Sea-Dogs All! Part 28

Chapter XLI.

THE TRAP.

A cheery proverb declares there is no cloud so black that it hath not a silver lining. Conversely we may say that there is no sky so blue that no cloud is gathering in it. The sky over the heads of Captain Drake and his men glowed like a firelit, flawless sapphire; yet behind, where the giant trees shut out the view of the heavens, a cloud was gathering, charged with the very mirk of death.

For days and nights before the _Golden Boar_ had come abreast of the mouth of the creek, the summit of the bluff had not been without a keen-eyed sentinel. Squatted on his haunches, or lying p.r.o.ne on the gra.s.s, a patient Indian had scanned sea and horizon for a sign of a sail. His watch was duly rewarded. He heard the shout of the lookout man; saw the ship put about for the entrance near which he lay; then he slipped into the trees behind him, and ran down the declivity and through the forest like a creature born to a life in the tree-packed solitudes. He pa.s.sed round the bay, and ran for another couple of miles along the creek. Then, in a natural clearing, he came upon a tent around which were gathered about fifty warriors of his own tribe.

At the entrance to the tent he bowed himself down to the earth, and lay there until a voice bade him arise.

"The ship of the white men, O my father!"

"Where?"

"They come into the harbourage."

"Get thy canoe." Basil came forth, and was soon speeding down to the bay. He got out on the side opposite to the cl.u.s.ter of mangroves, climbed a tree, and watched the _Golden Boar_ as it beat into the narrow entrance from the sea. The sun shone on the gilded monster that stood "rampant" under the bows and lit up the tall figure of Morgan, who stood watching the muddy waters as they ran lapping along the sides of the ship. Basil recognized all, and smiled in triumph. He went back to his tent and dispatched swift messengers along the track across the isthmus; the Spanish troops were lagging somewhere on the road, and must needs be hurried.

All that night, sleepless, noiseless Indians lay near the ship and heard every call of the watch. With the coming of the dawn they slipped farther back, but maintained a close espionage. Basil's messenger returned. The troops were bivouacked not far away. They would start with the earliest light, and might be expected within two hours of sunrising. The natives were sent down to the fringe of the bay to keep unseen watch over every movement of the Englishmen. Basil waited for the white troops. His plans were carefully made, and he hoped to capture the ship and every soul of her company.

Morgan and Jeffreys pushed their way through the trees, seeking some open glade where deer might be feeding. Each carried bow and arrows, so that the quarry might be obtained without raising any alarm that might arouse near-dwelling natives or any chance party of Spaniards.

The laughter of their comrades died away behind them little by little, and was presently lost altogether. Once or twice the undergrowth rustled, and both paused, hoping to sight some eatable prey; but they saw nothing, and wandered farther and farther on.

They had gone for nearly a mile, when suddenly an Indian stood in their path. The fellow paused for an instant, then turned and fled as though in affright. Both were about to cry out to rea.s.sure him, when they were stealthily a.s.sailed from behind. A native cloth or blanket was thrown over the head of each; brown arms closed round and pinioned their limbs. They were thrown to the ground, and a heavy blow on the head rendered them unconscious. They had no chance to cry out, and were trapped with scarcely a struggle. When they recovered their senses they were in a canoe going rapidly up-stream; their heads were still m.u.f.fled, and their limbs bound with tight thongs.

Between the trees the digging went on merrily enough. About three feet down a skull was found; then another; then various human bones. These gruesome discoveries checked the singing and laughter, and for a while the men worked in silence. But there was nothing to dull the spirits of the water-carriers, and they romped and skylarked like a party of schoolboys. Those on board ship envied their companions who were ash.o.r.e, and the relief digging party leant over the bulwarks, eager to take their turn amongst the mangroves.

Meanwhile a net of fire and steel was being drawn around the workers.

The net was set; every mesh was tested, and yet the fowler hesitated to draw it in: all the birds were not gathered in the baited area. The water-carriers were too far from the diggers, and the ship rode clear of the sh.o.r.e. The Indian allies hid, waiting with inexhaustible patience. The Spanish troops were restless and ill-controlled. They saw two small parties of Englishmen busily engaged, and without suspicion of danger. It was so easy to form two bands, surround and capture all. Barely a dozen men remained aboard the ship; surely they could seize the vessel at their leisure! The Spanish commander did not possess Basil's gift of caution. He determined to attack, and launched a mixed force against the water-carriers and seized every one. Another band dashed for the mangroves; but warning had been given. Sir John and his gentlemen whipped out their swords, and the workers seized pick-axe and shovel. Captain Drake saw the movement in the trees, shouted an alarm, and at once turned his guns on the rustling patch. A couple of terrific charges followed; trees splintered and crashed, and the Indian allies fled in terror, freeing some of the water-carriers, who plunged at once into the bay and swam to the ship. The group of mangroves was a natural fortress, and the Dons failed to get in at the first rush. The flight of the Indians threw them into a momentary disorder; and Captain Drake, instant in appreciating an opportunity, turned a gun a little wide of the cl.u.s.ter, and sent a ball smashing into the rallying place of the foe. Covered by the armed gentlemen, the workers retreated to their boat; arrows and a few musket b.a.l.l.s flew after them, but the ship's guns again spoke out, and no Don dared show himself. The boat was reached at the cost of a few wounds. At the ship's side the men received arms, and the soldiers aboard leaped down to take the place of the wounded. The boat went ash.o.r.e once more, and the whole of its company made for the spring, hoping to rescue the men there. The enemy opposed their way, but they drove them before them, and the guns from the vessel swept and cleared the surrounding patches of woodland. The spring was reached; the Dons had fled; and the marks of the short struggle were all the rescue party discovered. They followed the trail for a while, but the foe had got the start and the help of their native guides. The men reluctantly returned to the sh.o.r.e of the bay, fortunately picking up a couple of wounded sailors on their way. The undergrowth around was diligently searched, but it yielded nothing alive.

The ship's roll was called, and the losses counted. No one had seen anything of Jeffreys and Morgan since the first landing; they had gone a-hunting, and their fate could hardly be doubted. The digging party had escaped death and capture, and no man was seriously wounded. Of the water party, the two Johnsons, who had acted as leaders, were wounded and prisoners; three others were captives with them; the rest had escaped. There were no further attempts at digging that day. This was, perhaps, just as well, for the earth contained no treasure. The Dons had seized that long before.

Chapter XLII.

CAPTIVES.

The wonderful name of Drake saved the expedition from irretrievable disaster. "For England, boys!" Sir John had shouted as he laid about him in the mangrove trees. "For Drake and Devon!" shouted a Plymouth tar, and his comrades had hurrahed at his words. "Ay, remember the skipper's name!" Sir John had replied; "defeat and Drake don't go together!" These shouted words, and the promptness of the round shot from the ship, had really equal effects in scattering the foe. The Spanish commander, when he rallied his men farther back at the springs, asked Nick Johnson who his captain was.

"Drake of Plymouth!" cried Nick; "and take heed to it, ye dirty Papist.

Ye'll regret this business before sunset!"

And the soldiers were of their foeman's opinion. Their leader deemed discretion the better part of valour. He had lost some men; his allies had fled; five prisoners were in his hands. So far he could claim a victory, and he was resolved not to lose one leaf from his scanty laurels. "Drake" was an incarnation of the devil; every Don in America knew that; it was useless fighting the redoubtable sailor, for no man could defeat or kill him. The Spanish captain decided on a movement to the rear. In vain Basil stormed and raved, and vowed that the dreaded Drake was not within a thousand leagues of the isthmus. The soldiers remembered that the speaker was a renegade Englishman, and refused to believe him.

Basil left them to go on to Panama, whilst he returned to the Indian camp and the two prisoners whose clever capture he had superintended.

The Indians had gone, and Morgan and Jeffreys were left gagged and bound. The Jesuit was furious. His first impulse was to kill his captives and leave their bodies to be found by their companions, who would a.s.suredly make some search for them. But a moment's reflection made him abandon that plan. Had he desired only their death, it would have been easier for the Indians to shoot them than to capture them.

One of the two, Morgan, was an old foe; he had done much to thwart the scheme for firing the Forest of Dean, a scheme which would have brought Basil nothing less than a bishopric had it succeeded. He was one of those who had slain Father Jerome, and must expiate his many offences.

The angry man had little objection to letting out Master Timothy's life at a blow, but Morgan must have no such easy ending. So he left the two, half-stifled in their blankets, and went into the woods and along the creek, calling in the hope of attracting some stray Indians. After a while, the chief and about a dozen others straggled back.

The tent, wherein Basil had kept up state in order to overawe the simple natives, was packed away into a canoe. The prisoners were put into another, and the company paddled away towards the interior, following by water the course the Spaniards had taken by land.

The two parties met that evening at a native village, and a fierce quarrel broke out betwixt Basil and the Spanish commandant. The civilian accused the soldier of cowardice and indifference that amounted to treachery, and fiercely maintained that a little more wisdom and courage on the part of the troops would have sufficed for the capture of the whole expedition. The captain retorted that he had done his duty with due zeal and discretion, and threatened Basil with a share of the bonds that bound the limbs of his fellow Englishmen. He took Basil's two prisoners and added them to his own captures, a.s.serting that he did so in order to ensure their safe keeping. By easy stages the troops moved west by north along the rivers and over the mountains to Panama, where the Englishmen were formally imprisoned as pirates and wicked enemies of his Majesty King Philip. Basil was soon busily at work in an endeavour to get them accused of heresy rather than piracy, and so put them into the hands of the Inquisition; for the ecclesiastics punished with infinitely greater cruelties than did the King's officers.

A long and anxious council was held that afternoon aboard the _Golden Boar_. For the time, the treasure-hunt was forgotten. Seven members of the company, two of them gentlemen partners in the expedition, were in the hands of the Spaniards. What could be done for their release?

From the evidence of those of the watering-party that had escaped, it was plain that the band that had attacked them was as numerous as that which attacked the gold-seekers. The total forces, Spanish and Indian, were considerably over a thousand. Now, if the ship was to be at all adequately guarded and manned, Captain Drake could not spare more than a score of men as a land force. Obviously, this was totally inadequate if the foe stood his ground; so weak a band might be shot down one by one in the forest. Yet no man would leave the coast without making some real effort to aid his captured comrades. The brave fellows could readily put themselves in thought into the places of the unfortunate seven, and they shuddered as they contemplated their possible fate.

One man, Paignton Rob, knew Oxenham's route across the isthmus, and he volunteered at once to lead any pursuing party. Should the Johnsons escape, they would almost certainly take this route back. Pursuit was decided upon, and Captain Drake resolved to lead it himself. The whole of the gentlemen adventurers volunteered to accompany him, and Dan Pengelly and Paignton Rob completed the available force. It was small enough to be called a "forlorn hope;" it was brave enough to do desperate deeds if occasion offered.

Since the retreat of the foe no sounds had been heard from the sh.o.r.e.

This did not prove that no enemies were lurking in the thickets, for silence had prevailed until the moment of the double attack. Rob offered to go scouting, but his services as guide were too precious for him to run the risk; and Sir John Trelawny, like the valiant knight he was, went instead. A boat was rowed down into the shelter of the bluff, and he slipped ash.o.r.e. Scaling the rock, he peered about on all sides, saw nothing suspicious, and advanced into the thick woods.

There were plenty signs of the fray, but no sight of a foe. He wound round one side of the curve of the bay, and startled nothing but the birds and a few reptiles. He came down to the water, hailed the ship, and was taken aboard. The captain resolved to start up the creek at nightfall and follow its course into the river.

This was done. Signs of Basil's camp were discovered, and his bivouac searched. Morgan's helmet was found; the pursuers were on the track.

A hunt in the near woods revealed nothing of note. Re-embarking they reached an Indian village by midnight, and learned that the foe was encamped at a larger place up the stream. Here was a chance of a night a.s.sault. But neither bribes nor threats could prevail with any native to accept the position as guide. The chief finally gave directions which were either wilfully incorrect or misunderstood. The Englishmen, on coming to a parting of the waters, took the wrong course, and found themselves by daylight right in the hills and twenty miles from the place where the captives lay.

They came back and took the other channel, arriving at the halting-place about noon, to find the foe gone and themselves too weary to follow for some hours. Rob and the captain interviewed the chief, but the latter was too fearful of the Spaniards to offer any a.s.sistance. The English force in his eyes was too weak to gain any victory, and he would not be on the losing side.

The adventurers pushed forward again in the evening, abandoned their boats, and took to the hills in the hope of cutting off the Spanish retreat. They lost their bearings, and for a while were lost themselves. The pursuit became hopeless, and was reluctantly abandoned.

The party returned to the ship. Nothing further was possible. With a force ten times as great as the one he really commanded, Captain Drake might have attempted a march on Panama itself, for the spirit of the great admiral was strong in him.

Digging was resumed, and the labour was rewarded by the mocking discovery of a heap of bones. It was plain to every one that the company had been led into a cunningly prepared trap. In the heat of their anger some were for sailing back to Trinidad and sacking San Joseph. The skipper would hear of no such mad enterprise. He set sail for the open sea, his heart full of two desires. He wanted to fall in with some other English ships, and essay an attack on Panama. Failing this, he hoped for the chance of meeting plenty of King Philip's galleons. Large or small, he vowed to a.s.sail them and take a terrible requital for his own misfortunes.

His latter hope was realized. He fell in with two ships in his pa.s.sage through the Indies, and attacked and pillaged both. Although shorn of nearly half his strength by the time he reached the open Atlantic, yet he made for the Azores and captured yet a third galleon, and fell in with a fourth sailing for Panama itself. He boarded this, and gave the captain a letter for the authorities of the isthmian port. In this he declared his intention of paying the place a speedy visit with such a force that he would level the town with the ground if a hair on the head of any captive had been injured. 'Twas a proud, characteristic boast, but it was never carried into effect.

Plymouth was duly reached. The _Golden Boar_ brought some goodly treasure to port, many stories of wonderful lands, and a wealth of bad news. There was mourning in Plymouth. And Paignton Rob--weeks after--sat moist-eyed in a cottage at Newnham listening to a maiden's sobs.

Chapter XLIII.

IN PANAMA.

Panama sweltered in a blaze of summer sunshine. The place reeked with heat like a furnace. The smooth sea reflected the glare like a mirror; the white houses dazzled the eyes, and sent fiery darts of pain through them to the brain. The harbour showed no sign of life, the sentinel at the castle nodded at his post, and his excellency the governor lay stretched on a couch at an open window, whilst two slaves fanned him with palm leaves. The streets were empty even of natives. These, emulating their white masters, had crawled into the shade of wall or tree, and curled up in slumber.

The jail was a long, low building in the southern angle of the castle courtyard. Its walls were of mud baked in the tropical sun, and its roof was of palm-thatch. The windows were mere slits in the thick, hard walls, and gave little light or air. The doors were stout, and tightly barred. Of all the hot corners in the Pacific inferno, the jail corner was the hottest. The place was full; either the long spell of heat or the caprices of the sweltered governor had stirred up an unruly spirit. Several soldiers had mutinied; the natives had been troublesome and restive; a party of sailors had run amuck--doubtless affected by the torrid heat--and so the prison population was at high-water mark. The commandant had much ado to find room for the seven Englishmen. On behalf of the Inquisitors, Basil had offered to relieve him of their company, but the governor had said "No" to the proposal. The seven were confined in one room of fair size, and, except for the heat, were no more comfortless than they would have been in the average English jail. But the heat was fearful! The wretched men sat and stewed in it. Water was not too plentiful in the city, and the native water-carriers had grown lazy; thirst racked the prisoners one and all. They had been shut in for the better part of two weeks, and wondered why they had not been brought to trial. They had expected a short shrift and a speedy execution. Usually these expectations would have been realized, but the governor would not be bothered with any extra work whilst the heat spell lasted, and he had been warned that the "Holy Office" would claim the Englishmen as heretics and blasphemers. This would mean a lengthy wrangle between the military and ecclesiastical authorities, and his sun-dried excellency was not in the mood or condition to preside over heated arguments. The fellows were safe, he said, and would have time to think over their sins, political and religious. Let them alone for a while.

It was the turn of Nick Johnson and Johnnie Morgan to be at the window.

A rough bench was drawn up near the opening, and the two knelt thereon and let the hot air--cool compared with the general atmosphere of the prison--blow softly on their faces. They were not allowed to put their heads too near the blessed inlet, for that would shut out the light from their comrades. Their joint occupation of the room had been lengthy enough to give rise to a set of rules for their mutual good and guidance. The law against blocking up the window too closely was a very strict one. From the angle at which he looked out Nick could see the drowsy sentinel.

"'Twill be such a day as this that will give us our chance of freedom,"

he said. "Could we but get out now, we might parade the streets unchallenged for an hour. The Dons are in no hurry either to hang or burn us, and we cannot wait their convenience. If the Indian will only bring us the arrowhead that he promised, we will try our legs about noon tomorrow. We ought to take a block out of this wall in twenty-four hours."

Johnnie nodded; his mouth was too parched for speaking. Nick's voice was very like a raven's croak, and he licked his dry lips and relapsed into silence. Their spell at the window came to an end. They stepped down, and went to a corner. Two sailors took their places.