With Drake on the Spanish Main Part 14

"Nay; afore dark all the prisoners be thrust into the dungeons, and kept fast in ward until morning light."

"And do they set a guard over the dungeons?"

"Not as I know, sir. What would be the good? The doors be strong and clamped with iron; the guard house be just above; and we was all so worn with toil and so sick at heart that nary one of us ever had the spirit to attempt a sally. When they had us fast in the dungeons, there they might leave us, with never a fear but we would be safe bound."

"Methinks that same security would forbid them to keep a watch seawards. The sea washes the north side of the fort, you said?"

"Ay, sir, and even at high tide there is no draught for a vessel of more than twenty tons burden, so they need fear no attack thence.

True, they might keep a watch on the harbour when a vessel lies there; but 'tis years since any enemy has appeared, and with the dons 'tis out of sight, out of mind, I trow."

"Well, does not that favour us? Grant we cannot scale the walls, nor force the gate, we may still approach the fort from the sea by night, without risk of being discovered, and that is the very thing that we must do. This night is too far spent for us to make any attempt in that quarter. We must possess our souls in patience for yet another day, and truly that is not amiss, for it will give us leisure to spy once more upon the fort. Think you 'tis possible to come where we may view the north side?"

"There is but one way; to make a circuit as we lately did, and go further through the woods, and creep down at dusk to the rocks, when the work for the day is over and we are not like to be seen by the Spaniards who keep ward over the fishers."

"That is what we will do, then. And now, since we know not what the day may bring forth to try our strength, let us get what sleep we can, and so fortify ourselves."

But for many hours Dennis lay awake, thinking over the next day's doings. Up with the dawn, he set the maroons to cut from the trees a number of light tough poles, and these Copstone and Turnpenny, with seamen's skill, quickly fashioned into a rough but serviceable ladder.

It was made to taper from bottom to top in three sections, the first seven feet long, the second five feet, and the last, four. The first and second were lashed together with some spare rope brought in the canoe, but the supply gave out when this was done, and Dennis was at a loss for material to fasten the second and third sections together.

The headman of the maroons speedily made good the deficiency. Going into the forest, he soon returned with long pliable tendrils of a creeper called bejuca that grew plentifully among the undergrowth, and these, when cut into short lengths, formed lashings as strong as could be desired.

The greater part of the morning was spent in constructing and testing the ladder. After the midday meal Dennis and the sailors again made their way through the forest to their former place of espial, waited until they saw the canoes return with the pearl fishers, and then, in the late afternoon, crept down the hillside westward of the fort until they came to the rocks on the sh.o.r.e. From their new position they were able to glance along the northern wall of the fort. The tide was on the turn, and it was clear from the ma.s.ses of seaweed and the waterworn appearance of the rocks on which the wall was built that at high water the base of the escarpment would be washed by the waves, as Copstone had said. Having formed a careful mental picture of the place, Dennis gave the word for return, and they reached their camping ground just before dark, as on the previous evening.

Arrangements were at once made for their expedition. Turnpenny estimated that the distance by water from the mouth of the creek to the fort was about ten miles. It was desirable to start early if the paddlers were not to be overtired when the serious work of the night began. Dennis was in some doubt what to do with the prisoners, but after consultation with the sailors he decided to leave them behind in the charge of the cook and one of the maroons. He deplored the necessity of thus diminishing his little party, but it was clearly impossible to trust the guardianship of the prisoners to Baltizar alone. That flabby and chicken-hearted negro was desperately afraid of being left. He feared the prisoners, although they were securely pinioned; still more he feared the wild beasts of the forest.

Turnpenny "gave him a piece of his mind," as he said, and his language was none the less forcible because he eked out his scanty vocabulary of Spanish with racy expressions in his own vernacular. He called Baltizar a slack-twisted nollypate, a wambling dumbledore, an ell-and-a-half of moidered dough, mingling with his expletives an instruction to keep up the fire if he wished to scare the beasts away, and a warning that the Spaniards, if they were allowed to escape, would certainly kill him first. And to guard against the danger that the prisoners might work upon his fears and persuade him to loose their bonds, the maroon chosen to remain with him was told, in his hearing, that if he had any conversation with the two men he was instantly to be knocked on the head. Watching the negro's expression, Dennis felt pretty sure that he would prove a most zealous jailor.

The night was still young, the moon had not yet risen, when the canoe floated silently seawards down the creek. The little party of three white men and five maroons was not hilarious; every man knew that he had taken his life in his hands. But neither were they down-hearted, for seven of them had the recollection of a night adventure which had wonderfully succeeded against great odds; and though the odds this time were immeasurably in favour of the enemy, and the task was infinitely more difficult, the very magnitude of what they had set themselves to do fired them with eagerness and hope.

The sections of the ladder had been unlashed, and were safely bestowed, with the rope and the tendrils, in the sides of the canoe. In his ignorance of the coast, Dennis ordered the paddlers to put some distance out to sea before heading the canoe westward, so as to avoid any rocks or shoals that might lie in wait for the frail craft. The wind was north-east, and as there was only the faint illumination of the stars, the sail was run up during the first part of the voyage.

But when they rounded the headland that lay between the creek and the fort, Turnpenny took in the sail, lest by some unlucky chance it should be observed from the sh.o.r.e, and bade the maroons paddle slowly, for they wished to arrive at the fort when the tide was high, a little before dawn.

Slowly as they paddled, however, the fort loomed up on the sh.o.r.e a good hour before they had intended to draw in. None of the party had any means of telling the time; but Turnpenny, experienced in reading the heavens on many a silent night on the deep, guessed it pretty accurately by the horn of the moon just peering above the horizon. To delay their arrival a little, Dennis ordered the men to rest on their oars, and for an hour the canoe rocked gently on the swelling tide.

The pause would have been even longer had not Dennis perceived that the inaction bred a certain nervous restlessness in the maroons--an ill mood in which to face the coming ordeal.

At last, shortly after four in the morning, the nose of the canoe was turned towards the fort, and the vessel crept in dead silence towards the line of white foam that showed where the tide was lapping the wall.

It was still half a musket-shot distant when its progress was arrested with a suddenness that threw the paddlers heavily forward. Recovering themselves, they backed water l.u.s.tily, but without avail; the canoe was fast on a rock. Instantly three of the men slipped gently overboard to lighten the vessel, kicking their legs busily to ward off any ground sharks that might be adventuring in the neighbourhood. In a few moments the canoe slid off the rock, the men clambered back to their places, and the paddling was resumed. But it was soon discovered that the shock had torn a hole in the vessel's side; she was filling fast; and by the time she came beneath the wall of the fort she was wellnigh waterlogged. Not a man of the party ventured to speak a word; but from the glances they gave one another it was clear that they realized what the accident meant for them. Nothing but complete success could now save them, for if the attempt on the fort failed, it would certainly be impossible to escape on this leaking vessel, and they must fall an easy prey to their enemies.

One after another they quietly left the canoe, carrying the climbing apparatus, and their calivers and ammunition, which had fortunately lain on the raised stern of the vessel and had escaped a wetting. They found themselves on the rocks, in two or three feet of water.

Turnpenny and Copstone gave their weapons into the charge of two of the maroons while they carefully lashed the two longer sections of the ladder together. Meanwhile Dennis was scanning the wall above him with the object of finding a suitable spot against which to plant the ladder. In spite of Copstone's belief that the fort was not sentinelled, Dennis had taken the precaution to land a little to the west of the tower at the angle, thinking that the sentry, if one were posted there, would probably be taking shelter under the eastern parapet. But so far as he could see in the dim light the line of the wall was unbroken.

At the top, however, a battlement slightly overhung it. To Dennis, gazing up, this battlement seemed terribly far off, and his heart sank as he felt that the ladder would certainly not be long enough. But it was possible that the apparent height was deceptive; at any rate the attempt must be made. Accordingly, Turnpenny and Copstone, as he had previously arranged with them, planted the ladder beneath the wall while he mounted. The first steps were easy, but when he came near the top he was seized with a momentary dizziness and had to pause before he ventured to take another upward step. He climbed very slowly: he was now close against the wall, with nothing to cling to, and he maintained his balance only by pressing forward until he was almost flat against the smooth surface. He reached the last rung; it was impossible to ascend another inch; and the top of the wall was still, it appeared, at least twelve feet above him. Even if the third section of the ladder was added, the coping would be still utterly beyond his reach.

It was a position in which many a bold fellow might have despaired, and, for a little, Dennis did feel dismay and a touch of compunction for having brought the men below into what appeared to be a hopeless case. But it is such moments as these that prove the grit of a man's character. Dennis was no weakling; and as he stood and leant against that wall, shrouded by the night, he set his teeth and vowed that by hook or crook he would ere long be upon the other side.

He looked up and around, to see if there were any notches or seams by means of which he could scale the wall. The moon was creeping round the sky, and now threw a little more light on the scene. Letting his eye travel slowly over every foot of the surface from left to right, he suddenly caught sight of what seemed to be a hole in the wall, some distance to his right, several feet above him, and a yard or so below the parapet. It flashed upon him that this must be a gun embrasure; was it possible, he wondered, to make his way in by that? Carefully descending the ladder, he told the sailors in a whisper what he proposed; they quickly lashed on the last section, and shifted the ladder until it stood immediately below the dark patch which at this distance the embrasure appeared to be. Then Dennis mounted again.

Once more he was disappointed. At the imminent risk of falling backwards he crept up to the highest point, but even then he found he could but just touch the lower edge of the hole. He had not sufficient grip on the smooth sill of it to pull himself up: he could not raise himself high enough to peep through. He wondered whether Copstone, who stood nearly a head taller, would have better success; but remembering the man's privations he thought it scarcely possible that he would have nerve enough to mount on this frail ladder, which bent dangerously beneath his weight now that the last section was added, without becoming dizzy and toppling down. Was there any conceivable manner in which the ladder could be still further lengthened?

Down he crept again and held another whispered consultation with the two men. At first neither was able to make a suggestion. They stood looking at one another in perplexity. Then suddenly Turnpenny, forgetting himself in his excitement, uttered an exclamation in a tone which sent a shiver down Dennis's back.

"Hush, man!" said Dennis in a warning whisper. "What is it?"

"Ah, I must talk gentle," said Turnpenny. "Of a sudden I thought of muscles and sinews, and the power of a strong back. Me and the headman of the maroons--not so strong as me, to be sure, but yet with mighty shoulders of his own--me and him betwixt us can raise the ladder aloft, and hold it firm while you mount, and then without doubt you'll be high enough to peep through the port-hole and see all that may be seen."

"Art sure you can do it, Amos?" asked Dennis, eagerly.

"Why, sir, look at this!" he returned, bending his arm until the muscle showed like a globe of iron.

Without more ado, Turnpenny and the maroon hoisted the ladder, and, one on either side of it, supported it with their shoulders. Then Dennis climbed on to Copstone's back, thence to the ladder, and began the ascent. The ladder was more tremulous than ever, and Dennis felt a flutter at the heart as he came nearer and nearer to the top. But the stalwarts below did not yield an inch, and Dennis crawled up and up until at length his head came to the level of the embrasure, and with one more step he found himself able to rest his arms in it. To his joy the embrasure was empty: the gun had evidently been withdrawn; and taking this as a good omen--surely it indicated great security on the part of the garrison!--he hoisted himself up and wriggled into the aperture. Then, breathless, with a hurrying pulse, he crouched to consider his next move.

CHAPTER XIII

The Taking of Fort Aguila

During the morning, while the ladder was being made, Dennis had talked over with the sailors the plan of action he proposed to adopt should they succeed in entering the fort undetected. The first thing was to silence the sentry, if sentry there was. It was quite clear, from the fact of having been undisturbed hitherto, that no careful look-out was kept; but Dennis did not forget Copstone's suggestion that a sentry might be napping behind the parapet, and it must be his first business to a.s.sure himself on this point before giving the signal for his companions to make the ascent.

He crouched motionless in the embrasure, listening. It had been pierced for only a short gun--a minion or falconet perhaps; and doubtless within three feet of him was a stone walk extending for the whole length of the wall. All was still; there was not a sound to show that, within the enclosure, a hundred human beings were crowded, masters and slaves. But looking through the embrasure Dennis saw a few lights twinkling in the centre of the fort, and he guessed that some at least of the enemy were awake. However great their security, it had seemed incredible to him that the place should be left wholly unguarded, even if only to provide against turbulence on the part of the slaves.

After a few moments Dennis ventured to crawl towards the inner end of the embrasure, where he might get a view of the whole enclosure. The thin light of the moon fell on the brightly painted walls of the commandant's house in the centre; there was no light in the windows; no doubt the senor capitan was fast asleep. But a beam of light came from a building somewhat to the right; this was presumably the officers'

quarters. The huts along the western wall, in which the slaves slept, were all in darkness. On the farther side of the enclosure, in the round tower beneath which the prisoners were confined, another light shone forth; somebody was awake there. But not a sound stirred the heavy moist air of the tropical night. If there were sentries upon the walls, they were certainly not pacing up and down.

Waiting another minute or two, Dennis ventured to peep round the corner of the embrasure. He could scan the whole length of the walk from tower to tower; no sentry was in sight, but he saw the gun below him a little to his right. Taking courage from the silence, he slipped out of the hole, and groped his way on bare feet toward the tower at the north-east angle. Every now and again he paused to listen, and at last, when he came within a few yards of the tower, he heard a sound of deep regular breathing hard by. Evidently some one was asleep. He stole along by the parapet in the deep shadow cast by the moon, until he saw, huddled in the corner between the tower and the wall, the form of a man. He halted to consider. Should he go forward and pounce on the sentry, risking the sound of a struggle if he attempted to gag him, or a cry if he struck at him with his sword and failed to kill him outright? It went against the grain to slay a sleeping man, and the sentry was apparently so fast asleep that it seemed possible for the rest of the party to climb up without disturbing him.

But there might be a sentry at the other end. Leaving the man in peace, Dennis stole back again, went on hands and knees where the gun necessitated his coming for a moment into the moonlight, then rose and groped his way along beneath the parapet as before. There was no sentinel, asleep or awake, in this direction. With more confidence now in the chances of a safe ascent he returned once more to the embrasure, and, taking from his pocket a thin piece of creeper, he paid this out through the aperture. He soon felt a slight tug from below. He waited until he felt a second tug, then gently pulled the creeper towards him.

To the end of it a stout line was attached--a part of his salvage from the wreck of the _Maid Marian_. This he quickly secured to the heavy gun, and having strained on the rope to convince himself that the fastening would hold, he gave the signal by another tug to his comrades below.

Then he crawled into the embrasure, and, leaning out, saw Amos swarming with a seaman's nimbleness up the rope. Giving him a hand when he came within reach, Dennis helped to haul him into the embrasure.

"What about the calivers?" he whispered, for the sailor had come up unarmed, lest a clank of steel against the wall should attract attention.

"We've tied 'em up in our shirts, sir. Haul on the rope and we'll have 'em up in a trice."

The bundle was quickly raised and brought into the embrasure without a sound.

"There's a sentry asleep by the tower yonder," whispered Dennis.

"Did 'ee not kill him?"

"No, you could not kill a sleeping man, Amos?"

"I warrant I could, though I'd liever not. But we must do summat with the knave."

"He sleeps sound."

"Maybe, but any moment he might waken, and then t'ud be all over with us. A sailor's knot and a mouthful of shirt will make all snug."

"Very well. We must go quietly."