Kitabı oku: «Antony Waymouth: or, The Gentlemen Adventurers», sayfa 9
“Ha, ha! I hate you, and you know the reason, vile Englishman!” he exclaimed, as he made a lunge at his opponent’s breast.
Edward turned the weapon aside, and that instant Dick shouted —
“Stand from under, lads! stand from under!”
For the huge gate was cracking in every part, and with a loud crash down it came, crushing one poor fellow, the rest with difficulty escaping. Don Lobo heard the shout and the crash. His eye was for an instant withdrawn from his sword’s point to look at the falling gate. That instant was fatal to him, and Edward’s weapon entering his bosom, he fell backwards to the ground, while his own sword fell useless from his grasp. As the gate gave way, the fierce and eager countenances of the English seamen were seen in the entrance, led on by Waymouth.
“St. George and merry England!” they shouted. “Down with the Portugals! Hurrah! hurrah!”
“An’ you cry ‘Down with the Portugals!’ just be sure if there are Portugals to put down,” cried Dick. “The mouse has got into the cheese before you, mates; but there is no lack of mites yet to eat. On – on, lads!”
Dick narrowly escaped a clout on the head by his facetiousness. Fortunately, daylight came in through the open gateway, and through the smoke and dust his features were recognised in time. The whole party now rushed forward. Some of the Portugals in narrow, passages made a stand, but they were forced back and driven from chamber to chamber till every part of the castle was in the hands of the English.
“The miser’s gold! the miser’s gold!” was now the cry. “Where are his strong boxes? Bring him forth, and make him tell us.”
Several hurried off to search for the late governor. Edward might have told them of his fate, but he, mindful of poor Don Joao, had gone to look for his unfortunate acquaintance, and to save him, if possible, from insult or violence.
Here and there the sound of strife might still be heard as a few of the braver spirits who had retreated, not aware how entirely the castle was in the power of the English, were defending themselves in rooms and galleries from small parties of adventurers who had separated from the main body in search of plunder.
Edward had made inquiries both of Portugals and English if they knew aught of Don Joao. At length, led by the sound of clashing steel, he found his way, with the few men he had got to follow him, into the circular chamber of a distant tower. There in a deep window recess clustered three or four priests holding crucifixes in their hands, some dark-skinned women in their picturesque costume, and some native attendants. Before them stood Don Joao, with five or six Portugal soldiers, defending themselves with their swords against the attacks of four or five English sailors, who were hewing and hacking away, not with much science, but with such furious blows that they had already cut down two or more Portugals, and were now hard pressing the old soldier. He was bleeding from more than one wound, and was evidently little able to hold out against assailants so persevering. Edward hurried forward, ordering the Englishmen to desist; but they either would not or did not hear him, and before he could interpose his own weapon, a heavy cut from a rapier brought the old man to the ground.
“For shame, men!” exclaimed Edward, saving the old soldier from another blow. “We war not with grey hairs, with priests and women. Let not another blow be struck.”
The Portugals, finding resistance hopeless, threw down their arms. Edward knelt down by the old man’s side, and raised his head. It was very evident that his last hours were passing by.
“My daughter?” he asked in a faint voice. “Brave Englishman, can you tell me any thing of my daughter? She had my leave to aid in your escape. I would have accompanied her had I been able.”
Edward felt sick at heart at having to tell the poor father of his daughter’s fate. Yet what could he say?
“Alas! I cannot say but I fear the worst,” was his reply.
“I dreaded to hear this, but do not blame you, noble Englishman. The last link which bound me to earth is broken, and I am ready to quit this world, which man’s folly and wickedness has made so full of woe and suffering.”
These were almost the last words the old man spoke, though the priests came round and administered the rites of their faith ere his spirit quitted its frail tenement. Even the rough seamen, despisers and haters of all papistical ceremonies, looked on with respect and awe as the old soldier’s head sank on his breast, and his hand fell powerless by his side.
Waymouth had taken precautions to secure all the entrances to the castle while the garrison were committed to the dungeons in which they had been accustomed to confine the enemies who had the misfortune of falling into their hands. Those who had gone in search of Don Lobo soon returned, bearing on a litter his dead body, an officer holding up in triumph a bunch of keys which had been found in his pockets, and shouting —
“The keys of his money-chests! the keys of his money-chests!”
“The keys are but of small service to us without the chests,” remarked the captain. “Find the chests, men, and we may make small account of the keys.”
A diligent search was therefore commenced for the reputed wealth of the old governor. It was said that he had employed thirty years in collecting it, and that he had purposed shortly returning to Europe, under the vain belief that it would afford him enjoyment and contentment. Every passage, and corner, and crevice of the castle from top to bottom was searched, and not a sign of a money-box could be discovered. Some declared that the governor’s wealth was really fabulous – that is to say, it had no existence; while others affirmed that it did exist, and would somewhere be discovered. Midshipmen generally consider hunting for rabbits very good fun, but hunting for money-chests was very much better. All the cabin-boys of the Lion hunted round and round and up and down with wonderful zeal. The captain at last promised that whoever found the wealth should have a tenth portion of it. This still further excited the diligence of all hands. Still no chests were forthcoming. Some, in revenge, proposed burning down the castle, till the captain announced that whoever set it on fire should be cast into the flames. Again and again the search was renewed. The prisoners were interrogated, but no one could tell. Rewards were offered without effect. It was evident that they did not know. Several said that Pedro Pacheco knew; but that worthy had been run through the body by a pike, which had struck him in the back as he was making his escape with a bag of gold under his arm, which he refused to stop and deliver. The booty was, after all, not so contemptible, for there were silver plate in large quantities, and jewelled ornaments, and golden coin; but, as it was not what was expected, no one was contented.
At last Oliver Marston happened to strike his foot against a ring in the corner of a small room on the ground floor of the castle. It served as the handle of a stone which without difficulty he lifted. Lights were brought. A flight of stone steps led to a vault, in which was an iron door. Crowbars, eagerly brought, forced it open, and there exposed to view were a dozen large iron chests. The governor’s keys were applied, the lids opened, and exposed to view ingots of gold and silver, and jewels and coins scarcely to be counted. Wild were the shouts of delight as chest after chest was opened, and each one in succession appeared to contain more gold and jewels than the first. The chests were computed to contain property of even greater value than what was already on board the Lion. It was no easy work to carry off the chests, but it was accomplished before the eyelids of one of the victors closed in sleep. The prisoners were allowed their liberty, the castle was set on fire, and, while the flames were bursting out on all sides, the Lion made sail with her rich freight, and stood away to the southward.
Chapter Eight
Away sailed the Lion, those on board exulting in the rich booty they had obtained, and looking ere many months had passed by once more to tread the shores of Old England and to enjoy the wealth they had gotten with so much toil and danger. Good Master Walker, the minister, did his best to warn them not to trust to the riches they had acquired, that riches are apt to take to themselves wings and flee away, and that it in no way follows that because people possess wealth they will have the power of enjoying it. These and other similar remarks were received by the officers and men in general with no good grace, and Master Walker lost popularity simply because no one could deny the truth of his remarks.
“There is many a slip between the cup and the lip,” he added one day, most greatly to the annoyance of his hearers.
The more conscious people are that a thing may probably come to pass, the more angry they are, if it is against their wish that it should happen, when they are told so. Antony Waymouth was no despiser of gold – or rather the good things of life which gold procures – but he loved his honour more, and he considered it his duty to go in search of the commander-in-chief and the rest of the fleet, if haply they might have reached the rendezvous at Bantam. Waymouth had full experience of the responsibility of power, though he had able assistants in Raymond and his first officer, Carlingford. Several of the crew had for many months shown a mutinous disposition, though the storms to which they had been exposed, the fights in which they had been engaged, and the prospect of the attack on the Castle of San Pedro, had prevented any serious outbreak. Now, however, they loudly expressed their disapproval of continuing the search for Captain Wood, declaring that he and his consorts must long since have perished, and that they, having collected so large an amount of wealth, would be acting like fools to remain out a day longer than they could help. Round the mess-table by day and during the watches of the night the only subject of conversation was the way in which they would spend their wealth when they got on shore. Their disappointment and anger therefore increased greatly when they found that the time for their return might be indefinitely delayed. Those even who had hitherto been obedient began to express themselves in a mutinous manner, and to hint that the sooner another man was captain the better it would, be for all hands fore and aft. This state of things was not unknown to Waymouth and his officers, and it put them on their guard; but while no overt act was committed, it was impossible to take active steps to bring about a change. As at first, Peter Hagger, the boatswain, with his mate and Dick Soper, a seaman, were supposed to be the ringleaders. Though narrowly watched, nothing could be proved Against them. The captain’s two cabin-boys, Oliver Marston and Alfred Stanhope, proud of the approval they had before received, determined to discover, if possible, what was wrong. They had taken Dick Lizard into their councils, assured that he, at all events, might be depended on. In spite of all their wealth and their anticipations of the pleasures it might procure, none of either high or low degree on board could boast of much enjoyment. The happiest person was Master Walker. He was doing his duty, and leaving the consequences in the hand of Heaven. The Island of Java was once more sighted and the Harbour of Bantam entered. No certain news could there be obtained of Captain Wood. Several large ships of the Hollanders had, however, visited the place since their departure, and the people had done their best to spread evil reports of the English. Waymouth cared little for this, but he vowed, should he ever come across the Hollanders, he would make them pay for their slanders, and those who knew him best had no doubt that he would put his threat into execution. Still his chief desire was to go in search of his friends, but even this could not be done without delay, for, he having ordered a survey of the Lion, the carpenters reported that she must undergo a thorough repair before she would be fit to put to sea. No man knew better than the bold captain of the Lion how to get into the good graces of people in power, and he soon gained the confidence and good-will of the King of Bantam. At the same time he was too wise to put more confidence in his majesty than was necessary; he therefore carefully kept concealed from him the amount of wealth the Lion had on board, and rather let him suppose that he and his company were needy adventurers who had yet their fortunes to make at the point of their swords, at the same time that the little they possessed they were ready to expend liberally. This policy answered so well that the repairs of the Lion were allowed to proceed without interruption.
One enemy, however, could by no means be kept at a distance. It was the black fever. While still many necessary repairs were yet to be done, it made its baneful appearance. Strong men who had boldly confronted the fiercest foes and the raging storm turned pale when they heard that it had already carried off six of their shipmates. From that time not a day passed but two or more died. Every one of the company laboured hard to get the ship ready for sea, under the belief that they should leave the fell destroyer behind them. Now the qualities of Master Walker, the chaplain, shone forth brightly, for while others shrank back from attending on the plague-stricken, he boldly went among the sick and attended the dying, giving them spiritual counsel and consolation, tending them, and administering medicines prescribed by the surgeon. Full thirty of her brave crew had succumbed to the destroyer, before the Lion, having been got ready for sea, once more ploughed the waters of the ocean. Still the fever raged. Gladly would those on board have given all their wealth to have escaped with health from the plague-stricken ship. Day after day more and more were called away. A small number only of those who were attacked survived, but so sick and weak did they remain that their recovery was hardly expected.
Waymouth had received intimation that some ships, supposed to be English, had been seen farther to the eastward, and from the description given, believing them to be Captain Wood’s squadron, he steered a course in that direction. On sailed the Lion on her solitary course. The Angel of Death still pursued her, continuing to summon one after another of her crew. Hope of finding his consorts, however, allured the brave captain on in spite of the ravages of the plague and the warnings given him of the increasing discontent of the crew.
“I know the varlets, and fear them not,” he answered. “I showed them before who was master, and will show them again to their cost.”
Meantime, Peter Hagger, the boatswain, had been biding his time and strengthening his party by every device he could think of. He well knew that he was watched, but he strove to throw the captain off his guard by a frankness of manner, an unusual attention to his duties, and the strictness with which all orders were obeyed. He appeared to have succeeded so far as to make Waymouth believe that he had abandoned his evil designs, and might be trusted. In the fore-part of the ship, far down in her inward depths, was situated his principal storeroom. There the light of day had never entered since the huge structure had been put together, nor had fresh air penetrated. It was redolent of pitchy and tarry odours, with numerous others of a far from fragrant character. A large horn lantern hung from a beam above, and shed a sickly light throughout the chamber. Here, seated on chests and casks, with their heads bent forward together as if in earnest consultation, were about a dozen seamen. Their naturally ill-favoured countenances were not improved by long exposure to the burning sun of the tropics. The presiding spirit among them was evidently Peter Hagger, the boatswain.
“Are we all agreed, mates?” he asked in his usual gruff voice.
“All,” said several. “Provided we take no lives,” added others. “The fever has been doing enough of that work lately among us.”
“Dead men tell no tales,” observed Hagger.
“If we secure the gold we need fear neither dead nor living men,” observed one of the men, who, from the tone of his voice, was evidently of superior education to the rest. “If they were ever to come back without a stiver in their pockets, who would take their word against ours, when we are rolling in wealth?”
“But if we don’t heave them overboard or run them up to the yard-arm, what are we to do with them?” was a question put by another speaker.
“Why, land them on a desolate island, or sell them to some of these Easterns, or put them on board a prize with provisions to take them to the nearest shore, that would be giving them a fair chance of escape, and no one need complain,” was the remark of a mutineer who had sided with Hagger.
“That will do,” observed the boatswain. “And now, mates, the sooner we set about this work the better. To my mind there’s no time like the present. Every day we are going farther and farther to the eastward, and every day getting more and more out of our reckoning. Now d’ye see? All we’ve to do is to sail west, and when we get into the longitude of Bon Esperanza Cape, steer north, and we’ll find our way back to Old England, never fear.”
“Ay, ay! with you as captain, Master Hagger,” exclaimed several mutineers, “we shall go straight forward, not be running here and there, looking into this port and that port, and all to no purpose, to look for people who have long since gone to Davy Jones’s locker. Peter Hagger for captain! He’s the man we want.”
Peter Hagger bent forward, for the height of the cabin did not allow him to stand upright.
“Mates, I take your terms,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve no wish to injure any man, least of all Master Waymouth, who has good qualities, I’ll allow; but we must have our rights, and if he has lost his wits – as there’s no doubt he has – it is seemly that some better man should take his place, and as you choose me, mates, why, I’m not the man to gainsay you.”
“All right, Captain Hagger; all right,” said several of the men. “But what is it you would have us do?”
“That’s what I was coming to,” answered Hagger, still more lowering his voice till it was only audible to those who put their ears close to his mouth.
The men talked long and earnestly together, till all their plans seemed matured. Not only were their plans matured, but they appeared confident of success. One by one they stole off from their place of meeting. They had no fear of having been overheard, for, suspecting that such had before been the case, they had now placed sentries to give notice of the approach of any one they might suspect. Separating, they went to their hammocks, and, what may seem strange, all except the arch-mutineer slept as soundly as if their consciences were free from blame. He could not rest; for though he believed that he was on the point of obtaining the object of his desires – the larger portion of the store of wealth contained in the Lion – yet all the time he was conscious that he had not the ability to retain command over the lawless band who had selected him as their leader, nor the knowledge necessary to navigate the ship to an English port. Still he was determined to persevere in his mad course. He trusted to chance for the future. The wealth he was resolved to have at all risks. The following night had been fixed on for the outbreak.
It was the middle watch. The weather even for those latitudes was hot and close. Many of the officers found their cabins too warm to allow them to sleep, and had come on deck to endeavour to obtain rest. Some had thrown themselves down in spots where they were unobserved, and had gone to sleep. Miles Carlingford had charge of the watch, with the two young cabin-boys, Stanhope and Marston, under him. The captain, accompanied by Edward Raymond, after a time came also on deck. Waymouth cast his eyes round the horizon several times as he slowly paced up and down with Raymond.
“I like not the look of the midnight sky,” he observed to Carlingford; “I have known black storms, with fury so terrible that scarcely the stoutest ships could withstand them, spring out of such. We must be on the watch. With our weakened crew we cannot shorten sail as we were wont to do, and yet I would not rouse up the men unnecessarily.”
“Ay, ay, sir, I’ll not let my eyes wink,” answered Carlingford; “but I hope the weather may clear without the storm. Still, there is no telling in these latitudes what may happen. I would we were out of them.”
“So do I, Master Carlingford, believe me, most heartily,” answered the captain. “I promise you, too, that if in two days we do not discover the admiral we will shape a course for the Cape of Bon Esperanza; after recruiting ourselves there we will lose no time in sailing for Old England.”
“It will be a happy time indeed, sir, when we again see the white cliffs of our native land,” remarked Raymond, anxious to keep his chief up to his intentions. “I would that the crew were made acquainted with your intentions; it would tranquillise their minds, and banish the discontent in which they now indulge.”
“They will know in good time,” answered Waymouth, somewhat angrily. “It does not do to yield to their fancies, or they will become masters over those they are bound to obey.”
Scarcely had he spoken when from each of the hatchways, which had been left open on account of the heat, numerous dark forms sprang up, though so silently that neither did he nor the other officers who were looking seaward hear or observe them. Like tigers on their prey the men threw themselves on the knot of officers, who were instantly brought violently to the deck, and pinioned before they had time to cry out. In vain they struggled; they were dragged to the guns, to one of which Waymouth, Carlingford, Raymond, and the two cabin-boys were securely lashed almost before the rest of the officers on deck had sprung to their feet, aroused by the cries they made. None had arms; and the rest of the mutineers, rushing aft, grappled with them, threatening vengeance if they resisted. Surprised and bewildered by the suddenness of the attack, scarcely aware by whom it was made, they were easily knocked down and secured.
The Welsh surgeon, Ap Reece, was below, sleeping soundly in spite of the heat and the noise, fatigued with his attendance on the sick, who were still numerous. The shouts and cries of his struggling brother officers awoke him, and, seizing a rapier and a brace of pistols, which he stuck in his belt, he was about to spring on deck to their assistance, when it occurred to him that it would be wiser to ascertain exactly what was occurring. The words which reached his ears – “Mutiny! mutiny! Help! help! Loyal men to the rescue!” – showed him clearly the state of the case.
“The scoundrels will be waiting to knock all who are below on the head as they come up,” he thought to himself; “but I will disappoint them.”
Thereon he began to make his way forward, where he was sure of finding some of the men ready to side with him. There was a passage from one end of the ship to the other, and at the division between the officers’ quarters and the fore-part a sentry was usually placed, but sickness had so diminished the numbers of the crew that there were not enough men to perform any but the most necessary duties. Ap Reece groped his way on in darkness. He heard some men hallooing out, but it was evident that they were bound, and could render him no assistance till they were released. On a sudden a hand grasped his arm.
“Who is this?” said a voice which he recognised as that of honest Dick Lizard.
“A friend to all hands,” answered the surgeon. “I hope that you have not turned mutineer, Dick.”
“No, indeed, I should hope not, sir,” replied Dick indignantly; “I have a guess of what’s going on. What can we do to help the officers? All the true men are bound hand and foot, and I’m the only one who managed to slip away.”
“We won’t despair, Dick; are you armed?” asked the surgeon.
“I’ve a hanger, sir,” was the answer.
“Come here and I’ll give you some pistols,” said Ap Reece. “Now we’ll first loose all the true men, and then make a rush together and release the captain, if we can find him. With a sword in his hand he’ll soon give good account of the mutineers and bring them to terms.”
The surgeon, stepping back, armed Dick as he had promised, and together they found their way without interruption to the fore-hatch. As they got their heads up to the coamings they perceived that the scuffling had ceased, though the voices of a few of the officers were heard upbraiding the men for their treachery.
“My friends, I beseech you to be silent. Let me speak to these misguided men,” said a voice which they recognised to be that of Master Walker, the minister. “Mutineers! – for such you are – you are triumphing now in the success of your scheme, and the fancied possession of all the wealth this ship contains; but first let me ask you what does it advantage you now? Nothing. What can it ever advantage you? You can never enjoy it; for be assured that the vengeance of Heaven will overtake you sooner or later; even now, wretched men, it is preparing for you.”
“Cease, cease, Master Walker,” exclaimed Hagger, stepping up to the minister. “We wish you no ill; necessity makes us act as we do. We want to injure no one, but we won’t stand opposition, and I for one cannot be answerable for the consequences.”
It is needless to say that this threat was accompanied by numerous oaths which need not be repeated; in truth, Peter Hagger never spoke without interlarding his remarks with expressions of that description.
Ap Reece guessed correctly that the appeal of Master Walker would have no present beneficial effect, and therefore he and Lizard slipped down below again and made their way to the cabins of some of the inferior officers whom the latter believed had not joined in the mutiny. Two of them, the gunner and carpenter, were found lashed in their berths, not having the slightest conception of what had occurred, and believing that they were the only sufferers. A few brief words explained matters to them. Three other men who had positively refused to join the mutiny were found lashed in different parts of the ship. They were released, hangers were placed in their hands, and, together, led by Ap Reece, they sprang on deck and rushed aft to where the officers lay bound, their principal object being to release Captain Waymouth and then to attack the mutineers.
As they were on their way, a shout and a loud oath from Hagger, who saw them coming, called the attention of his followers, the boatswain throwing himself before the captain at the moment Ap Reece was about with his hanger to sever the lashings which bound him. The surgeon was therefore compelled to use his weapon to defend his own life, for the boatswain, seeing what he was about, attacked him with the greatest fury, and a desperate combat ensued. Lizard and the other men, foiled in their attempt to release some of the officers, were fighting for their lives. Dick and his party were, however, able to keep their immediate opponents at bay, the chief interest centring between Ap Reece and the boatswain. Hagger was a huge, powerful man, with around bullet-head covered by black shaggy hair, and a face of the bull-dog type. Ap Reece, on the contrary, was a slight active man, but he made up by activity what he wanted in strength. He, too, had science, which the boatswain had not, and altogether the combatants were not unevenly matched. The great strength of the boatswain gave him, however, somewhat the advantage, as he wisely only stood on the defensive, allowing the surgeon to exhaust his powers. Ap Reece sprang round and round him – now he retreated, now he advanced, but to no purpose – Hagger was not to be betrayed into abandoning his tactics. He waited his opportunity. It came. The surgeon’s foot slipped, and unable to recover himself, his knees came with great force on the deck. At that instant a flash of lightning darting from the clouds revealed the combatants to each other.
“Hagger, I saved your life once when all hope seemed gone,” exclaimed Ap Reece, as the mutineer’s weapon was about to descend on his head. “I don’t ask for my life from you or such a one as you. Strike, and add a gross act of folly to your crimes and madness. But the fever has not left the ship yet; and the time will come ere long when you and your comrades in your night’s work will want my aid, and will be ready to give for it all the gold you have got in your possession. Strike, I say.”
The boatswain’s hanger was again lifted as if to strike, when one of his own party sprang forward.
“Hold, hold, Master Hagger,” he cried out, interposing his own weapon. “Our surgeon speaks the truth. We, any one of us, may want doctoring ere an hour be over, and who’s to doctor us an’ we trust to Tim Rosemerry, who swears he knows the whole art, from having served an apprenticeship for six mouths to a foreign leech in the city of Westminster? I put it, mates, are we to have a doctor who knows nothing, or a friend who has set many of us on his legs when we thought that we were never to walk again?”
“Let the doctor live! let the doctor live!” exclaimed all the men, surrounding the boatswain, who dropped the point of his weapon.
“Thanks, friends. I accept my life, for I have no wish to lose it,” said Ap Reece, rising to his feet. “The sick I will doctor as before; but remember, I will sanction no act of violence or cruelty while I remain with you.”
“Oh, we are all honourable men here,” cried several of the men in a derisive tone, to which remark the surgeon thought it imprudent to reply.
While this scene was acting, Dick Lizard and his companions were exchanging blows with the rest of the mutineers; but overwhelmed by numbers, two were killed, and Dick and another were brought to the deck badly wounded. Dick had been a general favourite; and although the mutineers were exasperated with him for the attack he had made on them, and for the unmeasured abuse he now heaped on their heads, they agreed he was too good a fellow to be put out of the way, and that if he would keep a civil tongue in his head, he should live. This was a somewhat difficult task for honest Dick, though, when his life was offered, like a wise man he accepted it without thinking it necessary to make any stipulations.
