran across and joined their comrades. Here were
trained and veteran soldiers in overwhelming numbers, with the advantage
of position in that they fought from above down, to oppose which Morgan
had his motley crew behind him.
"Yield, you dastardly villain!" shouted the captain of the Spanish
frigate, who was in the fore of his men.
"Shall I have good quarter?" cried Morgan.
A low growl ran through the ranks of the buccaneers at this question.
Yet the rapscallions among the crew back of him instantly took up the
cry.
"Quarter! Quarter! We surrender! We strike! For heaven's sake----"
"Silence!" roared Morgan--an order which was enforced by the officers
and veterans by fierce blows with pistol butts, hilts of swords, and
even naked fists. "I would hear the answer of the Spanish captain."
"We give no quarter to pirates and murderers," the other shouted.
"That's what I thought," said Morgan triumphantly, and as he spoke he
drew from his pocket a silver whistle like a boatswain's call. He blew
it shrilly before the wondering men.
At that instant Teach, followed by the few men who had remained below in
the powder division, came running up to Morgan from the hatchway
between the two forces.
"Is't done?" cried the captain.
"Ay, sir. In another----"
"Forward, gentlemen!" shouted the Spanish captain, dropping from the
quarter-deck to the main-deck. "God and St. Jago! Have at them!"
Before he had taken two steps the terrific roar of a deafening explosion
came to the startled buccaneers out of the blast of flame and smoke, in
the midst of which could be heard shrieks and groans of the most
terrible anguish. Teach had connected the powder with the fuse, and when
he had heard the sound of Morgan's whistle, the agreed signal, he had
ignited it and blown up the stern of the frigate.
The Spaniards were hurled in every direction. So powerful was the
concussion that the front ranks of the buccaneers were also thrown down
by it. Morgan happened to fall by the side of the Spanish captain, and
the latter, though badly wounded, with determined and heroic valor
raised himself on his arm and strove to kill the buccaneer. But the
faithful Carib, who had reserved one charged pistol by his master's
command for such an emergency, shot him dead.
Morgan struggled to his feet and looked at the scene. Some of his men
did not rise with the others, for they had been killed by the falling
splinters and bits of iron. The whole stern of the _Mary Rose_ was gone.
There wasn't a Spaniard left before them. A few figures shrieking vainly
for help, clutching at floating pieces of timber, might be seen
struggling in the sea. The Spanish frigate had a great hole in the port
side of her after-works. She was on fire. The three ships were rocking
as if in a hurricane.
Panic filled the minds of the greater part of the buccaneers at this
tremendous catastrophe. Had Morgan to save himself ruined his own ship?
They were appalled by the terrific expedient of their captain. Wild
cries and imprecations burst forth.
"The ship is sinking!"
"We are lost!"
"Silence!" shouted Morgan, again and again. "The ship is sinking, but
our ship is there. Let those who love life follow me."
He sprang at the burning rail of the Spanish frigate. Black Dog was at
his heels, Ben Hornigold followed hard upon, Teach was on the other
side. From the waist Raveneau and the Brazilian strove to inspire the
men. Old Velsers from the forecastle drove them forward as quickly as he
could. Presently they recovered their courage in some measure, for the
fighting force of the enemy had disappeared. They had lost a ship, but
there were two other ships before them. They swarmed over the rail with
cheers and cries. There was little or no resistance. The men of the
frigate were stunned into helplessness by the explosion, although the
captain of the galleon rallied a few men and fought until they were all
cut down, and the two ships were taken by storm.
They had scarcely gained the deck of the galleon before the remains of
the _Mary Rose_ sank beneath the sea, the wounded upon the decks vainly
crying for succor.
By this time the weather side of the remaining Spanish ship was a mass
of flame and there was imminent danger that the fire would be
communicated to the galleon. Giving his men time for nothing, Morgan set
to work furiously to extricate himself. Axes and hatchets were plied and
all the skill and seamanship of the conquerors brought into play.
Finally they succeeded in getting clear and working away from the
burning frigate. Morgan at once put the galleon before the wind, and
when he had drawn away a short distance, hove to the ship to take
account of the damage before determining his future course.
Far back on the ocean and low in the water drifted the sinking remains
of the first Spanish frigate. Near at hand was the hulk of the second
ship, now a blazing furnace. The first was filled with living men, many
of them desperately wounded. No attention was paid to them by the
buccaneers. They cried for mercy unheeded. Anyway their suspense would
soon be over. Indeed, the first ship sank and the second blew up with a
fearful explosion a short time after they got away. A brief inspection
showed that the galleon had suffered little or no damage that could not
be repaired easily at sea. Taking account of his men, Morgan found that
about twenty were missing. Taking no care for them nor for the two ships
he had fought so splendidly, pirate though he was, he clapped sail on
the galleon and bore away to the southward.
CHAPTER VII
WHEREIN BARTHOLOMEW SAWKINS MUTINIED AGAINST HIS CAPTAIN AND WHAT BEFEL
HIM ON THAT ACCOUNT
[Illustration]
The _Almirante Recalde_, for such was the name of the galleon, was
easily and speedily repaired by the skilled seamen of the _Mary Rose_
under such leadership and direction as the experience of Morgan and the
officers afforded. By the beginning of the first dog-watch even a
critical inspection would scarcely have shown that she had been in
action. With the wise forethought of a seaman, Morgan had subordinated
every other duty to the task of making the vessel fit for any danger of
the sea, and he had deferred any careful examination of her cargo until
everything had been put shipshape again; although by his hurried
questioning of the surviving officers he had learned that the
_Almirante Recalde_ was indeed loaded with treasure of Peru, which had
been received by her _via_ the Isthmus of Panama for transportation to
Spain. On board her were several priests returning to Spain headed by
one Fra Antonio de Las Casas, together with a band of nuns under the
direction of an aged abbess, Sister Maria Christina.
In the indiscriminate fury of the assault one or two of the priests had
been killed, but so soon as the ship had been fully taken possession of
the lives of the surviving clerics and the lives of the good sisters had
been spared by Morgan's express command. These unfortunate women had
been forced into the great cabin, where they were guarded by men in whom
confidence could be placed. The priests were allowed to minister to
their dying compatriots so long as they kept out of the way of the
sailors. No feeling of pity or compassion induced Morgan to withhold the
women from his crew. He was a man of prudent foresight and he preserved
them for a purpose, a purpose in which the priests were included.
In the hold of the ship nearly one hundred and fifty wretched prisoners
were discovered. They were the crew of the buccaneer ship _Daring_,
which had been commanded by a famous adventurer named Ringrose, who had
been captured by a Spanish squadron after a desperate defense off the
port of Callao, Peru. They were being transported to Spain, where they
had expected summary punishment for their iniquities. No attention
whatever had been paid to their protests that they were Englishmen, and
indeed the statement was hardly true for at least half of them belonged
to other nations. In the long passage from Callao to the Isthmus and
thence through the Caribbean they had been kept rigorously under
hatches. Close confinement for many days and enforced subsistence upon a
scanty and inadequate diet had caused many to die and impaired the
health of the survivors. When the hatch covers were opened, the chains
unshackled and the miserable wretches brought on deck, their condition
moved even some of the buccaneers to pity. The galleon was generously
provided for her long cruise across the ocean, and the released
prisoners, by Morgan's orders, were liberally treated. No work was
required of them; they were allowed to wander about the decks at
pleasure, refreshed by the open air, the first good meal they had
enjoyed in several months, and by a generous allowance of spirits. As
soon as they learned the object of the cruise, without exception they
indicated their desire to place themselves under the command of Morgan.
Ringrose, their captain, had been killed, and they were without a
leader, which was fortunate in that it avoided the complications of
divided command. Fortunate, that is, for Ringrose, for Morgan would have
brooked no rival on such an expedition.
As soon as it could be done, a more careful inspection and calculation
satisfied the buccaneer of the immense value of his prize. The lading of
the galleon, consisting principally of silver bullion, was probably
worth not far from a million Spanish dollars--pieces of eight! This
divided among the one hundred and eighty survivors of the original crew
meant affluence for even the meanest cabin boy. It was wealth such as
they had not even dreamed of. It was a prize the value of which had
scarcely ever been paralleled.
They were assembled forward of the quarter-deck when the announcement
was made. When they understood the news the men became drunk with joy.
It would seem as if they had been suddenly stricken mad. Some of them
stared in paralyzed silence, others broke into frantic cheers and yells,
some reeled and shuddered like drunken men. The one person who preserved
his imperturbable calmness was Morgan himself. The gratitude of these
men toward him was overwhelming. Even those who had good cause to hate
him forgot for the time being their animosity--all except Hornigold,
whose hatred was beyond all price. Under his leadership they had
achieved such a triumph as had scarcely ever befallen them in the
palmiest days of their career, and with little or no loss they had been
put in possession of a prodigious treasure. They crowded about him
presently with enthusiastic cheers of affection and extravagant vows of
loving service. All, that is, except Hornigold, whose sense of injury,
whose thirst for vengeance, was so deep that all the treasure of Potosi
itself would not have abated one jot or one tittle of it.
The general joy, however, was not shared by the rescued buccaneers.
Although they had but a few hours before despaired of life in the
loathsome depths of the vile hold, and they had been properly grateful
for the sudden and unexpected release which had given them their liberty
and saved them from the gibbet, yet it was not in any human man,
especially a buccaneer, to view with equanimity the distribution--or the
proposed distribution--of so vast a treasure and feel that he could not
share in it. The fresh air and the food and drink had already done much
for those hardy ruffians. They were beginning to regain, if not all
their strength, at least some of their courage and assurance. They
congregated in little groups here and there among Morgan's original men
and stared with lowering brows and flushed faces at the frantic revel in
which they could not participate. Not even the cask of rum which Morgan
ordered broached to celebrate the capture, and of which all hands
partook with indiscriminate voracity, could bring joy to their hearts.
After matters had quieted down somewhat--and during this time the
galleon had been mainly left to navigate herself--Morgan deemed it a
suitable occasion to announce his ultimate designs to the men.
"Gentlemen, shipmates, and bold hearts all," he cried, waving his hand
for silence, "we have captured the richest prize probably that floats on
the ocean. There are pieces of eight and silver bullion enough beneath
the hatches, as I have told you, to make us rich for life, to say
nothing of the gold, jewels, spices, and whatnot, besides----"
He was interrupted by another yell of appreciation.
"But, men," he continued, "I hardly know what to do with it."
"Give it to us," roared a voice, which was greeted with uproarious
laughter, "we'll make away with it."
Morgan marked down with his eye the man who had spoken and went on.
"The ports of His Majesty, the King of England, will be closed to us so
soon as our capture of the _Mary Rose_ is noted. England is at peace
with the world. There is not a French or Spanish port that would give us
a haven. If we appeared anywhere in European waters with this galleon
we would be taken and hanged. Now, what's to be done?"
"Run the ship ashore on the New England coast," cried the man who had
spoken before. "Divide the treasure. Burn the ship and scatter. Let
every man look to his own share and his own neck."
"A plan, a plan!"
"Ay, that'll be the way of it!"
"Sawkins is right!"
"To the New England shore! Ben Hornigold will pilot the ship!" burst in
confused clamor from the crew to whom the plan appealed.
"By heaven, no!" shouted Morgan. "That's well enough for you, not for
me. I'm a marked man. You can disappear. I should be taken, and
Hornigold and Raveneau and the rest. It won't do. We must stay by the
ship."
"And what then?"
"Keep to the original plan. We'll sail this ship down to the Spanish
Main and capture a town, divide our treasure, make our way overland to
the Pacific, where we'll find another ship, and then away to the South
Seas! Great as is our booty, there is still more to be had there for the
taking. We'll be free to go where we please with the whole South
American coast at hand. There are islands, tropic islands, there, where
it's always summer. They are ours for the choosing. We can establish
ourselves there. We'll found a community, with every man a law for
himself. We'll----"
But the recital of this Utopian dream was rudely interrupted.
"Nay, Master," cried Sawkins, who had done most of the talking from
among the crew, "we go no farther."
He was confident that he had the backing of the men, and in that
confidence grew bold with reckless temerity. Flushed by the victory of
the morning, the rum he had imbibed, intoxicated by the thought of the
treasure which was to be shared, the man went on impudently:
"No, Sir Harry Morgan, we've decided to follow our latest plan. We'll
work this ship up to the New England coast and wreck her there. There
are plenty of spots where she can be cast away safely and none to know
it. We'll obey you there and no further. We've got enough treasure under
hatches to satisfy any reasonable man. We're not afeared o' the King if
you are."
"You fool!" thundered Morgan. "You will be hanged as soon as your part
in the adventure is known."
"And who is to make it known, pray? As you said, we are poor ignorant
men. It's nothing to us if you are marked, and you, and you," he
continued, stepping forward and pointing successively at Morgan and the
little band of officers who surrounded him. "A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush, we'd have you understand, and we're content with what
we've got. We don't take no stock in them islands of yours. We can get
all the women we want, and of our own kind without crossing the Isthmus.
We don't want no further cruisin'. There's no need for us to land on the
Spanish Main. We've made up our minds to 'bout ship and bear away to the
northward. Am I right, mates?"
"Ay, ay, right you are!" roared the men surging aft.
"You mutinous hound!" yelled Morgan, leaning forward in a perfect fury
of rage, and his passion was something appalling to look upon.
Hornigold clutched at the helm, which had been deserted by the seamen
detailed to it during the course of the hot debate. The old man cast one
long, anxious glance to windward where a black squall was apparently
brewing. But he said nothing. The argument was between Morgan and his
crew, there was no need for him to interfere. Teach, Raveneau, Velsers,
and the officers drew their pistols and bared their swords, but most of
the crew were also armed, and if it came to a trial of strength the
cabin gang was so overwhelmingly outnumbered that it would have been
futile to inaugurate a contest.
Morgan, however, was frantic with rage. To be braved by a member of his
crew, to have his plans balked by any man, and to be openly insulted in
this manner! He did not hesitate a second. He rushed at Master
Bartholomew Sawkins, and, brave man as that sailor was, he fairly
quailed before the terrific incarnation of passionate fury his captain
presented. The rest of the crew gave back before the furious onset of
Sir Henry.
"You dog!" he screamed, and before the other realized his intention he
struck him a fearful blow in the face with his naked fist. Always a man
of unusual strength, his rage had bestowed upon him a Herculean force.
He seized the dazed man by the throat and waist belt ere he fell to the
deck from the force of the blow, and lifting him up literally pitched
him overboard. Before the crew had recovered from their astonishment and
terror at this bold action, the buccaneer officers closed behind their
captain, each covering the front ranks of the men with a pistol. At the
same instant the other men, Ringrose's crew, came shoving through the
crowd, snatching such arms as they could in the passage, although most
of them had to be satisfied with belaying pins.
"We're with you, Captain Morgan," cried one of their number. "We've had
no treasure, and it seems we're not to have a share in this either.
We've been in the South Seas," continued the speaker, a man named
L'Ollonois, noted for his cruelty, rapacity, and success, "and the
captain speaks truly. There are all that can delight brave men and a
race of cowards to defend them. What's this treasure? It is great, but
there are other things we want--wine and women!"
The man who had been thrown overboard had shrieked for help as he fell.
The splash he had made as he struck the water had been followed by
another. A Spanish priest standing by the rail had seized a grating and
thrown it to the man. Morgan took in the situation in a glance.
"Who threw that grating?" he cried.
"I, señor," composedly answered the priest, who understood English.
Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand and shot the
man dead.
"I allow no one," he shouted, "to interfere between me and the
discipline of my men! You speak well, L'Ollonois. And for you, hounds!"
he roared, clubbing the smoking pistol and stepping toward the huddled,
frightened men, "get back to your duties unless you wish instant death!
Scuttle me, if I don't blow up the galleon unless you immediately obey!
Bear a hand there! If you hesitate--Fire on them!" he cried to his
officers, but the men in the front did not linger. They broke away from
his presence so vehemently that they fell over one another in the
gangways.
[Illustration: Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand
and shot the man dead.]
"Don't fire!" they cried in terror. "We'll go back to duty."
Morgan was completely master of the situation.
"I am to be obeyed," he cried, "implicitly, without question, without
hesitation!"
"Ay, ay!"
"We will, we will!"
"That's well. Heave that carrion overboard," kicking the body of the
priest. "Now we'll go back and pick up Sawkins," he continued. "Ready
about, station for stays!"
"Look you, Captain Morgan," cried Hornigold, pointing to leeward. "The
squall! 'Twill be soon on us. We'd best reduce sail and run for it."
"Nay," said Morgan, "I'll allow not even a storm to interfere with my
plans. Flow the head sheets there! Hard down with the helm! Aft, here
some of you, and man the quarter boat. I said I'd pick him up, and
picked up he shall be, in spite of hell!"
The ship, like all Spanish ships, was unhandy and a poor sailor. Morgan,
however, got all out of her that mortal man could get. With nice
seamanship he threw her up into the wind, hove her to, and dropped a
boat overboard. Teach had volunteered for the perilous command of her
and the best men on the ship were at the oars. Sawkins had managed to
catch the grating and was clinging feebly when the boat swept down upon
him. They dragged him aboard and then turned to the ship. The sinister
squall was rushing down upon them from the black horizon with terrific
velocity. The men bent their backs and strained at the oars as never
before. It did not seem possible that they could beat the wind. The men
on the ship beseeched Morgan to fill away and abandon their comrades.
"No!" he cried. "I sent them there and I'll wait for them if I sink the
ship!"
Urged by young Teach to exertion superhuman, the boat actually shot
under the quarter of the galleon before the squall broke. The tackles
were hooked on and she was run up to the davits with all her crew
aboard.
"Up with the helm!" cried Morgan the instant the boat was alongside.
"Swing the mainyard and get the canvas off her. Aloft, topmen, settle
away the halliards! Clew down! Lively, now!"
And as the ship slowly paid off and gathered away the white squall broke
upon them. The sea was a-smother with mist and rain. The wind whipped
through the shrouds and rigging, but everything held. Taking a great
bone in her teeth the old _Almirante Recalde_ heeled far over to leeward
and ripped through the water to the southward at such a pace as she had
never made before. On the quarter-deck a drenched, shivering, and
sobbing figure knelt at Morgan's feet and kissed his hand.
"Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain to the repentant man.
"'Fore God, I will, sir," answered Sawkins.
"That's well," said the old buccaneer. "Take him forward, men, and let
him have all the rum he wants to take off the chill of his wetting."
"You stood by me that time, Sir Henry," cried young Teach, who had been
told of Morgan's refusal to fill away, "and, by heaven, I'll stand by
you in your need!"
"Good. I'll remember that," answered Morgan, glad to have made at least
one friend among all he commanded.
"What's our course now, captain?" asked Hornigold as soon as the
incident was over.
"Sou'west by west-half-west," answered Morgan, who had taken an
observation that noon, glancing in the binnacle as he spoke.
"And that will fetch us where?" asked the old man, who was charged with
the duty of the practical sailing of the ship.
"To La Guayra and Venezuela."
"Oho!" said the old boatswain, "St. Jago de Leon, Caracas, t'other side
of the mountains will be our prize?"
"Ay," answered Morgan. "'Tis a rich place and has been unpillaged for a
hundred years."
He turned on his heel and walked away. He vouchsafed no further
information and there was no way for Master Ben Hornigold to learn that
the object that drew Morgan to La Guayra and St. Jago was not plunder
but the Pearl of Caracas.
CHAPTER VIII
HOW THEY STROVE TO CLUB-HAUL THE GALLEON AND FAILED TO SAVE HER ON THE
COAST OF CARACAS
Two days later they made a landfall off the terrific coast of Caracas,
where the tree-clad mountains soar into the clouds abruptly from the
level of the sea, where the surf beats without intermission even in the
most peaceful weather upon the narrow strip of white sand which
separates the blue waters of the Caribbean from the massive cliffs that
tower above them.
In the intervening time the South Sea buccaneers had picked up
wonderfully. These men, allured by the hope of further plunder under a
captain who had been so signally successful in the past and in the
present, constituted a most formidable auxiliary to Morgan's original
crew. Indeed, with the exception of the old hands they were the best of
the lot. L'Ollonois had been admitted among the officers on a suitable
footing, and there was little or no friction among the crews. They were
getting hammered into shape, too, under Morgan's hard drilling, and it
was a vastly more dangerous body of men than the drunken gang who had
sailed away from Jamaica. Though not the equal of the former
buccaneering bands who had performed in their nefarious careers unheard
of prodigies of valor and courage, they were still not to be despised.
Had it been known on the Spanish Main that such a body was afloat there
would have been a thrill of terror throughout the South American
continent, for there were many who could remember with the vividness of
eye-witnesses and participants the career of crime and horror which the
old buccaneers had inaugurated.
Like a politic captain, Morgan had done his best to get the men whom he
had subdued by his intrepid courage and consummate address into good
humor. Rum and spirits were served liberally, work was light, in fact
none except the necessary seaman's duties were required of the men,
although an hour or two every day was employed in hard drill with
swords, small arms, and great guns. In martial exercises the veterans
were perfect, and they assiduously endeavored to impart their knowledge
to the rest.
It was Morgan's plan to run boldly into La Guayra under the Spanish
flag. No one could possibly take the _Almirante Recalde_ for anything
but a Spanish ship. There was no reason for suspecting the presence of
an enemy, for Spain had none in these seas. If there were other ships in
the roadstead, for the harbor of La Guayra was really nothing more than
an open road, the buccaneer could easily dispose of them in their
unprepared condition. Indeed, Morgan rather hoped that there might be
others, for, after he captured them, he would have a greater force of
guns to train upon the forts of the town, which he expected to take
without much difficulty, and then be governed in his manoeuvres toward
Caracas by circumstances as they arose.
Two days after the capture of the galleon, then, with the wind fresh
from the northeast, on a gray, threatening, stormy morning, she was
running to the westward along the shore. A few hours at their present
speed would bring them opposite La Guayra, whose location at the foot of
the mighty La Silla of Caracas was even then discernible. Morgan could
see that there were two or three other vessels opposite the town
straining at their anchors in the heavy sea. Every preparation for
action had been made in good time and the guns had been loaded. The sea
lashings had been cast off, although the gun-tackles were carefully
secured, for the wind was blowing fresher and the sea running heavier
every hour.
The men were armed to the teeth. There happened to be a goodly supply
of arms on the Spanish ship in addition to those the buccaneers had
brought with them, which were all distributed. Many a steel cap destined
for some proud Spanish hidalgo's head now covered the cranium of some
rude ruffian whom the former would have despised as beneath his feet.
Everything was propitious for their enterprise but the weather. The
veterans who were familiar with local conditions in the Caribbean
studied the northeastern skies with gloomy dissatisfaction. The wind was
blowing dead inshore, and as the struck bells denoted the passing hours,
with each half-hourly period it grew appreciably stronger. If it
continued to blow, or if, as it was almost certain, the strength of the
wind increased, it would be impossible without jeopardizing the ship to
come to anchor in the exposed roadstead. They would have to run for it.
Nay, more, they would have to beat out to sea against it, for the
coast-line beyond La Guayra turned rapidly to the northward.
Morgan was a bold and skilful mariner, and he held his course parallel
to the land much longer than was prudent. He was loath, indeed, to
abandon even temporarily a design upon which he had determined, and as
he had rapidly run down his southing in this brief cruise his
determination had been quickened by the thought of his growing nearness
to the Pearl of Caracas, until for the moment love--or what he called
love--had almost made him forget the treasure in the ship beneath his
feet. For the Pearl of Caracas was a woman.
Mercedes de Lara, daughter of the Viceroy of Venezuela, on her way home
from Spain where she had been at school, to join her father, the Count
Alvaro de Lara in the Vice-regal Palace at St. Jago de Leon, sometimes
called the City of Caracas, in the fair valley on the farther side of
those towering tree-clad mountains--the Cordilleras of the shore--had
touched at Jamaica. There she had been received with due honor, as
became the daughter of so prominent a personage, by the Vice-Governor
and his wretched wife. Morgan's heart had been inflamed by the dark,
passionate beauty of the Spanish maiden. It was only by a severe
restraint enjoined upon himself by his position that he had refrained
from abusing the hospitality he extended, by seizing her in the old
buccaneer fashion. The impression she had made upon him had been
lasting, and when he found himself alone, an outlaw, all his dreams of
the future centered about his woman.
He would carry out the plans which he had outlined to his men, but the
Pearl of Caracas, for so Donna Mercedes was called, must accompany him
to the South Seas to be the Island Queen of that Buccaneer Empire of
which he was to be the founder. That Donna Mercedes might object to this
proposition; that she might love another man, might even be married by
this time, counted for nothing in Morgan's plans. He had taken what he
wanted by dint of his iron will and the strength of his right arm in the
past and he should continue the process in the future. If the hand of
man could not turn him, certainly the appeal of woman would avail
nothing.
Consequently he was most reluctant that morning, for his passion had
increased with each o'er-run league of sea, to bear away from La Guayra,
which was the port of entry for Caracas; but even his ardent spirit was
at last convinced of the necessity. It was blowing a gale now and they
were so near the shore, although some distance to the eastward of the
town, that they could see the surf breaking with tremendous force upon
the strip of sand. The officers and older men had observed the course of
the ship with growing concern, but no one had ventured to remonstrate
with Morgan until old Ben Hornigold as a privileged character finally
summoned his courage and approached him.
"Mark yon shore, Captain Morgan," he said, and when he made up his mind
he spoke boldly. "The wind freshens. We're frightfully near. Should it
come on to blow we could not save the ship. You know how unseamanly
these Spanish hulks are."
"Right you are, Hornigold," answered Morgan, yet frowning heavily.
"Curse this wind! We must claw off, I suppose."
"Ay, and at once," cried Hornigold. "See, the wind shifts already! It
blows straight from the north now."
"Hands by the braces there!" shouted Morgan, following with apprehension
the outstretched finger of the old boatswain. "Ease down the helm. Brace
up. Lively, lads!"
In a few moments the great ship, her yards braced sharply up, was headed
out to seaward on the starboard tack. The wind was now blowing a whole
gale and the masts of the ship were bending like whips.
"We'll have to get sail off her, I'm thinking, Hornigold," said Morgan.
"Ay, ay, sir, and quick!"
"Aloft!" yelled Morgan, "and take in the to'gallant s'l's. Close reef
the tops'l's and double reef the courses then."
The shaking shrouds were soon covered with masses of men, and as the
ship was exceedingly well handled the canvas was promptly snugged down
by the eager crew. Hornigold with young Teach to assist him went to the
helm. Morgan gave his personal attention to the manoeuvering of the
ship, and the other officers stationed themselves where they could best
promote and direct the efforts of the seamen.
Thus during the long morning they endeavored to claw off the lee shore.
Morgan luffed the ship through the heavy squalls which rose to the
violence of a hurricane, with consummate skill. Absolutely fearless, a
master of his profession, he did all with that ship that mortal man
could have done, yet their situation became more and more precarious.
They had long since passed La Guayra. They had had a fleeting glimpse of
the shipping in the harbor driving helplessly on shore as they dashed by
under the gray clouds which had overspread the sea. That town was now
hidden from them by a bend of the coast, and they found themselves in a
curious bight of land, extending far into the ocean in front of them.
The mountains here did not so nearly approach the water-line, and from
the look of the place there appeared to be a shoal projecting some
distance into the ocean from the point ahead. Some of the buccaneers who
knew these waters confirmed the indications by asserting the existence
of the shoal.
In spite of all that Morgan could do it was quite evident that they
could not weather the shoal on their present tack. There was not
sea-room to wear and bear up on the other tack. The vessel, in fact,
like all ships in those days and especially Spanish galleons, had a
tendency to go to leeward like a barrel, and only Morgan's resourceful
seamanship had saved them from the fatal embraces of the shore long
since. The canvas she was carrying was more than she could legitimately
bear in such a hurricane. If there had been sea-room Morgan would have
stripped her to bare poles long since, but under the circumstances it
was necessary for him to retain full control and direction of the ship;
so, although he reduced sail to the lowest point, he still spread a
little canvas.
The men were filled with apprehension, not only for their lives but,
such was their covetousness, for the treasure they had captured, for
they stood about a hundred chances to one of losing the ship. Each
squall that swept down upon them was harder than the one before. Each
time the vessel almost went over on her beam ends, for Morgan would not
luff until the last moment, since each time that he did so and lost way
temporarily he found himself driven bodily nearer the land. The men
would have mutinied had it not been patent to the most stupid mind that
their only salvation lay in Morgan. Never had that despicable villain
appeared to better advantage than when he stood on the weather quarter
overlooking the ship, his long gray hair blown out in the wind,
fighting against a foe whose strength was not to be measured by the mind
of man, for his life and his ship.
Hornigold and Teach, grasping the wheel assisted by two of the ablest
seamen, were steering the ship with exquisite precision. Sweat poured
from their brows at the violence of the labor required to control the
massive helm. The men lay to windward on the deck, or grouped in
clusters around the masts, or hung to the life lines which had been
passed in every direction. At Morgan's side stood Velsers and Raveneau,
prime seamen both.
"What think ye, gentlemen?" asked Morgan, at last pointing to the point
looming fearfully close ahead of them. "Can we weather it?"
"Never!" answered de Lussan, shaking his head. "Well, it has been a
short cruise and a merry one. Pity to lose our freightage and lives."
"And you, Velsers?"
"No," said the German, "it can't be done. Why did we ever come to this
cursed coast?"
"Avast that!" cried Morgan, thinking quickly. "Gentlemen, we'll
club-haul the ship."
"The water's too deep, my captain, to give holding ground to the
anchor," urged Raveneau shrugging his shoulders.
"It shoals yonder, I think," answered Morgan. "We'll hold on until the
last minute and then try."
"'Tis wasted labor," growled Velsers.
"And certain death to hold on," added the Frenchman.
"Have you anything else to propose, sirs?" asked Morgan sharply. "We
can't tack ship against this wind and sea. There's no room to wear.
What's to do?"
The men made no answer.
"Forward there!" cried the old buccaneer, and it was astonishing the
force and power with which he made himself heard in spite of the roar of
the wind and the smash of the sea. "Get the lee anchor off the bows
there! L'Ollonois?"
"Ay, ay."
"Run a hawser from the anchor in aft here on the quarter. We'll
club-haul the ship. See the cable clear for running."
"Very good, sir," cried the Frenchman, summoning the hardiest hands and
the most skilful to carry out his commander's orders.
"Ready it is, sir," answered Hornigold, tightening his grasp on the
spokes and nodding his head to his superior.
"To the braces, lads! Obey orders sharply. It's our last chance."
The water was roaring and smashing against the shore not a cable's
length away. Usually in those latitudes it deepened tremendously a short
distance from the low water mark, and there was a grave question whether
or not the anchor, with the scope they could give it, would reach
bottom. At any rate it must be tried, and tried now. Morgan had held on
as long as he dared. Another minute and they would strike.
"Down helm!" he shouted. "Flow the head sheets! Round in on the fore
braces, there! Show that canvas aft!"
The lateen sail on the crossjack yard had been furled, and Morgan, to
force her head around, directed the after guard to spring into the
mizzen-rigging with a bit of tarpaulin and by exposing it and their
bodies to the wind to act as a sail in assisting her to head away from
the shore.
"Helm-a-lee! Hard-a-lee!" cried Hornigold, who with his men was grasping
the spokes like a giant.
Slowly the old galleon swung up into the wind, the waves beating upon
her bows with a noise like crashes of thunder. A moment she hung. She
could go no farther.
"She's in irons! Swing that yard!" roared Morgan. "Cut and veer away
forward!"
There was a splash as the anchor dropped overboard.
"Hands on that hawser!" he shouted. "Everybody walk away with it!"
The whole crew apparently piled on to the anchor hawser in the hope of
pulling the ship's stern around so that the wind would take her on the
other bow. She was still hanging in the wind and driving straight on
shore.
"Haul away, for God's sake!" cried Morgan; but the hawser came in board
through their hands with a readiness and ease that showed the anchor had
not taken the ground. The drag of the cable to the anchor, however, and
the still unspent impetus of the first swing, turned the galleon's stern
slightly to windward. Her head began slowly to fall off.
"She stays! She makes it!" cried the captain. "Meet her with the helm!
Let go and haul! Cut away the hawser!"
It had been a tremendous feat of seamanship and bade fair to be
successful. It was yet touch and go, however, and the breakers were
perilously near. They were writhing around her forefoot now, yet the
wind was at last coming in over the other bow.
"We're safe!" cried Morgan. "Flatten in forward! Haul aft the sheets and
braces!"
At that instant there was a terrific crash heard above the roar of the
tempest. The foretopmast of the _Almirante Recalde_ carried sharply off
at the hounds. Relieved of the pressure, she shot up into the wind once
more and drove straight into the seething seas. They were lost with
their treasure, their hopes, and their crimes! At the mercy of wind and
wave!
The men were as quick to see the danger as was Morgan. They came rushing
aft baring their weapons, pouring curses and imprecations upon him. He
stood with folded arms, a scornful smile on his old face, looking upon
them, Carib watching and ready by his side. In another second, with a
concussion which threw them all to the deck, the doomed ship struck
heavily upon the sands.
BOOK III
WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS
CHAPTER IX
DISCLOSES THE HOPELESS PASSION BETWEEN DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND
CAPTAIN DOMINIQUE ALVARADO, THE COMMANDANTE OF LA GUAYRA
Captain Dominique Alvarado stood alone on the plaza of the ancient
castle which for over a century had been the home of the governors of La
Guayra. He was gazing listlessly down over the parapet which bordered
the bare sheer precipice towering above the seaport town. There was
nothing in his eyes, but a great deal in his heavy heart.
[Illustration]
Captain Alvarado, who filled the honorable station of commandante of the
port, was a soldier of proven courage. The _protégé_ and favorite
officer of his serene highness the Count Alvaro de Lara, Grandee of
Spain and Viceroy of Venezuela, he had been honored with great
responsibilities, which he had discharged to the satisfaction of his
master. From a military point of view the office of Governor of La
Guayra, which he then filled, was of sufficient importance to entitle
him to high position and much consideration in the vice-regal court of
Caracas.
Of unknown parentage, Alvarado had been received into the family of the
viceroy when an infant. He had been carefully reared, almost as he had
been de Lara's son, and had been given abundant opportunity to
distinguish himself. In the course of his short life he had managed to
amass a modest fortune by honorable means. He was young and handsome; he
had been instructed, for the viceroy had early shown partiality for him,
in the best schools in the New World. His education had been ripened and
polished by a sojourn of several years in Europe, not only at the court
of Madrid but also at that of Versailles, where the Count de Lara had
been sent as ambassador to the Grand Monarch during a period in which,
for the sake of supervising the education of his only daughter, he had
temporarily absented himself from his beloved Venezuela. That an unknown
man should have been given such opportunities, should have been treated
with so much consideration, was sufficient commentary on the
unprecedented kindness of heart of the old Hidalgo who represented the
failing power of His Most Catholic Majesty of Spain, Carlos II., the
Bewitched, in the new world. Whatever his origin, therefore, he had been
brought up as a Spanish soldier and gentleman, and the old count was
openly proud of him.
With assured station, ample means, increasing reputation; with youth,
health, and personal good looks, the young Governor should have been a
happy man. But it was easy to see from the heavy frown upon his sunny
face--for he was that rare thing in Spain, a blue-eyed blond who at
first sight might have been mistaken for an Englishman--that his soul
was filled with melancholy. And well it might be, for Alvarado was the
victim of a hopeless passion for Mercedes de Lara, the Viceroy's
daughter, known from one end of the Caribbean to the other, from her
beauty and her father's station, as the Pearl of Caracas.
Nor was his present sadness due to unrequited passion, for he was
confident that the adoration of his heart was met with an adequate
response from its object. Indeed, it was no secret to him that Mercedes
loved him with a devotion which matched his own. It was not that; but
her father had announced his intention to betroth the girl to Don Felipe
de Tobar y Bobadilla, a young gentleman of ancient lineage and vast
wealth, who had been born in America and was the reputed head in the
Western Hemisphere of the famous family whose name he bore.
The consent of Donna Mercedes to the betrothal had not been asked. That
was a detail which was not considered necessary by parents in the year
of grace 1685, and especially by Spanish parents. That she should object
to the engagement, or refuse to carry out her father's plan never
crossed the Viceroy's imagination. That she might love another, was an
idea to which he never gave a thought. It was the business of a
well-brought-up Spanish maiden to be a passive instrument in the
carrying out of her father's views, especially in things matrimonial, in
which, indeed, love found little room for entrance. But Donna Mercedes
loved Captain Alvarado and she cared nothing for Don Felipe. Not that
Don Felipe was disagreeable to her, or to any one. He was a Spanish
gentleman in every sense of the word, handsome, distinguished, proud,
and gallant--but she did not, could not, love him. To complicate matters
still further de Tobar was Captain Alvarado's cherished companion and
most intimate friend.
The progress of the love affair between Alvarado and Donna Mercedes had
been subjective rather than objective. They had enjoyed some unusual
opportunities for meeting on account of the station the former filled in
the Viceroy's household and the place he held in his heart, yet the
opportunities for extended freedom of intercourse between young men and
women of the gentler class in those days, and especially among Spaniards
of high rank, were extremely limited. The old count took care to see
that his daughter was carefully watched and shielded; not because he
suspected her of anything, for he did not, but because it was a habit of
his people and his ancestry. The busy life that he led, the many
employments which were thrust upon him, his military duties, had kept
the days of the young soldier very full, and under the most favorable
circumstances he would have had little time for love making. Fortunately
much time is not required to develop a love affair, especially in New
Spain and near to the equator.
But though they had enjoyed brief opportunity for personal intercourse,
the very impossibilities of free communication, the difficulties of
meeting, had but added fuel and fire to their affection. Love had flamed
into these two hearts with all the intensity of their tropic blood and
tropic land. Alvarado's passion could feed for days and grow large upon
the remembrance of the fragrance of her hand when he kissed it last in
formal salutation. Mercedes' soul could enfold itself in the
recollection of the too ardent pressure of his lips, the burning yet
respectful glance he had shot at her, by others unperceived, when he
said farewell. The memory of each sigh the tropic breeze had wafted to
her ears as he walked in attendance upon her at some formal function of
the court was as much to her as the flower which she had artfully
dropped at his feet and which had withered over his heart ever since,
was to him.
The difficulties in the way of the exchange of those sweet nothings that
lovers love to dwell upon and the impossibility of any hoped for end to
their love making intensified their passion. Little or nothing had been
spoken between them, but each knew the other loved. For the first moment
the knowledge of that glorious fact had sufficed them--but afterwards
they wanted more. Having tasted, they would fain quaff deeply. But they
could see no way by which to manage the realization of their dreams.
The situation was complicated in every possible way for Alvarado. Had he
been a man of family like his friend, de Tobar, he would have gone
boldly to the Viceroy and asked for the hand of his daughter, in which
case he thought he would have met with no refusal; but, being ignorant
of his birth, having not even a legal right to the name he bore, he knew
that the proud old Hidalgo would rather see his daughter dead than
wedded to him. Of all the ancient splendors of the Spanish people there
was left them but one thing of which they could be proud--their ancient
name. De Lara, who belonged to one of the noblest and most distinguished
families of the Iberian Peninsula, would never consent to degrade his
line by allying his only daughter to a nobody, however worthy in other
respects the suitor might prove to be.
Again, had Mercedes' father been any other than the life-long patron and
friend to whom he literally owed everything that he possessed, such was
the impetuosity of Alvarado's disposition that, at every hazard, he
would have taken the girl by stealth or force from her father's
protection, made her his wife, and sought an asylum in England or
France, or wherever he could. So desperate was his state of mind, so
overwhelming his love that he would have shrunk from nothing to win her.
Yet just because the Viceroy had been a father to him, just because he
had loved him, had been unexampled in his kindness and consideration to
him, just because he reposed such absolutely unlimited confidence in
him, the young man felt bound in honor by fetters that he could not
break.
And there was his friendship for de Tobar. There were many young
gallants about the vice-regal court who, jealous of Alvarado's favor and
envious of his merits, had not scrupled in the face of his unknown
origin to sneer, to mock, or to slight--so far as it was safe to do
either of these things to so brave and able a soldier. Amid these gilded
youths de Tobar with noble magnanimity and affection had proved himself
Alvarado's staunchest friend. A romantic attachment had sprung up
between the two young men, and the first confidant of de Tobar's love
affairs had been Alvarado himself. To betray his friend was almost as
bad as to betray his patron. It was not to be thought of.
Yet how could he, a man in whose blood--though it may have been ignoble
for aught he knew--ran all the passions of his race with the fervor and
fire of the best, a man who loved, as he did, the ground upon which the
Señorita de Lara walked, stand by tamely and see her given to another,
no matter who he might be? He would have given the fortune which he had
amassed by honorable toil, the fame he had acquired by brilliant
exploits, the power he enjoyed through the position he had achieved, the
weight which he bore in the councils of New Spain, every prospect that
life held dear to him to solve the dilemma and win the woman he loved
for his wife.
He passed hours in weary isolation on the plaza of the great castle
overlooking the stretched-out town upon the narrow strand with the
ceaseless waves beating ever upon the shore from the heavenly turquoise
blue of the Caribbean wavering far into the distant horizon before him.
He spent days and nights, thinking, dreaming, agonizing, while he
wrestled vainly with the problem. Sometimes he strove to call to his
mind those stern resolutions of duty which he had laid before himself at
the beginning of his career, and to which he had steadfastly adhered in
the pursuit of his fortunes; and he swore that he would be true to his
ideals, that the trust reposed in him by the Viceroy should not be
betrayed, that the friendship in which he was held by de Tobar should
never be broken, that he would tear out of his heart the image of the
woman he loved. And then, again, he knew that so long as that heart kept
up its beating she would be there, and to rob him of her image meant to
take away his life. If there had been a war, if some opportunity had
been vouchsafed him to pour out, in battle against the enemy, some of
the ardor that consumed him, the situation would have been ameliorated;
but the times were those of profound peace. There was nothing to occupy
his mind except the routine duties of the garrison.
Spain, under the last poor, crazed, bewitched, degenerate descendant of
the once formidable Hapsburgs, had reached the lowest depths of ignominy
and decay. Alone, almost, under her flag Venezuela was well
governed--from the Spanish standpoint, that is; from the native
American point of view the rule of even the gentlest of Spaniards had
made a hell on earth of the fairest countries of the new continent. Of
all the cities and garrisons which were under the sway of the Viceroy de
Lara, La Guayra was the best appointed and cared for. But it did not
require a great deal of the time or attention from so skilled a
commander as Alvarado to keep things in proper shape. Time, therefore,
hung heavily on his hands. There were few women of rank in the town,
which was simply the port of entry for St. Jago de Leon across the
mountains which rose in tree-clad slopes diversified by bold precipices
for ten thousand feet back of the palace, and from the commoner sort of
women the young captain held himself proudly aloof, while his love
safeguarded him from the allurement of the evil and the shameless who
flaunted their iniquity in every seaport on the Caribbean.
On the other side of the mountain range after a descent of several
thousand feet to a beautiful verdant valley whose altitude tempered the
tropic heat of the low latitude into a salubrious and delightful
climate, lay the palace of the Viceroy and the city which surrounded it,
St. Jago, or Santiago de Leon, commonly called the City of Caracas.
Many a day had Alvarado turned backward from the white-walled,
red-roofed town spread out at his feet, baking under the palms,
seething in the fierce heat, as if striving to pierce with his gaze the
great cordilleras, on the farther side of which in the cool white palace
beneath the gigantic ceibas the queen of his heart made her home. He
pictured her at all hours of the day; he dwelt upon her image, going
over again in his mind each detail of her face and figure. The perfume
of her hand was still fragrant upon his lips; the sound of her voice,
the soft musical voice of Andalusia, still vibrated in his ear; her
burning glance pierced him even in his dreams like a sword.
He was mad, mad with love for her, crazed with hopeless passion. There
seemed to be no way out of his misery but for him to pass his own sword
through his heart, or to throw himself from the precipice, or to plunge
into the hot, cruel blue of the enveloping Caribbean--the color of the
sea changed in his eye with his temper, like a woman's mood. Yet he was
young, he hoped in spite of himself. He prayed--for he was not old
enough to have lost faith--and he planned. Besides, he was too brave a
soldier to kill himself, and she was not yet married. She was not
formally betrothed, even; although it was well known that her father
looked favorably upon de Tobar's suit, no formal announcement had been
made of it as yet. So in spite of his judgment he dreamed--the thoughts
of youth and love are long, long thoughts, indeed.
That morning the young captain, engrossed in his emotions, was not aware
of the approach of a messenger, until the clank of the man's sword upon
the stone flags of the plaza caused him to lift his head. He was a
soldier, an officer of the bodyguard of the Viceroy, and he bore in his
hand a letter sealed with the de Lara coat of arms. The messenger
saluted and handed the packet to the captain.
"Yesterday evening, His Excellency, the Viceroy, charged me to deliver
this letter to you to-day."
"Fadrique," called Alvarado, to a servitor, "a flagon of wine for the
cavalier. By your leave, sir," he continued with formal politeness,
opening the packet and reading the message:
"TO THE CAPTAIN ALVARADO, COMMANDANTE OF LA GUAYRA.
GREETING:
As one faithful to the fortunes of our family we would crave your
honorable presence at our palace in Santiago to-morrow evening. In
view of your service and devotion, we have done you the honor to
appoint you as one of the witnesses to the formal betrothal of our
daughter, Donna Mercedes, to your friend, Don Felipe de Tobar. After
that, as we have received appeals for help from the Orinoco country,
we propose to lead His Most Catholic Majesty's Imperial troops
thither in person to overawe the natives; and, reposing full trust
in your fidelity and honor, we deign to commit the Donna Mercedes to
your safe keeping in our city of La Guayra, until we return.
Therefore make your preparations accordingly.
Given under our hand and seal,
DE LARA, _Viceroy_."
It had come! The old man, as a last token of his respect, had nominated
him as a witness to the contract which robbed him forever of hope and
happiness. The young man went white before the keen eye of the
messenger, who, in common with other officers of the Viceroy's court,
suspected what was, indeed, concealed from no one save the father and
lover. The world swam before his vision. The blue sea seemed to rise up
and meet the green hills until he could not distinguish the one from the
other. His heart almost stopped its beating, yet summoning his
resolution he recovered himself by an effort that left him trembling,
the sweat beading his forehead.
"Are you in a state for a return journey at once, señor?" he asked of
the young officer.
"At your service, captain."
"That's well. Say to His Excellency, the Viceroy, that I thank him for
the honor he does me. I shall wait upon him to-morrow and obey his
commands."
CHAPTER X
HOW DONNA MERCEDES TEMPTED HER LOVER AND HOW HE STROVE VALIANTLY TO
RESIST HER APPEALS
Alvarado was alone in the cabinet of the Viceroy, to which his rank and
the favor in which His Excellency held him gave him access at all times.
[Illustration]
He had ridden all day over the rough road that winds over the mountains
from La Guayra to Caracas. The storm which had rushed down the
mountain-side all afternoon matched the tumult in his soul, and the
sheets of rain blown upon him by the fierce wind had not cooled the
fever of his agitation. The unusual tempest was one of the most terrific
that had swept over the coast in years. He had marked as he rode a huge
ship far to seaward, staggering along under shortened canvas and
laboring tremendously in the heavy seas. But his thoughts were so
centered upon the situation in which he found himself that he had not
particularly noticed the vessel, although passing ships were infrequent
sights off the port of La Guayra. Pale, haggard, and distraught from his
mental struggle he had crossed the pass at the summit of the mountain
and descended into the fertile valley now adrip with rain and looking
almost cold under the gray sky, and had presented himself at the palace
of the Viceroy.
He had changed his apparel after his reception and his old sergeant had
polished his breastplate until it fairly blazed with light, for though
the occasion was one of peace he had felt that he could better sustain
his part in the military uniform in which he had won his only title to
consideration. He schooled himself to go through that part with the
resolution of a Spanish gentleman. Although there was no evidence of
gentle blood save such as was presented by his actions, he had always
cherished the hope that could the secret of his birth be revealed he
would not be found unfit for the honors that he had won and the
ambitions that he cherished. Consequently his appearance in the
brilliantly lighted hall of the palace among the gay courtiers
resplendent in magnificent attire, blazing with jewels, threw a somber
note over the proceedings.
It was as a soldier he had won fame and the consideration of the
Viceroy; in no other capacity, so far as any man knew, had he the right
to enter that assemblage of the rich and well born. It was as a soldier
he would perform that hardest of all duties which had ever been laid
upon him by his friend and patron, the Governor.
Pale, stern, composed, he stood an iron figure of repression. So severe
was the constraint that he put upon himself that he had given no sign of
his emotion, even at the near approach of Donna Mercedes, and the hand
which signed his name beneath her father's as the principal witness was
as steady as if it held merely the sword in some deadly combat. He
endured passively the affectionate greetings of the happy de Tobar, who
was intoxicated at the assurance afforded by the betrothal of the coming
realization of all his hopes. He sustained with firmness the confidence
of the Viceroy and the admissions de Lara made to him in private, of his
pleasure in the suitable and fortunate marriage which was there
arranged. He even bore without breaking one long, piteous appeal which
had been shot at him from the black eyes of the unhappy Mercedes.
To her he seemed preternaturally cold and indifferent. He was so strong,
so brave, so successful. She had counted upon some interposition from
him, but the snow-capped Andes were no colder than he appeared, their
granite sides no more rigid and unsympathetic. It was with a feeling
almost of anger and resentment at last that she had signed the betrothal
contract.
But the restraint on the man was more than he could bear. The cumulative
force of the reproach of the woman he loved, the confidence of the
Viceroy, the rapturous happiness of his best friend, was not to be
endured longer. Pleading indisposition, he early begged leave to
withdraw from the festivities which succeeded the completion of the
betrothal ceremony and the retirement of the ladies. At the suggestion
of the Viceroy, who said he desired to consult with him later in the
evening, he went into the deserted cabinet of the latter.
The palace was built in the form of a quadrangle around an open patio. A
balcony ran along the second story passing the Viceroy's cabinet, beyond
which was his bedroom and beyond that the apartments of his daughter.
The rain had ceased and the storm had spent itself. It was a calm and
beautiful night, the moon shining with tropic splendor through the open
window dispensed with the necessity of lights. There was no one in the
cabinet when he entered, and he felt at last able to give way to his
emotion; Mercedes though she was not married was now lost to him beyond
recourse. After the women withdrew from the hall with Donna Mercedes
there was no restraint put upon the young nobles, and from the other
side of the patio came the sound of uproarious revelry and feasting--his
friends and comrades with generous cheer felicitating the happy
bridegroom that was to be. Alvarado was alone, undisturbed, forgotten,
and likely to remain so. He put his head upon his hands and groaned in
anguish.
"Why should it not have been I?" he murmured. "Is he stronger, braver, a
better soldier? Does he love her more? O Mother of God! Riches? Can I
not acquire them? Fame? Have I not a large measure? Birth? Ah, that is
it! My father! my mother! If I could only know! How she looked at me!
What piteous appeal in her eyes! What reproach when I stood passive
cased in iron, with a breaking heart. O my God! My God! Mercedes!
Mercedes!"
In his anguish he called the name aloud. So absorbed and preoccupied in
his grief had he been that he was not aware of a figure softly moving
along the balcony in the shadow. He did not hear a footfall coming
through the open window that gave into the room. He did not realize that
he had an auditor to his words, a witness to his grief, until a touch
soft as a snowflake fell upon his fair head and a voice for which he
languished whispered in his ear:
"You called me; I am come."
"Señorita Mercedes!" he cried, lifting his head and gazing upon her in
startled surprise. "How came you here?" he added brusquely, catching her
hands with a fierce grasp in the intensity of his emotion as he spoke.
"Is this my greeting?" she answered, surprised in turn that he had not
instantly swept her to his heart.
She strove to draw herself away, and when he perceived her intent he
opened his hands and allowed her arms to fall by her side.
"I have been mistaken," she went on piteously, "I am not wanted."
She turned away and stood full in the silver bar of the moonlight
streaming through the casement. Her white face shone in the light
against the dark background of the huge empty room--that face with its
aureole of soft dark hair, the face of a saint, pale yet not
passionless, of the heaven heavenly, yet with just enough of earthly
feeling in her eyes to attest that she was a very woman after all.
"Go not," he cried, catching her again and drawing her back.
Gone were his resolutions, shattered was his determination, broken was
his resistance. She was here before him, at all hazards he would detain
her. They were alone together, almost for the first time in their lives.
It was night, the balmy wind blew softly, the moonlight enveloped them.
Such an opportunity would never come again. It was madness. It was
fatal. No matter. She should not go now.
"I heard you," she murmured, swaying toward him. "I heard--you seemed to
be--suffering. I do not know why--something drew me on. You
whispered--you were speaking--I--listened. I came nearer. Was your heart
breaking, too? Despise me!"
She put her face in her hands. It was a confession she made. A wave of
shame swept over her.
"Despise you? Ah, God help me, I love you!"
And this time he gathered her in his arms, and drew her back into the
deeper shadow.
"And you were so cold," she whispered. "I looked at you. I begged you
with all my soul before I signed. You did nothing, nothing! O Mother of
God, is there no help?"
"Dost love me?"
"With all my soul," she answered.
"Poor----"
"Nay----"
"Obscure----"
"Nay----"
"Lowly--perhaps ignobly born----"
"Nay, love, these are mere words to me. Rich or poor, high or low, noble
or ignoble, thou only hast my heart. It beats and throbs only for thee.
I have thought upon thee, dreamed upon thee, loved thee. I can not marry
Don Felipe. I, too, have the pride of the de Lara's. My father shall
find it. I signed that contract under duress. You would do nothing. Oh,
Alvarado, Alvarado, wilt thou stand by and let me be taken into the arms
of another? But no, I shall die before that happens."
"Donna Mercedes," cried the unhappy young man, "I love thee, I adore
thee, I worship thee with all my heart and soul! Were it not a coward's
act I would have plunged my dagger into my breast ere I witnessed that
betrothal to-night."
"Thou shouldst first have sheathed it in mine," she whispered. "But
could'st find no better use for thy weapon than that?"
"Would you have me kill Don Felipe?"
"No, no, but defend me with it. There are hidden recesses in the
mountains. Your soldiers worship you. Take me away, away into the
undiscovered countries to the southward. A continent is before you. We
will find a new Mexico, carve out a new Peru with your sword, though I
want nothing but to be with you, alone with you, my soldier, my lover,
my king!"
"But your plighted word?"
"'Tis nothing. My heart was plighted to you. That is enough. Let us go,
we may never have the chance again," she urged, clinging to him.
A fearful struggle was going on in Alvarado's breast. What she proposed
was the very thing he would have attempted were the circumstances other
than they were. But his patron, his friend, his military duty, his honor
as a soldier--the sweat beaded his forehead again. He had made up his
mind at the betrothal to give her up. He had abandoned hope; he had put
aside possibilities, for he could see none. But here she was in his
arms, a living, breathing, vital, passionate figure, her heart beating
against his own, pleading with him to take her away. Here was love with
all its witchery, with all its magic, with all its power, attacking the
defenses of his heart; and the woman whom he adored as his very life,
with all the passion in his being, was urging, imploring, begging him to
take her away. He was weakening, wavering, and the woman who watched him
realized it and added fuel to the flame.
"The love I bear your father!" he gasped.
"Should it bind where mine breaks? I am his daughter."
"And Don Felipe is my personal friend."
"And my betrothed, but I hesitate not."
"My oath as a soldier----"
"And mine as a woman."
"Gratitude--duty----"
"Oh, Alvarado, you love me not!" she cried. "These are the strongest. I
have dreamed a dream. Lend me your dagger. There shall be no awakening.
Without you I can not bear----"
As she spoke she plucked the dagger from the belt of the young soldier,
lifted the point gleaming in the moonlight and raised it to her heart.
He caught it instantly.
"No, no!" he cried. "Give back the weapon."
The poniard fell from her hand.
"Thou hast taken me, I thank thee," she murmured, thinking the battle
won as he swept her once more in his arms. This time he bent his head to
her upturned face and pressed kiss after kiss upon the trembling lips.
It was the first time, and they abandoned themselves to their transports
with all the fire of their long restrained passion.
"And is this the honor of Captain Alvarado?" cried a stern voice as the
Viceroy entered the room. "My officer in whom I trusted? Death and fury!
Donna Mercedes, what do you here?"
"The fault is mine," said Alvarado, stepping between the woman he loved
and her infuriated father. "I found Donna Mercedes in the cabinet when I
came in. She strove to fly. I detained her--by force. I poured into her
ear a tale of my guilty passion. Mine is the fault. She repulsed me. She
drove me off."
"The dagger at your feet?"
"She snatched it from me and swore to bury it in her heart unless I left
her. I alone am guilty."
He lied instantly and nobly to save the woman's honor.
"Thou villain, thou false friend!" shouted the Viceroy, whipping out his
sword.
He was beside himself with fury, but there was a characteristic touch of
magnanimity about his next action; so handsome, so splendid, so noble,
in spite of his degrading confession, did the young man look, that he
gave him a chance.
"Draw your sword, Captain Alvarado, for as I live I shall run you
through!"
Alvarado's hand went to his belt, he unclasped it and threw
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