Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Our chronicle takes us back to the time when the fight between the English and Portugal fleets was raging most furiously, and when, to an inexperienced eye like that of Edward Raymond, on finding his ship surrounded, it might naturally have appeared that victory was siding with his foes rather than with his own party. He believed, however, that by a desperate effort the day might be retrieved, and he gallantly resolved on his part to make the effort, trusting that others would be doing the like at the same moment. Just then he caught sight of Waymouth repelling the boarders from one of the Portugal ships, and so calling on all the men near to follow, he led them on to the deck of another of the enemy’s ships which had at that moment run alongside. So fierce was his attack, that the foe gave way, and before many minutes were over he found himself master of the ship; but in the mean time she had broken clear of the Lion, and was drifting down on another Portugal ship coming freshly into the fight. The two were soon locked together, and while he with his handful of followers was endeavouring to defend his prize at one end of the ship, a party of Portugals rushed on board at the other. In vain he fought with the greatest heroism. Most of his followers were cut down. Pressed on all sides, he had not a prospect of success. Another Portugal ship came up. His prize, so gallantly taken, was already recaptured. Unable to parry a stroke made at him, he was severely wounded, and dropping the point of his sword, he yielded himself a prisoner to the reiterated demands of a Portugal captain who had headed the chief body of his assailants. The three Portugal ships had, however, fallen within the fire of the Red Dragon and the Serpent, whose shot crashing on board made them glad to set all the sail they could spread and draw off. As Edward stood on the deck and saw the shattered condition of the English ships, he could scarcely believe that the enemy were really drawing off; but when he afterwards saw some of the Portugals actually sinking, and others with their masts gone, he could not refrain from uttering a cheer, faint though it was, at the thought that his countrymen had gained the hard-fought victory. In this he was joined by the few survivors of his brave followers, all of whom were more or less wounded. On hearing the cheer, some of the Portugals came towards them with threatening gestures, one of them exclaiming, in tolerably good English—“You are impudent fellows indeed to cheer when you are miserable prisoners on board the ship of an enemy. Do not you see that we are victorious?”“Running away is a funny mode of proving it, Senhor Portugal,” answered Dick Lizard, one of the seamen, cocking his eye at the speaker. “If you had cheered, now, we might have thought you had won the day; but I sticks to my opinion that it’s we have won the day; and so I say, one cheer more for Old England. Old England forever!”The Portugal’s rage was so great that he would have given Dick a clout on the head which would have finished his shouting, had not Raymond, weak as he was, stepped forward to defend his follower, who was much hurt.“Shame on you, Senhor Portugal,” he exclaimed, standing over Dick with a broken spar which he had grasped to defend him. “What! would you strike a wounded man simply because he knows the satisfaction he feels that our countrymen are free, if not the victors, and not as we are, prisoners?”“You crow loudly for a cock with his leg tied,” said the man, desisting, however, from his attempt to strike poor Dick.Some more seamen had now assembled, threatening to punish the English for their audacity, when their captain made his appearance among them, inquiring the cause of the disturbance.“Senhor,” he said, turning to Edward, “you are my prisoner, though I wish to treat you as a brave man and a gentleman; but I cannot always restrain my people, who are somewhat lawless in their notions; and I must therefore request that, whatever may be the feelings of your countrymen, they will keep them within bounds.”So many of the Portugals were wounded, that it was some time before the not very skilful surgeons of the ship could attend to the English, who had, and perhaps fortunately for themselves, to doctor their own hurts, which they did, one helping the other in their own rough but efficacious way. It was pleasant to see the hardy tars helping each other like brethren, washing and cleansing each other’s wounds—several of them tearing up their shirts to bind up their comrades’ limbs, or letting their heads rest with tender care in their laps. Those who had still strength to stand anxiously watched the fast-receding fleet of the English till their loftier masts sank below the horizon, and all hope of being pursued and retaken was abandoned.“Troth, sir, I suppose, then, we must make the best of a bad job,” said Lizard, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s my philosophy. I learned it when I was a little chap from my father, who was a great philosopher, seeing that he was a cobbler, and have stuck to it ever since, and never found it fail. What’s the odds? says I. Why should a man sigh and groan if he can laugh? why should he cry and moan if he can sing? If things are bad, they can be mended—just as my father used to say of the old shoes brought to him. If that isn’t a comfort, I don’t know what is.”Most of the Portugal ships escaping from the fight kept together; but meeting the same hurricane which caused such fearful havoc among the English fleet, they also were separated, some going where so many proud argosies have gone—to the bottom—the Santa Maria, the ship on board which Edward found himself, being left alone to pursue her voyage. Edward suffered much from his wound, and had far from recovered his strength when the Santa Maria arrived at Goa. Goa was at that time the largest European settlement in the East; and here the Portugals, to impress the natives with the beauty of the faith they professed, had established that admirable institution, the benign Inquisition. Here those edifying spectacles,autos-da-fé, frequently took place, when men of all ages, women, and even children, were paraded forth, dressed in hideous garments, to be burned alive in consequence of their unwillingness to confess their belief in the doctrines held by the Church. Our chronicle does not decide whether the Portugal priesthood were right or wrong in their proceedings; but, undoubtedly, very few converts were made to the Christian faith, and the influence of their country in the East has long since decreased to zero. The appearance of the place, though deceptive, was in its favour, and innumerable large churches, monasteries, and other public buildings reared their heads on its sandy shores. Those were the days of old Goa’s grandeur and magnificence, soon to depart for ever.Instead, however, of being landed here, the prisoners were conveyed to the Fort of San Pedro, to the south, lest inconvenient questions might be too often asked as to how they came to be there, and what had become of the rest of the fleet which captured them.The Castle of San Pedro was a strong fortress with high walls and towers—a gloomy-looking place, as gloomy as any spot in that land of sunshine can be, but gloomy undoubtedly it appeared to poor Edward and his companions, as, strongly guarded, they were conducted through its portals, not knowing when they might repass them and obtain their liberty. They were first conducted into the presence of the governor, a surly old don of the most immovable character; his face was like smoke-dried parchment, with beard of formal cut, and eyes so sunk that nothing could be seen but two small spots of jetty hue, overhung with grey shaggy eyebrows. Without the slightest expression of courtesy or commiseration, he at once commenced interrogating Edward in the Portugal tongue, ordering a yellow-skinned trembling clerk, who squatted at his side with a huge book before him, to write down his replies.Edward answered succinctly to all the questions put to him, requesting that, as prisoners of war, he and his men might be treated with the courtesy usually awarded to persons in their position, by civilised nations, among whom the Portugals stood prominent.“Call yourselves prisoners of war!” exclaimed Don Lobo, pulling his moustaches vehemently. “You are pirates—you and your countrymen—nothing better; and as such deserve to be thrown from the top of one of the towers of this castle, or dangled from one of the turrets by a rope, or shot, or drowned—any death is too good for you; burning at the stake as heretics—ay, vile heretics as you are—is most fit for you. See that such is not your lot.”Edward made no reply to this address, feeling that such would only too probably exasperate the petty tyrant. Dick Lizard was, however, not so judicious. Having had a good deal of intercourse with the Portugals, he knew enough of their language to understand what was said; so, putting his left arm akimbo, and doubling his right fist, he exclaimed—“Call us pirates! I’ll tell you what you and your dastardly crew are, Senhor Don Governor: you are a set of garlic-eating, oil-drinking sons of sea-cooks, who rob the weak when you can catch them, and run away from the strong like arrant knaves and cowards as you are. You are—”What other complimentary remarks poor Dick might have uttered it is impossible to say; for as he was beginning his next sentence, a blow from the butt-end of an arquebuse laid him prostrate on the floor. Edward, afraid that his bold countryman had been killed, knelt down by his side. But Dick’s head was too hard to succumb to the strength of a Portugal’s arm, even when wielding a heavy weapon.“All right, sir,” he said, opening his eyes. “I’ll be at them again, and give ’em more of my mind, and my fist too, if I can get at them.”Edward, however, advised him under the circumstances to keep both one and the other to himself, and, as he did not feel disposed to be polite to his masters, to hold his tongue.“Masters! Marry, masters, indeed!” cried Dick. “If you says they are masters, sir, I suppose they be; but they’ll find me a terrible obstinate servant to deal with, let me tell them.”“No, don’t tell them, Lizard, that or any thing else,” said Edward soothingly. “You see that at all events we are in their power, and unless they let us go we may have some difficulty in escaping.”“Not if we can get some planks to float on, sir,” whispered Lizard. “That notion of yours, sir, has brought me to sooner nor any thing. I thinks as how now, sir, I can keep a civil tongue in my head to those baboon-faced, sneaking, blackguard scoundrels.”“Get up, then, man, and remember not to speak a word while I explain your sentiments,” said Edward, glad by any means to save his follower from ill treatment.The Portugals, who fully believed that the blow must have inflicted a mortal injury on the man, fancied that his officer was receiving his last dying words, a message to his distant home, and did not interfere with him. Their surprise, therefore, was proportionately great when they saw him got up on his legs, give a hitch to his waistband, and, after sundry scratches and pulls at his shaggy locks, once more address the governor.“An’ may it please your honour, Senhor Don Governor, I axes your reverence’s pardon for calling you and your people yellow-faced sons of sea-cooks (because as how to my mind your fathers and mothers were never any thing so respectable,” he added in a low tone). “Howsomdever, as your honour knows, I am but a rough seaman who’s followed his calling on the salt water all the days of his life, and will follow it, maybe, to the end, and therefore much manners can’t be expected; and so, Senhor Scarecrow, or whatever is your name, I hope you’ll not log down against my officer here or my shipmates any thing you’ve heard.”Edward, as soon as he could put in a word, began to offer an interpretation of what had been said. It was not very literal, but interpreters are seldom exact in translation. He remarked that his follower had forgotten himself, that the blow had brought him to his senses, and that he now wished to render every apology in his power to one like Senhor Don Lobo, who so greatly merited his respect.The old governor pulled away at his beard for some time, and twirled his moustaches, but was at length pacified sufficiently to order the prisoners to be carried off to the ward prepared for them.Edward, determined to maintain a courteous demeanour in spite of the harshness with which he was treated, bowed to the governor as he was marched off between two guards, who seemed to think that the pugnacious Englishmen would by some means or other break away from them, and effect their escape. For that reason Dick Lizard had no less than six guards, one on each side, and two in front, and two behind; and certainly, as he rolled along with his sea cap stuck on the back of his head, his brawny arms bare, and his broad chest exposed, he appeared capable of successfully accomplishing any design he might conceive on his captors. The rest of the seamen imitated him with more or less effect, and were evidently customers of whom the Portugals stood greatly in awe.The ward in which the English prisoners were placed was a room in a tower on a third floor overlooking the sea. It might have made a not unpleasant chamber if nicely fitted up, but as the only aperture to admit light and air was strongly barred, as the walls were of rough stone, the floor dirty, and heaps of not the cleanest straw were made to do duty for beds, the state of the case was very different. There were no chairs or tables; so that when the prisoners got tired of walking about they were obliged to betake themselves to their heaps of straw. Here day after day passed by. Edward, however, with the aid of Dick, who firmly believed in his power of escaping, kept up the spirits of the party by inducing them to tell their long and astounding yarns, and singing a variety of songs. Sometimes their guards came in to inquire why they were making so much noise, but they were not generally interfered with. Occasionally they received a visit from the surly old governor, when Edward, instead of asking for better quarters, as he might reasonably have done, treated him with the same respect as at first. Dick Lizard pretended to do the same; but as soon as the stately don had passed him the expression of his features and his gestures showed that his respect was not of an enduring quality. As the governor passed along the ward, Dick would imitate his strut and would give a stately bow, now on one side, now on the other, his countenance all the time in a broad grin. Even the warders and guards were amused by his antics, and for fear of putting a stop to them only gave way to their laughter when they saw that the governor was not looking towards them.“All right, sir,” said Dick to Edward one day, after he had been indulging in more than his usual facetiousness, and the governor had taken his departure. “To my mind these Portugals care very little for their old don, or they wouldn’t laugh at him as they do; and it’s my belief that we shall be able to bribe them to let us slip out one of these fine nights without making any noise about it, and when the morning comes we shall be gone.”Edward’s heart beat with joy at the thought, but after reflecting a little he answered, with a sigh—“A bright idea, Dick, but I fear me much the wherewithal to bribe is sadly wanting. The rogues have left us little else but the clothes on our backs.”The seaman gave a well-satisfied hitch to his waistband—a movement indicative of satisfaction or hesitation, as well as other emotions of the mind, among nautical characters in all ages—and observed—“The dons are not quite as clever as they think, sir. They left us our clothes, but I and two more of us had lined them pretty thickly with good lots of yellow-boys, and there they are all safe. You know, sir, a seaman never knows what may happen, and to my mind it’s a wise custom among some of us. To be sure, if we comed to be cast away on a desolate island, all the gold in the world wouldn’t help a man to get off so much as a sharp axe and a chest of carpenter’s tools; but among people with manners and customs, though I can’t say much for either one or the other of those hereabouts, there’s nothing like gold!”“True indeed, Lizard,” said Edward, partaking somewhat of the confidence of his follower, at the same time that he saw more clearly, probably, the difficulties in their way. He therefore entreated Dick and the rest to act with the greatest circumspection, and to appear to submit with perfect readiness to the rules and regulations of the place. The good effect of this conduct was apparent by the greater liberty which the prisoners obtained, and they were now allowed to take their exercise in the open air on the flat roof of part of the castle. Thence in a short time they were allowed to descend to a terrace overlooking the sea, where, however, they were watched by several lynx-eyed guards stationed above them.It is seldom that those shores are visited by storms, but when the wind does blow it makes ample amends for its usual state of quiescence. In spite of a gale which had sprung up, Edward, with Dick Lizard and several of the other prisoners, was walking up and down on the said terrace, when Dick, whose eyes were of the sharpest, exclaimed that he saw a tall ship driving on before the gale, which set directly on the coast.“Alas for the hapless crew!” exclaimed Edward. “I fear me they will all be lost!”“Not a doubt about it, sir, unless some true-hearted seamen venture out to their rescue when the ship strikes, as strike she must before many hours are over.”“Are you ready to go, Lizard?” asked Edward.“An’ that I am, sir, and all the rest of us, I’ll warrant, if a boat can be found to swim in such a sea,” answered Dick.“Then I’ll lead you, my brave lads!” said Edward warmly. “I’ll go seek the governor and get from him a boat fit for our purpose. Whoever they are, I could not bear to see our fellow-creatures perish without an effort to save them. But perhaps the Portugals themselves will be eager to go, and not thank us for making the offer.”“Not a bit of it,” answered Dick sturdily. “I’ve seen brave Portugals, I’ll allow, but when they come out to this country all the good gets burnt out of them.”Dick was not far from right. Edward got access to the governor, who at once inquired if any one was ready to volunteer to go to the rescue of the crew of the ship now closely approaching the land; but when it was understood that the English prisoners had offered to risk their lives in the undertaking, no one was found willing to deprive them of the honour.A fine seaworthy boat was placed at Edward’s disposal, and at the head of his men, who were in the highest spirits, he walked out once more from prison.Of what nation was the approaching ship was the question. To the honest tars and the brave gentlemen they followed it mattered nothing whether she was friend or foe. The Portugals had, however, discovered her to belong to their own people, and this, although it did not make them the more disposed to risk their own lives, induced them the more willingly to allow the English to do so to any extent they might see fit. Great was the eagerness they exhibited in bringing oars, and tholes, and boathooks, and ropes down to the boat, and still more, when the English had got into her, in launching her into deep water. This could not have been done on the open beach, on which the sea broke with terrific force, but she was hauled up on the shore of a natural harbour formed by two ledges of rocks rising a considerable height above the water. As the outer ends circled round and overlapped each other, the water inside the basin thus formed was comparatively smooth. Outside, however, the sea broke with terrific fury, threatening to overwhelm any boat or other floating machine which might get within its influence.Some way to the north was another wide extending ledge of rocks, towards which it appeared that the unfortunate ship was drifting; but even should she escape that particular lodge and drive on the beach, the chance that any of those on board would escape was small indeed, for so high were the rollers and so powerful the reflux that once within their influence the stoutest ship could not hold together many minutes, and should any living beings washed towards the shore escape being dashed to pieces or killed by the broken planks and spars, they would be carried again out to sea and lost. Edward and Dick Lizard saw clearly this state of things, but they were not in consequence deterred from attempting to perform their errand of mercy. They also saw that if they would be successful there must be no delay. Each man having secured his oar with a rope, and himself to his seat by the same means, Edward gave the sign to the Portugals to shove off the boat. With loud shouts they placed their shoulders under her sides, and then, shrieking and grunting in concert, they almost lifted her along the sand till she floated, when the English prisoners bringing their oars into play shoved her off into the middle of the basin. Dick Lizard took the helm, while Edward stood up to judge of the best moment for crossing through the breakers. The crew went, steadily to their work. No one was ignorant of the danger to be gone through. At the entrance of the little harbour a white wall of water rose up before them, curling round and topped with masses of glittering foam, which fell in dense showers, blown by the gale over them, tending to blind and bewilder even the most experienced seaman of the party. Edward was at first in despair of finding a channel through which the boat could by any possibility pass and live. Some of the Portugals had, however, assured him that at times between the intervals of the heavier seas he would be able to get through, and he resolved to persevere if his men were ready to do so.“Ready, ay, ready, every one of us, Master Raymond,” answered Dick Lizard, after the briefest of consultations with his comrades. “Where’s the odds? We can but die once, whether with a Portugal’s bullet through us, or by thevomito prèitoor under yonder foaming seas—what matters it? An’ you wish to go, we, to a man, will go too.”“Thanks, my brave lads; and now, when I order you to give way, give way you must, or be ready to back water at the word,” exclaimed Edward, standing up in the stern-sheets of the boat so as to command a view over the mass of seething, raging, roaring water which rose before him. Sea after sea rolled in, and with a voice of thunder broke on the rocks with a force sufficient, it seemed, to dash them to fragments; but, placed there by the hand of Omnipotence to curb the fury of the wild ocean, the proud waters were hurled back upon themselves again and again, unable to gain a foot on their fixed confines, shattered into minute atoms of foam which the wind bore far away on its fleet wings, while the iron rocks remained fixed as of old, laughing to scorn their reiterated attacks.The ship meantime was approaching nearer and nearer to the shore. Had she been drifting directly on it, she would by that time have been cast helpless on the stern rocks, but happily part of her foremast was still standing, on which a sail being set, her course was somewhat diagonal, and she was therefore longer in reaching her impending fate than had at first appeared likely to be the case. Now she rose on the summit of a foaming sea, now she sank into the hollow, seemingly as if never to appear again; but bravely she struggled on, like a being endued with life, resolved to battle to the last, yet knowing that destruction was inevitable. Edward observed that although at first there appeared to be no difference in the height of the rollers, yet that after a time several of less apparent strength came tumbling in unbroken till they actually touched the rocks, leaving a narrow yet clear space between them. Through this space he determined to urge his boat. He pulled down to the very mouth of the harbour; the crew lay on their oars. A huge sea came roaring on majestically, and breaking into foam almost overwhelmed the boat. Directly afterwards the clear channel appeared.“Give way, give way, brave lads!” shouted Edward.The boat sprang on. Immediate destruction or success awaited them. The blades of the oars were concealed amid the seething waters on either side, and the foam came bubbling up over the gunwales, but the boat still held her course outward. She rose towards the summit of a lofty sea; the men strained every nerve. Up she climbed; then downward she slid rapidly to meet another sea, up which she worked her way as before. Another and another appeared in rapid succession; she surmounted them all, and the open ocean was gained.Having gained a sufficient distance from the land, they had to keep along shore with the sea stream—a dangerous position, as, should the boat be caught by a roller, she would most certainly be turned over and over till she was dashed in fragments on the beach. On they came to the ship, plunging through the seas, and appearing as if every instant would be her last, even before she could reach the fatal strand. As they drew near they could distinguish the people on board in various attitudes indicative of despair. There were many hapless beings—sailors, soldiers, civilians, and women and children, some infants in arms, all full of life, and yet, ere many fleeting minutes could pass away, to be numbered with the dead. One last desperate effort was, it was seen, now made by the crew of the ship to save their lives. Two anchors were let go, the cables flying out like lightning from the bows, while at the same moment gleaming axes cut away the remaining part of the foremast, which plunged free of the ship into the sea. It was a well-executed, seamanlike manoeuvre. The stout ship was brought up, and although she plunged with her lofty bow almost under the seas, it seemed that her anchors were about to hold her. Hope revived in the breasts of those on board. Edward and his brave companions pulled alongside; ropes were hove to them, and they maintained the position they had gained, although in the greatest possible peril of being swamped. To climb up to the deck of the ship was almost impossible, but Raymond shouted out that he was ready to convey as many of the passengers to the shore as were willing to trust themselves to his charge. Many of those who but a short time before had given way to despair were now unwilling to leave the stout ship which still floated under them for a small open boat. Some who had less confidence in the power of the anchors to hold the ship, hurried to the side, and showed by their gestures that they wished to enter the boat. Without assistance, however, to make the attempt were madness, and the Portugal seamen exhibited no intention of helping them.“I’ll do it, Master Raymond,” cried Dick Lizard, seizing a rope which hung over the side, and with a nimbleness which alone prevented him from being crushed between the boat and the ship he climbed up over her bulwarks. Two seamen followed his example.Several more persons came crowding to the side of the vessel on seeing the hardihood of the British seamen in venturing to their assistance. Dick seized the person he found nearest to him as he leaped on deck. It was a young girl. She was clasping the arm of a grey-headed, tall old man, who seemed to be her father.“No time for ceremony, fair lady,” cried Dick; “bless your sweet face, I’ll make all square when we gets you safe on shore; just now, do you see, you mustn’t mind a little rough handling. There! there! let go the old gentleman’s fist; we’ll lower him after you, never fear. Hold on taut by the rope, as you love me. A drop of tar won’t hurt your pretty hands. There! there! away you go! Look out below there! Gingerly, lads, lower away. Now, old gentleman, you follows your daughter, I suppose?”These exclamations were all uttered while Dick and his companions were securing a rope round the young lady’s waist, and lowering her into the boat. She gazed upward at her father with a look of affection as she felt herself hanging over the raging ocean while the boat seemed receding from her. A loud shriek of terror escaped her. Dick waited till the boat had again risen, and just as it was about to descend into the trough, he let the young girl drop into the arms of Raymond, who stood ready to receive her, and with a sharp knife cut the rope above her head, not waiting to cast it loose. The next comer was, as Dick promised, the old gentleman, who, even less able to help himself than the young lady, was treated much in the same way.A young mother with her child, whom with one arm she clutched convulsively to her bosom, while with the other with a parent’s loving instinct she endeavoured to prevent the infant from being dashed against the ship’s side, was next lowered. Not a sound did she utter. Once the ship, gave an unexpected roll, and she was thrown rudely against the side, but she only clasped her infant the tighter, and heeded not the cruel blows she was receiving. Barely could Edward with all his strength secure her and free her from the rope before the boat was dashed off to a distance from the ship. Again, however, the boat was hauled up alongside. Lizard had now slung two little boys together. Though pale with terror, they bravely encouraged each other as they hung over the foaming ocean till the position of the boat enabled them to be lowered into her.Their father stood on the bulwarks watching them with all a father’s affection, he himself wishing to follow immediately, but being prohibited from making the attempt till some more women and children had been lowered. Lizard and his companions laboured on unceasingly, for none of the Portugal’s crew would render them any assistance. Several other people were thus conveyed to the boat, but many who seemed at first inclined to leave the ship lost courage as they saw the hazard of the undertaking. Some, again, as they gazed towards the foam-covered shore, and heard the roar of the seas as they dashed on the wild rocks, or rolled up on the shingly beach, showed that they would rather trust their safety to the boat than to the labouring ship. Among them was a young man who pushed forward requesting to be lowered.“No, no, senhor don,” said Lizard. “Do ye see that there are more women and children to go first? We must look after the weaker ones, who can’t help themselves. That’s the rule we rovers of the ocean stick to.”The young man, either not comprehending him, or so eager to escape as to forget all other considerations, sprang up on the bulwarks, and, seizing a rope, attempted to lower himself without assistance. Miscalculating the time, he descended rapidly; the ship gave a sudden lurch, the boat swung off, and the foaming sea surging up tore him from the rope, and with a fearful cry of despair he sank for ever. He was the first victim claimed by the ocean. His fate deterred others from making a like attempt.“Come, senhor,” said Lizard to the father of the little boys, “if you wish to go with us it’s fair you should, seeing that others are thinking about the matter instead of acting. You just trust to me, and I’ll land you safely.”Comprehending what Lizard meant by his gestures, rather than by his words, he submitted himself to his guidance, and was placed by the side of his boys. At that instant a cry arose on board the ship that the anchors were dragging. Lizard soon saw that the report was too true. Now numbers were eager to jump into the boat. She might have carried three more persons, but in the attempt to receive them scores might have leaped in, and the boat would have been swamped. Dick and his companions had no fancy to be wrecked with the ship; so, seizing ropes, they swung themselves into the boat. The next moment the rope which held the boat was cut, and she floated clear of the ship. The oars were got out and hastily plied by the sturdy seamen. Good reason had they to exert all their strength, for the ship, while dragging her anchors, had already carried them fearfully near the roaring line of breakers among which she herself was about to be engulfed. With horror those who had been rescued contemplated the impending fate of their late companions. Slowly the boat worked her way out to sea, while the ship, with far greater rapidity, drove towards the shore. Now the wind, which appeared for an instant to have lulled, breezed up again. Hardly could the boat hold her own. Edward and Lizard had to keep their eyes seaward to watch the waves in order to steer their boat amid their foaming crests. The hapless people on board too well knew what must be their own fate. In vain they shrieked for help; in vain they held out their arms; vain, truly, was the help of man. A furious blast swept over the ocean. A mass of foam broke over the boat. Raymond believed that she could not rise to the coming sea, but, buoyantly as before, she climbed up its watery side, struggling bravely. As she reached its summit a cry escaped the rowers—“The anchors have parted! Good God! the anchors have parted!”In an instant more the raging seas, foaming and hissing, broke over the stout ship, ingulfing in their eager embrace many of those who were till then standing on the deck full of life and strength. Still the waters seemed to cry out for more. Each time they rushed up more and more were torn from their hold. Some strong swimmers struggled for a few moments amid the boiling surges for dear life, but the shrieks of most of them were speedily silenced in death. The stout ship, too, stout as she was, quickly yielded to the fury of the breakers. The high poop was torn away as if made of thin pasteboard; the wide forecastle, with the remainder of the crew still clinging to it, was carried off and speedily dashed to fragments; the stout hull next, with a wild crash, was rent asunder, and huge timbers, and beams, and planks were dashed to and fro amid the foaming billows, speedily silencing the agonised shrieks of those who yet hoped—though hoped in vain—to reach the land where hundreds upon hundreds of their fellow-creatures stood bewailing their fate, but unable to render them assistance. But a few minutes had passed by since the tall ship had struck on those cruel rocks, and now her shattered fragments strewed the ocean, some carried back by the receding waves, others cast, torn and splintered, on the beach with tangled masses of ropes, and spars, and seaweed. Here and there a human form, mangled, pallid, and lifeless, could be discerned, surrounded by the remnants of the wreck, now approaching, now again dashed off suddenly from the shore; now an arm might be seen lifted up as if imploringly for help; now the head, now the very lips, might be seen to move, but it was but the dead mocking at the living. No sound escaped those lips; for ever they were to be silent. Most of those thus momentarily seen were swept off again to become the prey of the ravenous monsters of the deep. A few of the poor remnants of frail mortality were cast up and left upon the shore, whence they were carried up by the pitying hands of charity to be interred in their mother earth, but by far the greater number were among those who shall rest in their ocean graves till the time arrives when the sea shall give up her dead, and all, from every land and every clime throughout all ages since the world was peopled, shall meet together for judgment.

Our chronicle takes us back to the time when the fight between the English and Portugal fleets was raging most furiously, and when, to an inexperienced eye like that of Edward Raymond, on finding his ship surrounded, it might naturally have appeared that victory was siding with his foes rather than with his own party. He believed, however, that by a desperate effort the day might be retrieved, and he gallantly resolved on his part to make the effort, trusting that others would be doing the like at the same moment. Just then he caught sight of Waymouth repelling the boarders from one of the Portugal ships, and so calling on all the men near to follow, he led them on to the deck of another of the enemy’s ships which had at that moment run alongside. So fierce was his attack, that the foe gave way, and before many minutes were over he found himself master of the ship; but in the mean time she had broken clear of the Lion, and was drifting down on another Portugal ship coming freshly into the fight. The two were soon locked together, and while he with his handful of followers was endeavouring to defend his prize at one end of the ship, a party of Portugals rushed on board at the other. In vain he fought with the greatest heroism. Most of his followers were cut down. Pressed on all sides, he had not a prospect of success. Another Portugal ship came up. His prize, so gallantly taken, was already recaptured. Unable to parry a stroke made at him, he was severely wounded, and dropping the point of his sword, he yielded himself a prisoner to the reiterated demands of a Portugal captain who had headed the chief body of his assailants. The three Portugal ships had, however, fallen within the fire of the Red Dragon and the Serpent, whose shot crashing on board made them glad to set all the sail they could spread and draw off. As Edward stood on the deck and saw the shattered condition of the English ships, he could scarcely believe that the enemy were really drawing off; but when he afterwards saw some of the Portugals actually sinking, and others with their masts gone, he could not refrain from uttering a cheer, faint though it was, at the thought that his countrymen had gained the hard-fought victory. In this he was joined by the few survivors of his brave followers, all of whom were more or less wounded. On hearing the cheer, some of the Portugals came towards them with threatening gestures, one of them exclaiming, in tolerably good English—“You are impudent fellows indeed to cheer when you are miserable prisoners on board the ship of an enemy. Do not you see that we are victorious?”

“Running away is a funny mode of proving it, Senhor Portugal,” answered Dick Lizard, one of the seamen, cocking his eye at the speaker. “If you had cheered, now, we might have thought you had won the day; but I sticks to my opinion that it’s we have won the day; and so I say, one cheer more for Old England. Old England forever!”

The Portugal’s rage was so great that he would have given Dick a clout on the head which would have finished his shouting, had not Raymond, weak as he was, stepped forward to defend his follower, who was much hurt.

“Shame on you, Senhor Portugal,” he exclaimed, standing over Dick with a broken spar which he had grasped to defend him. “What! would you strike a wounded man simply because he knows the satisfaction he feels that our countrymen are free, if not the victors, and not as we are, prisoners?”

“You crow loudly for a cock with his leg tied,” said the man, desisting, however, from his attempt to strike poor Dick.

Some more seamen had now assembled, threatening to punish the English for their audacity, when their captain made his appearance among them, inquiring the cause of the disturbance.

“Senhor,” he said, turning to Edward, “you are my prisoner, though I wish to treat you as a brave man and a gentleman; but I cannot always restrain my people, who are somewhat lawless in their notions; and I must therefore request that, whatever may be the feelings of your countrymen, they will keep them within bounds.”

So many of the Portugals were wounded, that it was some time before the not very skilful surgeons of the ship could attend to the English, who had, and perhaps fortunately for themselves, to doctor their own hurts, which they did, one helping the other in their own rough but efficacious way. It was pleasant to see the hardy tars helping each other like brethren, washing and cleansing each other’s wounds—several of them tearing up their shirts to bind up their comrades’ limbs, or letting their heads rest with tender care in their laps. Those who had still strength to stand anxiously watched the fast-receding fleet of the English till their loftier masts sank below the horizon, and all hope of being pursued and retaken was abandoned.

“Troth, sir, I suppose, then, we must make the best of a bad job,” said Lizard, shrugging his shoulders. “That’s my philosophy. I learned it when I was a little chap from my father, who was a great philosopher, seeing that he was a cobbler, and have stuck to it ever since, and never found it fail. What’s the odds? says I. Why should a man sigh and groan if he can laugh? why should he cry and moan if he can sing? If things are bad, they can be mended—just as my father used to say of the old shoes brought to him. If that isn’t a comfort, I don’t know what is.”

Most of the Portugal ships escaping from the fight kept together; but meeting the same hurricane which caused such fearful havoc among the English fleet, they also were separated, some going where so many proud argosies have gone—to the bottom—the Santa Maria, the ship on board which Edward found himself, being left alone to pursue her voyage. Edward suffered much from his wound, and had far from recovered his strength when the Santa Maria arrived at Goa. Goa was at that time the largest European settlement in the East; and here the Portugals, to impress the natives with the beauty of the faith they professed, had established that admirable institution, the benign Inquisition. Here those edifying spectacles,autos-da-fé, frequently took place, when men of all ages, women, and even children, were paraded forth, dressed in hideous garments, to be burned alive in consequence of their unwillingness to confess their belief in the doctrines held by the Church. Our chronicle does not decide whether the Portugal priesthood were right or wrong in their proceedings; but, undoubtedly, very few converts were made to the Christian faith, and the influence of their country in the East has long since decreased to zero. The appearance of the place, though deceptive, was in its favour, and innumerable large churches, monasteries, and other public buildings reared their heads on its sandy shores. Those were the days of old Goa’s grandeur and magnificence, soon to depart for ever.

Instead, however, of being landed here, the prisoners were conveyed to the Fort of San Pedro, to the south, lest inconvenient questions might be too often asked as to how they came to be there, and what had become of the rest of the fleet which captured them.

The Castle of San Pedro was a strong fortress with high walls and towers—a gloomy-looking place, as gloomy as any spot in that land of sunshine can be, but gloomy undoubtedly it appeared to poor Edward and his companions, as, strongly guarded, they were conducted through its portals, not knowing when they might repass them and obtain their liberty. They were first conducted into the presence of the governor, a surly old don of the most immovable character; his face was like smoke-dried parchment, with beard of formal cut, and eyes so sunk that nothing could be seen but two small spots of jetty hue, overhung with grey shaggy eyebrows. Without the slightest expression of courtesy or commiseration, he at once commenced interrogating Edward in the Portugal tongue, ordering a yellow-skinned trembling clerk, who squatted at his side with a huge book before him, to write down his replies.

Edward answered succinctly to all the questions put to him, requesting that, as prisoners of war, he and his men might be treated with the courtesy usually awarded to persons in their position, by civilised nations, among whom the Portugals stood prominent.

“Call yourselves prisoners of war!” exclaimed Don Lobo, pulling his moustaches vehemently. “You are pirates—you and your countrymen—nothing better; and as such deserve to be thrown from the top of one of the towers of this castle, or dangled from one of the turrets by a rope, or shot, or drowned—any death is too good for you; burning at the stake as heretics—ay, vile heretics as you are—is most fit for you. See that such is not your lot.”

Edward made no reply to this address, feeling that such would only too probably exasperate the petty tyrant. Dick Lizard was, however, not so judicious. Having had a good deal of intercourse with the Portugals, he knew enough of their language to understand what was said; so, putting his left arm akimbo, and doubling his right fist, he exclaimed—

“Call us pirates! I’ll tell you what you and your dastardly crew are, Senhor Don Governor: you are a set of garlic-eating, oil-drinking sons of sea-cooks, who rob the weak when you can catch them, and run away from the strong like arrant knaves and cowards as you are. You are—”

What other complimentary remarks poor Dick might have uttered it is impossible to say; for as he was beginning his next sentence, a blow from the butt-end of an arquebuse laid him prostrate on the floor. Edward, afraid that his bold countryman had been killed, knelt down by his side. But Dick’s head was too hard to succumb to the strength of a Portugal’s arm, even when wielding a heavy weapon.

“All right, sir,” he said, opening his eyes. “I’ll be at them again, and give ’em more of my mind, and my fist too, if I can get at them.”

Edward, however, advised him under the circumstances to keep both one and the other to himself, and, as he did not feel disposed to be polite to his masters, to hold his tongue.

“Masters! Marry, masters, indeed!” cried Dick. “If you says they are masters, sir, I suppose they be; but they’ll find me a terrible obstinate servant to deal with, let me tell them.”

“No, don’t tell them, Lizard, that or any thing else,” said Edward soothingly. “You see that at all events we are in their power, and unless they let us go we may have some difficulty in escaping.”

“Not if we can get some planks to float on, sir,” whispered Lizard. “That notion of yours, sir, has brought me to sooner nor any thing. I thinks as how now, sir, I can keep a civil tongue in my head to those baboon-faced, sneaking, blackguard scoundrels.”

“Get up, then, man, and remember not to speak a word while I explain your sentiments,” said Edward, glad by any means to save his follower from ill treatment.

The Portugals, who fully believed that the blow must have inflicted a mortal injury on the man, fancied that his officer was receiving his last dying words, a message to his distant home, and did not interfere with him. Their surprise, therefore, was proportionately great when they saw him got up on his legs, give a hitch to his waistband, and, after sundry scratches and pulls at his shaggy locks, once more address the governor.

“An’ may it please your honour, Senhor Don Governor, I axes your reverence’s pardon for calling you and your people yellow-faced sons of sea-cooks (because as how to my mind your fathers and mothers were never any thing so respectable,” he added in a low tone). “Howsomdever, as your honour knows, I am but a rough seaman who’s followed his calling on the salt water all the days of his life, and will follow it, maybe, to the end, and therefore much manners can’t be expected; and so, Senhor Scarecrow, or whatever is your name, I hope you’ll not log down against my officer here or my shipmates any thing you’ve heard.”

Edward, as soon as he could put in a word, began to offer an interpretation of what had been said. It was not very literal, but interpreters are seldom exact in translation. He remarked that his follower had forgotten himself, that the blow had brought him to his senses, and that he now wished to render every apology in his power to one like Senhor Don Lobo, who so greatly merited his respect.

The old governor pulled away at his beard for some time, and twirled his moustaches, but was at length pacified sufficiently to order the prisoners to be carried off to the ward prepared for them.

Edward, determined to maintain a courteous demeanour in spite of the harshness with which he was treated, bowed to the governor as he was marched off between two guards, who seemed to think that the pugnacious Englishmen would by some means or other break away from them, and effect their escape. For that reason Dick Lizard had no less than six guards, one on each side, and two in front, and two behind; and certainly, as he rolled along with his sea cap stuck on the back of his head, his brawny arms bare, and his broad chest exposed, he appeared capable of successfully accomplishing any design he might conceive on his captors. The rest of the seamen imitated him with more or less effect, and were evidently customers of whom the Portugals stood greatly in awe.

The ward in which the English prisoners were placed was a room in a tower on a third floor overlooking the sea. It might have made a not unpleasant chamber if nicely fitted up, but as the only aperture to admit light and air was strongly barred, as the walls were of rough stone, the floor dirty, and heaps of not the cleanest straw were made to do duty for beds, the state of the case was very different. There were no chairs or tables; so that when the prisoners got tired of walking about they were obliged to betake themselves to their heaps of straw. Here day after day passed by. Edward, however, with the aid of Dick, who firmly believed in his power of escaping, kept up the spirits of the party by inducing them to tell their long and astounding yarns, and singing a variety of songs. Sometimes their guards came in to inquire why they were making so much noise, but they were not generally interfered with. Occasionally they received a visit from the surly old governor, when Edward, instead of asking for better quarters, as he might reasonably have done, treated him with the same respect as at first. Dick Lizard pretended to do the same; but as soon as the stately don had passed him the expression of his features and his gestures showed that his respect was not of an enduring quality. As the governor passed along the ward, Dick would imitate his strut and would give a stately bow, now on one side, now on the other, his countenance all the time in a broad grin. Even the warders and guards were amused by his antics, and for fear of putting a stop to them only gave way to their laughter when they saw that the governor was not looking towards them.

“All right, sir,” said Dick to Edward one day, after he had been indulging in more than his usual facetiousness, and the governor had taken his departure. “To my mind these Portugals care very little for their old don, or they wouldn’t laugh at him as they do; and it’s my belief that we shall be able to bribe them to let us slip out one of these fine nights without making any noise about it, and when the morning comes we shall be gone.”

Edward’s heart beat with joy at the thought, but after reflecting a little he answered, with a sigh—

“A bright idea, Dick, but I fear me much the wherewithal to bribe is sadly wanting. The rogues have left us little else but the clothes on our backs.”

The seaman gave a well-satisfied hitch to his waistband—a movement indicative of satisfaction or hesitation, as well as other emotions of the mind, among nautical characters in all ages—and observed—

“The dons are not quite as clever as they think, sir. They left us our clothes, but I and two more of us had lined them pretty thickly with good lots of yellow-boys, and there they are all safe. You know, sir, a seaman never knows what may happen, and to my mind it’s a wise custom among some of us. To be sure, if we comed to be cast away on a desolate island, all the gold in the world wouldn’t help a man to get off so much as a sharp axe and a chest of carpenter’s tools; but among people with manners and customs, though I can’t say much for either one or the other of those hereabouts, there’s nothing like gold!”

“True indeed, Lizard,” said Edward, partaking somewhat of the confidence of his follower, at the same time that he saw more clearly, probably, the difficulties in their way. He therefore entreated Dick and the rest to act with the greatest circumspection, and to appear to submit with perfect readiness to the rules and regulations of the place. The good effect of this conduct was apparent by the greater liberty which the prisoners obtained, and they were now allowed to take their exercise in the open air on the flat roof of part of the castle. Thence in a short time they were allowed to descend to a terrace overlooking the sea, where, however, they were watched by several lynx-eyed guards stationed above them.

It is seldom that those shores are visited by storms, but when the wind does blow it makes ample amends for its usual state of quiescence. In spite of a gale which had sprung up, Edward, with Dick Lizard and several of the other prisoners, was walking up and down on the said terrace, when Dick, whose eyes were of the sharpest, exclaimed that he saw a tall ship driving on before the gale, which set directly on the coast.

“Alas for the hapless crew!” exclaimed Edward. “I fear me they will all be lost!”

“Not a doubt about it, sir, unless some true-hearted seamen venture out to their rescue when the ship strikes, as strike she must before many hours are over.”

“Are you ready to go, Lizard?” asked Edward.

“An’ that I am, sir, and all the rest of us, I’ll warrant, if a boat can be found to swim in such a sea,” answered Dick.

“Then I’ll lead you, my brave lads!” said Edward warmly. “I’ll go seek the governor and get from him a boat fit for our purpose. Whoever they are, I could not bear to see our fellow-creatures perish without an effort to save them. But perhaps the Portugals themselves will be eager to go, and not thank us for making the offer.”

“Not a bit of it,” answered Dick sturdily. “I’ve seen brave Portugals, I’ll allow, but when they come out to this country all the good gets burnt out of them.”

Dick was not far from right. Edward got access to the governor, who at once inquired if any one was ready to volunteer to go to the rescue of the crew of the ship now closely approaching the land; but when it was understood that the English prisoners had offered to risk their lives in the undertaking, no one was found willing to deprive them of the honour.

A fine seaworthy boat was placed at Edward’s disposal, and at the head of his men, who were in the highest spirits, he walked out once more from prison.

Of what nation was the approaching ship was the question. To the honest tars and the brave gentlemen they followed it mattered nothing whether she was friend or foe. The Portugals had, however, discovered her to belong to their own people, and this, although it did not make them the more disposed to risk their own lives, induced them the more willingly to allow the English to do so to any extent they might see fit. Great was the eagerness they exhibited in bringing oars, and tholes, and boathooks, and ropes down to the boat, and still more, when the English had got into her, in launching her into deep water. This could not have been done on the open beach, on which the sea broke with terrific force, but she was hauled up on the shore of a natural harbour formed by two ledges of rocks rising a considerable height above the water. As the outer ends circled round and overlapped each other, the water inside the basin thus formed was comparatively smooth. Outside, however, the sea broke with terrific fury, threatening to overwhelm any boat or other floating machine which might get within its influence.

Some way to the north was another wide extending ledge of rocks, towards which it appeared that the unfortunate ship was drifting; but even should she escape that particular lodge and drive on the beach, the chance that any of those on board would escape was small indeed, for so high were the rollers and so powerful the reflux that once within their influence the stoutest ship could not hold together many minutes, and should any living beings washed towards the shore escape being dashed to pieces or killed by the broken planks and spars, they would be carried again out to sea and lost. Edward and Dick Lizard saw clearly this state of things, but they were not in consequence deterred from attempting to perform their errand of mercy. They also saw that if they would be successful there must be no delay. Each man having secured his oar with a rope, and himself to his seat by the same means, Edward gave the sign to the Portugals to shove off the boat. With loud shouts they placed their shoulders under her sides, and then, shrieking and grunting in concert, they almost lifted her along the sand till she floated, when the English prisoners bringing their oars into play shoved her off into the middle of the basin. Dick Lizard took the helm, while Edward stood up to judge of the best moment for crossing through the breakers. The crew went, steadily to their work. No one was ignorant of the danger to be gone through. At the entrance of the little harbour a white wall of water rose up before them, curling round and topped with masses of glittering foam, which fell in dense showers, blown by the gale over them, tending to blind and bewilder even the most experienced seaman of the party. Edward was at first in despair of finding a channel through which the boat could by any possibility pass and live. Some of the Portugals had, however, assured him that at times between the intervals of the heavier seas he would be able to get through, and he resolved to persevere if his men were ready to do so.

“Ready, ay, ready, every one of us, Master Raymond,” answered Dick Lizard, after the briefest of consultations with his comrades. “Where’s the odds? We can but die once, whether with a Portugal’s bullet through us, or by thevomito prèitoor under yonder foaming seas—what matters it? An’ you wish to go, we, to a man, will go too.”

“Thanks, my brave lads; and now, when I order you to give way, give way you must, or be ready to back water at the word,” exclaimed Edward, standing up in the stern-sheets of the boat so as to command a view over the mass of seething, raging, roaring water which rose before him. Sea after sea rolled in, and with a voice of thunder broke on the rocks with a force sufficient, it seemed, to dash them to fragments; but, placed there by the hand of Omnipotence to curb the fury of the wild ocean, the proud waters were hurled back upon themselves again and again, unable to gain a foot on their fixed confines, shattered into minute atoms of foam which the wind bore far away on its fleet wings, while the iron rocks remained fixed as of old, laughing to scorn their reiterated attacks.

The ship meantime was approaching nearer and nearer to the shore. Had she been drifting directly on it, she would by that time have been cast helpless on the stern rocks, but happily part of her foremast was still standing, on which a sail being set, her course was somewhat diagonal, and she was therefore longer in reaching her impending fate than had at first appeared likely to be the case. Now she rose on the summit of a foaming sea, now she sank into the hollow, seemingly as if never to appear again; but bravely she struggled on, like a being endued with life, resolved to battle to the last, yet knowing that destruction was inevitable. Edward observed that although at first there appeared to be no difference in the height of the rollers, yet that after a time several of less apparent strength came tumbling in unbroken till they actually touched the rocks, leaving a narrow yet clear space between them. Through this space he determined to urge his boat. He pulled down to the very mouth of the harbour; the crew lay on their oars. A huge sea came roaring on majestically, and breaking into foam almost overwhelmed the boat. Directly afterwards the clear channel appeared.

“Give way, give way, brave lads!” shouted Edward.

The boat sprang on. Immediate destruction or success awaited them. The blades of the oars were concealed amid the seething waters on either side, and the foam came bubbling up over the gunwales, but the boat still held her course outward. She rose towards the summit of a lofty sea; the men strained every nerve. Up she climbed; then downward she slid rapidly to meet another sea, up which she worked her way as before. Another and another appeared in rapid succession; she surmounted them all, and the open ocean was gained.

Having gained a sufficient distance from the land, they had to keep along shore with the sea stream—a dangerous position, as, should the boat be caught by a roller, she would most certainly be turned over and over till she was dashed in fragments on the beach. On they came to the ship, plunging through the seas, and appearing as if every instant would be her last, even before she could reach the fatal strand. As they drew near they could distinguish the people on board in various attitudes indicative of despair. There were many hapless beings—sailors, soldiers, civilians, and women and children, some infants in arms, all full of life, and yet, ere many fleeting minutes could pass away, to be numbered with the dead. One last desperate effort was, it was seen, now made by the crew of the ship to save their lives. Two anchors were let go, the cables flying out like lightning from the bows, while at the same moment gleaming axes cut away the remaining part of the foremast, which plunged free of the ship into the sea. It was a well-executed, seamanlike manoeuvre. The stout ship was brought up, and although she plunged with her lofty bow almost under the seas, it seemed that her anchors were about to hold her. Hope revived in the breasts of those on board. Edward and his brave companions pulled alongside; ropes were hove to them, and they maintained the position they had gained, although in the greatest possible peril of being swamped. To climb up to the deck of the ship was almost impossible, but Raymond shouted out that he was ready to convey as many of the passengers to the shore as were willing to trust themselves to his charge. Many of those who but a short time before had given way to despair were now unwilling to leave the stout ship which still floated under them for a small open boat. Some who had less confidence in the power of the anchors to hold the ship, hurried to the side, and showed by their gestures that they wished to enter the boat. Without assistance, however, to make the attempt were madness, and the Portugal seamen exhibited no intention of helping them.

“I’ll do it, Master Raymond,” cried Dick Lizard, seizing a rope which hung over the side, and with a nimbleness which alone prevented him from being crushed between the boat and the ship he climbed up over her bulwarks. Two seamen followed his example.

Several more persons came crowding to the side of the vessel on seeing the hardihood of the British seamen in venturing to their assistance. Dick seized the person he found nearest to him as he leaped on deck. It was a young girl. She was clasping the arm of a grey-headed, tall old man, who seemed to be her father.

“No time for ceremony, fair lady,” cried Dick; “bless your sweet face, I’ll make all square when we gets you safe on shore; just now, do you see, you mustn’t mind a little rough handling. There! there! let go the old gentleman’s fist; we’ll lower him after you, never fear. Hold on taut by the rope, as you love me. A drop of tar won’t hurt your pretty hands. There! there! away you go! Look out below there! Gingerly, lads, lower away. Now, old gentleman, you follows your daughter, I suppose?”

These exclamations were all uttered while Dick and his companions were securing a rope round the young lady’s waist, and lowering her into the boat. She gazed upward at her father with a look of affection as she felt herself hanging over the raging ocean while the boat seemed receding from her. A loud shriek of terror escaped her. Dick waited till the boat had again risen, and just as it was about to descend into the trough, he let the young girl drop into the arms of Raymond, who stood ready to receive her, and with a sharp knife cut the rope above her head, not waiting to cast it loose. The next comer was, as Dick promised, the old gentleman, who, even less able to help himself than the young lady, was treated much in the same way.

A young mother with her child, whom with one arm she clutched convulsively to her bosom, while with the other with a parent’s loving instinct she endeavoured to prevent the infant from being dashed against the ship’s side, was next lowered. Not a sound did she utter. Once the ship, gave an unexpected roll, and she was thrown rudely against the side, but she only clasped her infant the tighter, and heeded not the cruel blows she was receiving. Barely could Edward with all his strength secure her and free her from the rope before the boat was dashed off to a distance from the ship. Again, however, the boat was hauled up alongside. Lizard had now slung two little boys together. Though pale with terror, they bravely encouraged each other as they hung over the foaming ocean till the position of the boat enabled them to be lowered into her.

Their father stood on the bulwarks watching them with all a father’s affection, he himself wishing to follow immediately, but being prohibited from making the attempt till some more women and children had been lowered. Lizard and his companions laboured on unceasingly, for none of the Portugal’s crew would render them any assistance. Several other people were thus conveyed to the boat, but many who seemed at first inclined to leave the ship lost courage as they saw the hazard of the undertaking. Some, again, as they gazed towards the foam-covered shore, and heard the roar of the seas as they dashed on the wild rocks, or rolled up on the shingly beach, showed that they would rather trust their safety to the boat than to the labouring ship. Among them was a young man who pushed forward requesting to be lowered.

“No, no, senhor don,” said Lizard. “Do ye see that there are more women and children to go first? We must look after the weaker ones, who can’t help themselves. That’s the rule we rovers of the ocean stick to.”

The young man, either not comprehending him, or so eager to escape as to forget all other considerations, sprang up on the bulwarks, and, seizing a rope, attempted to lower himself without assistance. Miscalculating the time, he descended rapidly; the ship gave a sudden lurch, the boat swung off, and the foaming sea surging up tore him from the rope, and with a fearful cry of despair he sank for ever. He was the first victim claimed by the ocean. His fate deterred others from making a like attempt.

“Come, senhor,” said Lizard to the father of the little boys, “if you wish to go with us it’s fair you should, seeing that others are thinking about the matter instead of acting. You just trust to me, and I’ll land you safely.”

Comprehending what Lizard meant by his gestures, rather than by his words, he submitted himself to his guidance, and was placed by the side of his boys. At that instant a cry arose on board the ship that the anchors were dragging. Lizard soon saw that the report was too true. Now numbers were eager to jump into the boat. She might have carried three more persons, but in the attempt to receive them scores might have leaped in, and the boat would have been swamped. Dick and his companions had no fancy to be wrecked with the ship; so, seizing ropes, they swung themselves into the boat. The next moment the rope which held the boat was cut, and she floated clear of the ship. The oars were got out and hastily plied by the sturdy seamen. Good reason had they to exert all their strength, for the ship, while dragging her anchors, had already carried them fearfully near the roaring line of breakers among which she herself was about to be engulfed. With horror those who had been rescued contemplated the impending fate of their late companions. Slowly the boat worked her way out to sea, while the ship, with far greater rapidity, drove towards the shore. Now the wind, which appeared for an instant to have lulled, breezed up again. Hardly could the boat hold her own. Edward and Lizard had to keep their eyes seaward to watch the waves in order to steer their boat amid their foaming crests. The hapless people on board too well knew what must be their own fate. In vain they shrieked for help; in vain they held out their arms; vain, truly, was the help of man. A furious blast swept over the ocean. A mass of foam broke over the boat. Raymond believed that she could not rise to the coming sea, but, buoyantly as before, she climbed up its watery side, struggling bravely. As she reached its summit a cry escaped the rowers—“The anchors have parted! Good God! the anchors have parted!”

In an instant more the raging seas, foaming and hissing, broke over the stout ship, ingulfing in their eager embrace many of those who were till then standing on the deck full of life and strength. Still the waters seemed to cry out for more. Each time they rushed up more and more were torn from their hold. Some strong swimmers struggled for a few moments amid the boiling surges for dear life, but the shrieks of most of them were speedily silenced in death. The stout ship, too, stout as she was, quickly yielded to the fury of the breakers. The high poop was torn away as if made of thin pasteboard; the wide forecastle, with the remainder of the crew still clinging to it, was carried off and speedily dashed to fragments; the stout hull next, with a wild crash, was rent asunder, and huge timbers, and beams, and planks were dashed to and fro amid the foaming billows, speedily silencing the agonised shrieks of those who yet hoped—though hoped in vain—to reach the land where hundreds upon hundreds of their fellow-creatures stood bewailing their fate, but unable to render them assistance. But a few minutes had passed by since the tall ship had struck on those cruel rocks, and now her shattered fragments strewed the ocean, some carried back by the receding waves, others cast, torn and splintered, on the beach with tangled masses of ropes, and spars, and seaweed. Here and there a human form, mangled, pallid, and lifeless, could be discerned, surrounded by the remnants of the wreck, now approaching, now again dashed off suddenly from the shore; now an arm might be seen lifted up as if imploringly for help; now the head, now the very lips, might be seen to move, but it was but the dead mocking at the living. No sound escaped those lips; for ever they were to be silent. Most of those thus momentarily seen were swept off again to become the prey of the ravenous monsters of the deep. A few of the poor remnants of frail mortality were cast up and left upon the shore, whence they were carried up by the pitying hands of charity to be interred in their mother earth, but by far the greater number were among those who shall rest in their ocean graves till the time arrives when the sea shall give up her dead, and all, from every land and every clime throughout all ages since the world was peopled, shall meet together for judgment.

Chapter Six.“How fares it with the good ship, Dick?” asked Edward, fearing for one moment to withdraw his eyes from off his arduous task of steering the boat amid the raging seas.The answer came not from the British seaman, but from one of the passengers taken from the ship:—“Mother of Heaven! they are lost—all lost!”The words, uttered by the young lady who had been the first received into the boat, were followed by a heart-rending shriek as she sank fainting into the arms of her father. Many of those who had been saved had relatives, all had friends and acquaintances, on board the ship. Some others cried out and expressed their horror or regret, but the greater number looked on with stolid indifference, satisfied that they had themselves escaped immediate destruction, or absorbed in the selfish contemplation of their own pending fate. It seemed even now scarcely possible that the boat, heavily laden as she was, could escape being swamped. Humanly speaking, her safety depended on the bone and muscle and perseverance of her crew. None but true British seamen could have held out as they did. Many hours had elapsed since the ship was first seen; night was approaching, and the sea still ran so high that it would be next to madness to attempt re-entering the little harbour—a task far more difficult than getting out of it, as the slightest deviation to the right or left would have caused the instant destruction of the boat and of all on board her. There was nothing, therefore, but to continue at sea. There was no other harbour for many miles either to the north or south which they could hope to reach within many days.“An’ we had but provender aboard, Master Raymond, we might give the Portugals the slip, and never let them see our handsome faces again,” observed Dick, after keeping silence for a considerable time.“True, Dick,” answered Edward, and hope rose in his heart at the bare mention of escaping; but with a sigh he added, “First, though, we have no provender, and had we, in duty we are bound to land these poor people as soon as we can with safety venture so to do. Already they are almost worn out, and a few hours more of exposure may destroy their lives, which we have undergone this peril to preserve. Then, again, the Portugals allowed us to take the boat on the faith that we were to return. Duty is duty, Dick; the temptations to neglect it do not alter its nature, whatever the old tempter Satan may say to the contrary. Let us stick to duty and never mind the consequences.”“That’s all true, no doubt, Master Raymond, what you say,” replied Lizard. “But it would be hard, if there was a chance of getting away, to go back to prison. Liberty is sweet, especially to seamen.”“Duty is duty, Dick,” repeated Raymond. “What is right is the right thing to do ever since the world began. Maybe the gale will go down, and by dawn we may land these poor people without danger. It will be a happy thing to us to have saved them; and, to my mind, even our prison will be less dreary from having done it.”All hands were soon brought round to their officer’s opinion. The sun was now setting, and darkness in that latitude comes on immediately afterwards. Their prospect was therefore dreary and trying in the extreme. It was difficult to keep the boat free from water in the day; still more difficult would it be while night shrouded the ocean with her sombre mantle. Hunger, too, was assailing the insides of the crew; but, still undaunted, they prepared to combat with all their difficulties. Rest they must not expect; their safety depended on their pulling away without ceasing at the oars. Pull they did right manfully. Now one broke into a song; now another cheered the hearts of his companions with a stave, which he trolled forth at the top of his voice. The example was infectious, and in spite of hunger and fatigue, jokes and laughter and songs succeeded each other in rapid succession. The jokes were none of the most refined, nor were the songs replete with wisdom; but the laughter, at all events, was loud and hearty; above all things, it had the effect of raising the drooping spirits of the poor beings who had been confided to them by Providence.As they sang, and joked, and rowed, the sea began to go down, and thus, as their strength decreased, the necessity of exerting it became less; still they were compelled to pull on to keep the boat off the land and her head to the sea. At length the singers’ voices grew lower and lower, and the jokers ceased their jokes, and the heads of some as they rowed dropped on their bosoms for an instant, but were speedily raised again with a jerk and a shake as they strove to arouse their faculties. Edward had need of all his energies to keep himself to his task, and he told Dick to warn him should he show any signs of drowsiness.The hours as the morning approached appeared doubly long. The dawn came at last, and then the sun in a blaze of glory shot upward through the sky and cast his burning rays across the waters upon the boat, with her living but almost exhausted freight yet struggling bravely. The wind had fallen. There was a perfect calm, but yet the billows rolled on, moved, it seemed, by some mysterious power unseen to human eye—not, as before, broken and foaming, but in long, smooth, glassy rollers. Smooth as they were, they would have proved fatally treacherous to the boat had Raymond ventured to land. As they approached the beach they gained strength and height, and then broke with tremendous fury on the smooth sand or rugged rocks, as if indignant at being stayed in their course. Again and again Edward and his companions gazed wistfully at the coast. That formidable line of breakers still prohibited approach. He and his companions had before been suffering from hunger. As the sun rose higher and became hotter and hotter, thirst assailed them—thirst more terrible and more fatal than hunger. The poor passengers suffered most; it seemed as if they had escaped a speedy death on the previous day, to suffer one more painful and lingering. Raymond had been unable till now to pay them much attention personally, leaving them to assist each other as best they could. He was now attracted by the affectionate manner in which the young lady who had been at first saved tended her aged father, and at length, when he could with safety leave the helm, on stooping down to aid her, he recognised in her features, careworn as they were, those of Donna Isabel d’Almeida. He addressed her by name.“What! then our gallant deliverer is the Englishman Don Edoardo, the friend of Don Antonio!” she exclaimed. “Father, father, we are safe among friends; they will surely take us to the shore when they can. I perceived the likeness from the first, but, overcome with terror and confusion, I could not assure myself of the fact. You will forgive me, Don Edoardo.”“Indeed, fair lady, I have nothing to forgive,” said Edward. “I rejoice to have been the means of thus far preserving one for whom I have so high an esteem from a dreadful fate. I cannot but believe that Providence, which has saved us thus far, will enable us yet to reach the shore in safety.”“Heaven and all the saints grant that we may! and under your guidance I have no fear,” answered Donna Isabel. “But, Don Edoardo—”The young lady stopped and hesitated, and then continued in a faint voice—“There was another brave officer of your ship I would ask after—Don Antonio. I could never pronounce his family name. How is it that he is not with you?”This question very naturally led Edward to describe the battle, and how he had been taken prisoner and brought to Goa, and thence transferred to the safe keeping of Don Lobo, and how he and his companions had been treated, and how they had been enabled to come off to the assistance of the ship in consequence of the cowardice of her countrymen, who were glad to get others to do the work which they were afraid to attempt.This account was listened to with interest by the rest of the passengers, who all exclaimed against the cruelty and injustice of Don Lobo, and promised, should they be preserved, to use their influence in obtaining the liberty of the brave Englishmen.“See, Dick, did I not say right when I told thee that we should do our duty, and leave the consequences to Providence?” Raymond could not help remarking to Lizard. “We shall now have many friends about us on shore, and some of them will get us set free, depend on that.”“I hope you are right, Master Raymond; but to my mind the Portugal chaps haven’t much gratitude in their nature, and out of sight with them is out of mind,” was Dick’s reply.As the day drew on, the anxiety of all in the boat to reach the land increased; indeed, it was very evident that without water several would be unable to exist through another night. Accordingly, about four hours after noon, as was guessed by the height of the sun, Raymond announced his intention of making the attempt to run into the harbour. He had carefully noted the bearings of the marks at the entrance on coming out, so that he was able to steer a direct course for the spot. The long swells still rolled in, and broke along the coast in sheets of foam, and all he hoped to find were a few yards of green water through which he might steer his boat. The belief that their toils were to come to an end roused up even the most exhausted of the crew. On glided the boat. Now those on board looked down on the shore full in view before them—now a smooth green wall of water rose up and shut it from their sight. Even the bravest held their breath as they approached the rocks, and the loud roar of the breakers sounded in their ears. Edward and Lizard stood up, grasping the tiller between them. There was no going back now. Had they allowed the boat to come broadside to one of those watery heights she would instantly have been rolled over and over, and cast helpless on the rocks. Many a silent prayer was offered up that such a fate might be averted. Nearer and nearer the boat approached the rocks. “Back water—back water, lads!” cried Raymond, and a huge roller lifted the boat high above the shore, but failed to carry her forward. It broke with a thundering roar into sheets of foam, and then opened before them a smooth channel. “Pull—pull for your lives, lads!” cried Edward. The seamen obeyed with a will. The boat shot on, and, amid showers of spray on either hand ere a breath could be completely drawn, she was gliding forward, all dangers passed, towards the beach, where hundreds of persons, Portugals and natives, stood ready to receive them. The boat was hauled up on the beach, and, this task accomplished, even Edward and Lizard sank down, unable to support themselves. They and their companions were carried up to the castle, and, although somewhat better chambers were provided for them, they found themselves still prisoners, and strictly guarded.“I told you so, Master Raymond—I told you so!” exclaimed Dick. “There’s no gratitude in these Portugals.”However, after the lapse of a few days their condition was altered very much for the better, and provisions and luxuries of various sorts were sent in as presents from those who had heard of their brave exploit. Raymond also received visits from Don Joao d’Almeida, as also from various other persons of influence. He was himself allowed rather more liberty than before, and was even permitted to ride out in a morning with an escort, in company with some of the officers of the fort, and to enter into such society as the place afforded. He thus constantly met the young Donna Isabel, whom he could not help regarding with interest. At the same time, whatever might have been his private opinion regarding the attractions of that fair lady, even had they been far greater than he esteemed them, he would not have allowed himself to be influenced by them; first because there was one in his far-off home to whom his troth was plighted, and secondly because he fancied that her affections were fixed on Waymouth, and though he devoutly hoped that his friend would never marry her, yet he considered that as a messmate and a friend he was not the person to stand between them. These were the very reasons which suggested themselves to his mind as an excuse, as it were, for not following the rules of all romances, and falling desperately in love with the young lady whom he had been the means of preserving from a dreadful death.It is possible that even had Edward not been influenced by these two reasons for not falling in love, as the phrase goes, with Donna Isabel, he might have found others—indeed, that she was a Romanist and of a different nation would have had great power with him alone—but it is not necessary to enter into them; the fact remains, he did not in the slightest degree set his affections on her. He, however, believing firmly that she was in love with Waymouth, and having a true and honest heart himself, placing full confidence in the constancy of woman, undoubtedly paid her great attention—such courteous attention as a brother would pay a sister, or an honest man his friend’s wife, certainly thinking no evil, or that evil could arise therefrom.Now it happened that Don Lobo, the governor of the Castle of San Pedro and its dependencies, was a bachelor, and, although a surly, cruel, and morose fellow, had a heart susceptible of the tender passion, or rather of what he fancied was the tender passion, for it would be difficult to suppose any thing tender connected with him. It had been very long since he had seen anybody so young and so beautiful as Donna Isabel, and no sooner did he set eyes on her after she had recovered from the effects of her voyage and exposure in the open boat than he began to be unusually agitated, nor could he rest night or day for thinking of her. His siestas in his hammock at noon, with slaves fanning his face, brought him no rest, nor was it afforded by his couch at night. He resolved to make Donna Isabel his wife. He did all he could to exhibit his feelings towards her; but, powerful as they might have been, and although she might have discovered what they were, she certainly did not return them.Notwithstanding this, matters went on smoothly enough for some time. Don Lobo was not a despairing lover, and he knew enough of the female sex to be aware that their feelings are not altogether immutable, even if they change only by slow degrees. Donna Isabel’s sentiments might alter, and he might reach a high point in her favour. Time, however, passed on as it has done ever since the world began, and no such change as the governor anticipated took place; on the contrary, as the young lady’s eyes were more and more opened to the true state of the case, so did her dislike to the don the more and more increase. Indeed, whenever she looked at him, or thought about him, or heard him spoken of, it was with a feeling rather akin to disgust than to devotion. She did not, nevertheless, exhibit these uncomplimentary sentiments as forcibly as under other circumstances she might have done. She and her father were, in the first place, guests of Don Lobo, and dependent on him. Poor Don Joao had also lost all his property in the ship, and, it having been supposed that he was lost, another person had been appointed to his proposed government, and he had to wait till he could receive a fresh appointment from home. Don Lobo was also rich, and had pressed money on Don Joao, which he had accepted, and had thus become still more indebted to him. All these circumstances would have made it very impolitic in Donna Isabel to exhibit her real sentiments, which she was thus in part compelled to disguise, though she could not do so altogether; nor did she afford the slightest encouragement to her unattractive admirer. At first the surly don was very indifferent to this state of things.“She’ll yield—she’ll yield before long to my powerful persuasions and personal attractions,” he observed to his confidant and factotum, Pedro Pacheco, a worthy always ready to do his master’s behests, whatever they might be. “I’ll put on my new doublet and hose, and my jewel-hilted sword, and I’ll attack her again this day manfully.”“Certainly, most certainly, Senhor Don Lobo. A man of your excellency’s superlative qualities, no female heart, however hard, can possibly long withstand,” observed Pedro.“I knew that would be your opinion, my faithful Pedro,” said the governor—the fact being that the faithful Pedro always did agree with his patron, not troubling himself to decide whether he thought him right or wrong. In this instance both were wrong.The governor, to the surprise of the garrison, who had been always accustomed to see him wearing a greasy old doublet and a rusty-hilted sword, made his appearance in a richly ornamented suit, which, though somewhat fusty from having been long shut up, had the advantage of being costly.He was received, however, as usual by Donna Isabel, who, though she could not help remarking that he wore a handsomer dress than usual, said nothing whatever which might lead him to suppose that she saw in him the least improvement. He tried to talk, but in vain; not a word of sense could he produce. Then he tried to look unutterable things, but he only grinned and squinted horribly, till he frightened the young lady out of her senses, and made her suppose that he was thoroughly bent on going into a fit. Although he did not suspect the cause, he had the wit to discover that he had not made a favourable impression, and returned to his quarters disappointed and not a little angry with his ill success. Pedro Pacheco could only advise him to try again. He might have acted a more friendly part if he had said “Give it up.” Don Lobo did try again, and with the like ill success.“Persevere,” said Pedro.The governor did persevere day after day, and at length, in spite of the entire absence of all encouragement, declared his passion. Donna Isabel frankly told him that she did not love him, and did not believe that she ever should. She might have said she did not think she ever could. He said nothing, but made his bow and exit. He told Pedro Pacheco of his ill fortune.“Then she loves another!” observed Pedro.“Who can he be?” exclaimed the governor in a fierce voice.“Where have your excellency’s eyes been of late?” asked the confidant quietly.“What!” cried Don Lobo, giving a furious pull at his beard, “that Englishman?”“The same,” said Pedro Pacheco, nodding his head.“Then I will take good care he no longer interferes with me,” said the don in a savage tone.“Of course it would be unwise not to exert your authority when you have him in your power,” said Pedro. “Better put him out of the way altogether.”“He has friends—I must have an excuse,” said the governor.“He has been plotting or will be plotting to make his escape,” observed Pedro. “To effect this he would not scruple to murder all in the castle. He and his companions have shown what daring rogues they are by going out to the rescue of Donna Isabel and the rest when none of our heroic countrymen would attempt the exploit. Ah, those English are terrible fellows!”“Proof must be brought to me of their abominable intentions, and then we shall have this officer and his men in our poorer,” observed the governor savagely.“Proof, your excellency! there will be no want of that, considering that our garrison consists of the very scum of the streets of Lisbon,” answered the confidant. “Why, we have men here who for a peço have sworn away the lives of their most intimate acquaintances. Of course, in so admirable a cause they would have no scruple in swearing whatever we may dictate, even should it not be absolutely correct.”“What you may dictate, honest Pacheco, not we, understand,” said the governor. “They may bungle when brought into court as witnesses, and though under ordinary circumstances that would not matter, some of these shipwrecked persons are likely to be favourable to them, and might report unfavourably of me if matters did not go smoothly. As to the means I am indifferent when so important a result is to be attained.”“Ah, most noble governor, I understand all about your wishes in the matter, and will take care that the affair is carried out in a satisfactory way,” answered the honest Pedro, making his master an obsequious bow as he left the room.Don Lobo clinched his fist, and, grinding his teeth, struck out as if he had got his prisoner’s face directly in front of him. The performance of this act seemed to afford him infinite satisfaction, for he walked up and down the room with a grin which might in courtesy have been called a smile on his countenance for some time till his legs grew weary of the exercise.Not long after this, Edward was one evening pacing the terrace facing the sea, casting many a longing glance over the glass-like water of the ocean, on which the rays of the setting sun had spread a sheet of golden hue, and he was considering by what means he could possibly with his companions make his escape, when rough hands were laid on his shoulders and he found his arms suddenly pinioned from behind. His first impulse was to endeavour to shake them off, and having by a violent effort done so, his next was to double his fists and to strike at them right and left, knocking two of them down at the instant in a true British fashion. At that instant, Dick Lizard, coming on the terrace and seeing his officer assailed, rushed forward to his assistance, and quickly sent two more Portugals tumbling head over heels right and left of him.“To the rescue! to the rescue!” he shouted out, and his voice quickly collected all the English prisoners who were within hearing. Of course more Portugals hurried up to the spot, who at once joined in the fray. Swords and daggers were drawn, which the Englishmen quickly wrenched from the hands of their assailants, though not till several of the prisoners had been wounded; and now the clash of steel was heard and fire-arms were discharged, and the skirmish became general. In the midst of it Pedro Pacheco rushed out of his quarters, crying out—“Treason! treason! the English are rising and murdering every one of us,” and at the same moment he levelled a pistol at Raymond’s head. The bullet would probably have, ended the life of the gallant adventurer had not Dick Lizard struck up the Portugal’s arm, for he had no time in the first instance to do more, but a second blow from his fist sent Senhor Pedro sprawling on the ground among several others of his party who had been placed in the same horizontal position by the sturdy Englishmen.In spite of the superior numbers of the Portugals, the fate of so many of their party made the rest unwilling to close with the prisoners, who, not knowing what was intended, stood boldly at bay, resolved to sell their lives dearly, Dick Lizard singing out—“Come on—come on, ye varlets! we don’t fear ye. One Spaniard lick two Portugee, one Englishman lick all three!”This state of things could not, however, last long. Trumpets were sounding, drums were beating, and soldiers from all quarters were collecting, who now with Don Lobo at their head surrounded the Englishmen. At the command of the governor they were levelling their matchlocks (fortunately the matter of discharging them was not a speedy operation), when Don Joao d’Almeida and his daughter Donna Isabel made their appearance on the scene with most of those who had been preserved from the wreck.“Hold, hold, countrymen!” cried Don Joao. “What! are you about to slaughter those who so gallantly risked their lives to save ours? Hold, I say; I am sure that you, Don Edoardo, have done nothing intentionally to deserve this treatment.”Donna Isabel joined her entreaties with those of her father.“Certainly I have no wish to break the peace,” answered Raymond. “The arms we hold were taken from those who assailed us, and we are ready to lay them down instantly at the command of the governor, in whose lawful custody we consider ourselves.”Thus appealed to, Don Lobo could not, without outraging all law, order the destruction of his prisoners. Those who had possessed themselves of weapons put them down, when they were immediately seized each by not less than six Portugals, and marched off to the cells in which they had at first been confined.“I must inquire into the cause of this outbreak, when punishment will be awarded to the guilty,” said Don Lobo, as he stalked back to his quarters.The unpleasant look which the governor cast on him made Edward feel that evil was intended. His suspicions were speedily confirmed, for instead of being taken to the chamber he had lately occupied, he was marched off to the prison in which he and his companions had at first been confined, and was thrust alone into a dark, close, foul dungeon, at a distance, he feared, from Lizard and his other men. He knew nothing of the jealous feelings which had sprung up in the bosom of Don Lobo, or his apprehensions would naturally have been greatly increased. The air of the dungeon was noxious and oppressive, and he had not been in it many hours before he began to feel its ill effects.“A week or two in such a hole as this will bring my days to a close,” he said to himself as he surveyed, as far as the obscurity would allow, the narrow confines of his prison-house. “Alas! alas! my adventure has turned out ill indeed. My own Beatrice, for thy sake I left my native land, and thou wilt have, ere long, to mourn me dead. For thy sake, sweet girl, I pray that I may escape.”In this strain he soliloquised for some time, as people in his circumstances are apt to do, and then he set to work to consider how, by his own exertions, he might be able to get free. He was fain to confess, that, unaided, he had not the slightest chance of escape. Of one thing, however, he was certain—that Dick Lizard would not rest day or night till he had made an attempt to help him. And he knew that Dick, with all a sailor’s bluntness and thoughtlessness, had a considerable amount of ready wit, and of caution too, where it was necessary for the accomplishment of an important object. Edward hoped also that his friends would prove true, and exert themselves in his favour.All this time Don Lobo had resolved on his destruction, and only waited the best opportunity of accomplishing it. Knowing the character of the dungeon in which his prisoner was confined, he believed that he should have very little trouble about the matter. Edward’s constitution was, however, very sound, and though he certainly suffered in health, he did not break down altogether, as the governor expected would be the case. Don Lobo, therefore, announced publicly that he intended to bring the prisoners engaged in the late outbreak to a trial. This every one knew well would result in their being shot. Day after day passed by. Edward found his imprisonment more and more irksome, while he had not yet succeeded in communicating with Lizard, nor could he ascertain even where the honest fellow was shut up. His jailers were only conversable when they had any disagreeable news to communicate, and it is extraordinary how loquacious they became when the day of his trial was fixed, and the opinion as to his fate was formed. They seemed to take especial delight in taunting him and in annoying him in every way.“Ah, senhor, many an honest man has been hung before now, and many a rogue, and neither seems to think it a pleasant operation,” remarked one of the fellows, imitating the contortions of countenance of a strangled person.“To which class does the noble senhor belong, I wonder?” said another.“Maybe to the last, if he will pardon me saying so,” observed a third with a grin.“But, ah me! rogue or honest, there will be some fair ladies mourning for him in more ports than one,” cried another, who was considered the wit of the gang. “Permit me, senhor, to convey your last dying message to some or all of them. Maybe in your own land there is some fair young dame from whom you would not willingly be parted, eh? I thought that I should hit the right nail on the head.”“Peace—peace, men!” exclaimed Edward. “For your own sakes, lest you should ever be in a like condition, allow me to be alone.”His appeal, made with dignity and calmness, had more effect than he expected, and the men shrank back, for a time, at least, abashed. Their last remarks did not, however, affect his feelings as might have been supposed, the fact being that his Beatrice was never out of his thoughts, and night and day his prayers had been for blessings on her head.The day of the Englishmen’s trial approached. Of the result there could not be a shadow of doubt. Numerous witnesses were able to prove that they had been found in open insurrection with arms in their hands, while there was no one to speak in their favour. Any thing, also, like justice was unknown in the land. Still, Don Lobo, having resolved to get rid of his supposed rival, wished to give as great an air of formality and legality to his proceedings as he possibly could.Edward, from all he could ascertain, felt convinced that he had not many days to live. The night before his trial arrived he had thrown himself on the heap of straw which served as his bed by night and his only seat by day, that he might obtain some repose, the better to go through his ordeal on the morrow, when he heard his prison-door open gently, without the usual creaking noise which announced the appearance of his jailers, and a bright light streamed on his closed eyes. He fancied that he must be dreaming, till he unclosed them and discovered that the light was held by a being habited in a white robe, beautiful in appearance, whether celestial or human he could not at first decide. If the latter, she was young and of the fair sex. He looked again. Yes—Donna Isabel d’Almeida stood before him. She put her finger to her lips to impose silence, and kneeling down by his side whispered for some time into his ears. She then produced a couple of files and other instruments for forcing off shackles, which she and the prisoner plied so assiduously that scarcely half an hour had passed before he stood up free from his chains.“Take off your shoes and put on these woollen slippers, and follow me, senhor,” whispered Donna Isabel. “The guards are asleep, and if no noise is made we need not fear being stopped.”Edward could scarcely believe his senses, and fancied that he must be asleep, but still he wisely did as he was bid. He, however, felt scarcely able to walk after being shut up for so long in that pestiferous dungeon. Donna Isabel, shrouding part of the lantern, glided towards the door, which opening noiselessly she passed out, he following. She led the way up a narrow, dark, winding staircase. It had not many steps, and Edward, to his surprise, found himself pacing a long passage, the end of which he could not distinguish. He had never before been in that part of the fort. Not a sound was heard, nor did his own nor his guide’s footfall make the slightest noise. He conjectured that the guard had just before made the rounds, and that the warders had settled themselves into their nooks and corners and gone to sleep. Donna Isabel seemed to have perfect confidence that all was right, though he could not help expecting every instant to come on one of these nooks, and to find a warder prepared to dispute their onward progress.He had been aware that his dungeon was at a considerable depth, but, judging from the number of steps he had to ascend, he found that it was even deeper down than he had supposed. The gallery was low and arched—hewn out of the rock it appeared, or built of rough stones, though, as may be supposed, he made no very exact observations as he hurried on. Suddenly Donna Isabel stopped, and taking his arm led him round a corner into another corridor or gallery. It was a side passage, or, probably, rather a passage which had been commenced but not finished. Covering up her lantern, they were in total darkness. Edward had, however, time to ascertain that they were behind a buttress or projecting part of the wall, which would conceal them partially from any one passing along the main gallery they had quitted. Donna Isabel had not sought the place of concealment a moment too soon, for scarcely was the light shrouded than footsteps were heard and a glare of light appeared. The light proceeded from a couple of torches held by two men, and directly behind them stalked no less a person than the governor himself, followed closely by Pedro Pacheco. The glare penetrated to the recess in which the fugitives stood, and Edward expected every moment to be discovered by Don Lobo. The don was, however, near-sighted, or so occupied in earnest conversation, that he did not turn his eyes in that direction. Edward could hear his companion’s heart beat. Discovery would have been destruction to both of them probably—to him certainly. The governor, also—as was his habit—walked along with his eyes on the ground, but those of the worthy Pedro had the custom of continually casting furtive glances here and there, as if he expected some one to jump suddenly upon him and give him a stab in the ribs or a kick in a less noble part, or as if he thought a person was about to creep behind him to listen to what he was saying. Edward had remarked this peculiarity in the governor’s confidant, and had very natural apprehensions that it would lead to their detection. The eyes went up and down, here and there, as usual—now, by a turn of the head, looking over one shoulder, now over the other, now into the governor’s face to ascertain what effect his remarks were producing. Donna Isabel crouched down, really now trembling with fear, for, as far as her gentle nature would allow, she loathed Senhor Pedro even more than his master. Edward stood bolt upright, with his arms by his side and his eyes fixed, to occupy as little space as possible. Round and round went Pedro’s lynx-like orbs. By what possibility could they escape falling on the spot where Edward was endeavouring to hide?A small matter often produces an important result. A little stone, which hundreds of feet had passed by without touching, lay on the ground. The governor struck his toe against it, on which toe a painful callosity existed. Uttering an oath at the pain he was caused, he stumbled forward, and would have proved the hardness of the rock with the tip of his nose had not Pedro caught him as he fell. So assiduous were the attentions of the confidant, that, though Don Lobo limped on slowly, they had both passed beyond the spot from which they could see the fugitives before Pedro’s eyes turned again towards the quarter where they stood. It might be possible that other persons were following, but no one else appeared.It occurred to Edward that the governor might be on his way to see him in his cell, and if so their flight would speedily be discovered. At all events, not a moment was to be lost. Donna Isabel must have thought the same, for, taking his hand, she again led him along the chief gallery in the direction in which they were before going.“The stumble of the governor might be fortunate for more reasons than one,” thought Edward. “If he is going towards my cell, it may delay him and give us a little longer start.”Distances appear much greater to persons walking in the dark and in an unknown path, and thus Edward believed that they must be close on some outlet long before one was reached. More steps were ascended and others descended, and long passages traversed, when Donna Isabel led the way through a narrow one which turned off at right angles to a main gallery, and hurrying along it for some way, they suddenly came to a door. The cool night air came through an iron grating, showing that it was an outlet, if not to the fort itself, to that portion where the prison was placed. Iron bars secured it, and a strong lock, apparently. The lady beckoned to Edward to undertake the task which her weaker arms were unable to perform, throwing the light of the lantern for the purpose on the door. The bolts having been without much difficulty withdrawn, she produced a key, which she handed to Edward. In vain he attempted to fit it in the lock. It was clearly the wrong key, or they had come to the wrong door. There was a latch, but though he pulled at it and shook it, the door would not open.“Alas! I trust the error is not fatal. We should have turned to the right instead of to the left,” whispered Donna Isabel. “It was the only point about which I had any doubt.”Leaving the door with the bolts withdrawn, they retraced their steps for some distance.“Here! here!” whispered Donna Isabel. “This is the right way.”Going on, they stood before a door similar to the one they had before attempted. The bolts were withdrawn with ease; they had evidently lately been oiled. Passing through the gateway, Edward and the lady found themselves in the open air. Edward expected to be outside the fort, but he soon discovered that they were still within the outer works. The heavy footsteps of a sentry as he paced the ramparts could be distinctly heard, the bark of a dog in the distance, and the steady lash of the restless sea on the beach. A wide open space had to be crossed. The attempt must be made, and yet they might be seen by the sentry. Fortunately the night was dark. Donna Isabel held Edward back till the man had turned, and then whispering, “Quick, quick!” led the way, running rapidly across the open space. So quickly she ran, that Edward could scarcely keep up with her. Breathless she reached the parapet of the outer works. At the spot where they stood an angle sheltered them from the sight of the sentry above. Edward looked over, and found that it was directly above the shore, and, as far as he could judge in the darkness, the ditch seemed to have been almost filled with sand. Donna Isabel, stooping down, produced a strong rope from under a gun-carriage, to which the end was secured.“I doubt not its strength,” she whispered; “but I will lead the way.”And before Edward could prevent her grasping the rope, she had flung herself off the wall, and was descending rapidly. Believing that she had reached the bottom, he imitated her example. The rope stretched and cracked as his weight was thrown on it. Every moment he expected it to break, and he was unable to tell the height he might have to fall, or the nature of the ground which he should reach. It was with inexpressible satisfaction that his feet touched some hard, rugged rocks.“We have yet farther to go,” said Donna Isabel. “Then, Don Edoardo, I must leave you with those better able than a weak girl to render you assistance.”Along the rough sea-beat rocks Donna Isabel, with unfaltering steps, held her way. The softer sand was gained, and now faster even than before she fled along, urging Edward to still greater speed.“Go before me, brave Englishman,” she exclaimed. “Even now we may be pursued, and my failing strength will not bear me on as fast as you can run. On, on; care not for me; I will follow.”This, however, Edward could not bring himself to do. It was contrary to all his manly feelings, his ideas of chivalry. Half lifting and half supporting the young lady, he bore her on towards the harbour. As they went, the idea occurred to him, “What could be Donna Isabel’s intentions? Did she propose flying with him?” The question was perplexing. “I’ll tell her at once the truth, and return to prison rather than place her in a wrong position.”While thus hurrying on, however, he found it impossible to express his sentiments.The beach which formed the inner side of the little harbour was at length reached, but no boat could Edward discern.“It is farther out, concealed under the rocks,” said Donna Isabel. “We must endeavour to reach it by walking along them.”The undertaking appeared very hazardous to Edward, who remembered that there were numerous crevices, and smooth, slippery places, down which it would be difficult to avoid falling. Donna Isabel, however, assured him that she was acquainted with a secure path which had been cut in the rocks.After searching for a short time the path was found, and cautiously she led the way along it. It was necessary in the dark to feel every step in advance, lest a false one might precipitate her into the water. The delay was very trying. Neither of them had once looked behind; there would have been no use in so doing. Even if pursued, they could not have fled faster than they had done. Suddenly Donna Isabel stopped.“I cannot find the path,” she exclaimed, after searching round for some time.In vain Edward tried to discover it.While stopping in consequence of this, their eyes were directed for the first time towards the castle. In front of it appeared several bright lights; they were those of torches and lanterns. After flitting about for some time, the lights began to move towards the harbour. They were pursued. If the boat could not be found, they would inevitably be captured.“I will go first and search for the boat, at all hazards,” exclaimed Edward.He walked on. Donna Isabel in her alarm had fancied that they were out of the path, though it was but some roughness of the rock that had misled her. They were soon again in it. With renewed spirits Edward pushed on. He fancied that he saw the boat close under a projecting part of the rock. He hailed.“All right, huzza!” answered a voice. He recognised it as that of Dick Lizard. “We are here, most of us. The Portugals have got three still, but they’ll be out soon and come on here.”Dick, being low down, had not seen the lights near the castle. Edward told him of the circumstance.“Then the poor fellows will be caught,” cried Dick. “If we had a chance we’d go back and help them; but we’ve none. It’s the chance of war. If the scoundrel Portugals kill them, we’ll avenge them some day. But step in, sir, and we’ll shove off. We are sadly short-handed, that’s the worst of it, if we are chased. However, it can’t be helped.”Edward had not spoken to Donna Isabel for some seconds, or it might be a minute or two; certainly not since he had heard Lizard’s voice. Now came the perplexing point, what would she do? Don Joao was not in the boat, nor any of her countrymen. Would she desire to accompany him? He turned to address her, to express his deep gratitude for her noble exertions, and the arrangements she had made thus far so successfully to enable him to escape. Great and painful was his astonishment, however, when, on turning, Donna Isabel was nowhere to be seen. Lizard had not perceived her.“When I first caught sight of you, Master Raymond, you were alone; that I’ll swear, sir,” he replied.Edward sprang back horrified.“Donna Isabel! Donna Isabel!” he shouted. He felt as grieved and alarmed as he would have done had she been a beloved sister. The dreadful idea seized him that she must have slipped off the rock and been drowned; for calm as was the sea, the swell sent a constant current into the harbour, which would instantly have drawn her away from the spot where she had fallen.“Donna Isabel! Donna Isabel!” he again shouted.No answer was given. To delay longer would have been useless. Dick and the other men had joined in the fruitless search. They now literally forced him into the boat, and, shoving off, began to pull down the harbour. As they did so, one of the men declared he saw an object floating by—an uplifted hand. On they pulled; it was ahead. Again it was seen. At that moment lights appeared on the beach, and advancing along the rocks. The fugitives were, however, on the element they loved. They were free. A few strokes more and they would be out of the harbour, when, alas! the stem of the boat struck against a chain drawn tightly across the mouth, and the loud cries and derisive shouts of the Portugals told them that their hopes of escape were vain.

“How fares it with the good ship, Dick?” asked Edward, fearing for one moment to withdraw his eyes from off his arduous task of steering the boat amid the raging seas.

The answer came not from the British seaman, but from one of the passengers taken from the ship:—

“Mother of Heaven! they are lost—all lost!”

The words, uttered by the young lady who had been the first received into the boat, were followed by a heart-rending shriek as she sank fainting into the arms of her father. Many of those who had been saved had relatives, all had friends and acquaintances, on board the ship. Some others cried out and expressed their horror or regret, but the greater number looked on with stolid indifference, satisfied that they had themselves escaped immediate destruction, or absorbed in the selfish contemplation of their own pending fate. It seemed even now scarcely possible that the boat, heavily laden as she was, could escape being swamped. Humanly speaking, her safety depended on the bone and muscle and perseverance of her crew. None but true British seamen could have held out as they did. Many hours had elapsed since the ship was first seen; night was approaching, and the sea still ran so high that it would be next to madness to attempt re-entering the little harbour—a task far more difficult than getting out of it, as the slightest deviation to the right or left would have caused the instant destruction of the boat and of all on board her. There was nothing, therefore, but to continue at sea. There was no other harbour for many miles either to the north or south which they could hope to reach within many days.

“An’ we had but provender aboard, Master Raymond, we might give the Portugals the slip, and never let them see our handsome faces again,” observed Dick, after keeping silence for a considerable time.

“True, Dick,” answered Edward, and hope rose in his heart at the bare mention of escaping; but with a sigh he added, “First, though, we have no provender, and had we, in duty we are bound to land these poor people as soon as we can with safety venture so to do. Already they are almost worn out, and a few hours more of exposure may destroy their lives, which we have undergone this peril to preserve. Then, again, the Portugals allowed us to take the boat on the faith that we were to return. Duty is duty, Dick; the temptations to neglect it do not alter its nature, whatever the old tempter Satan may say to the contrary. Let us stick to duty and never mind the consequences.”

“That’s all true, no doubt, Master Raymond, what you say,” replied Lizard. “But it would be hard, if there was a chance of getting away, to go back to prison. Liberty is sweet, especially to seamen.”

“Duty is duty, Dick,” repeated Raymond. “What is right is the right thing to do ever since the world began. Maybe the gale will go down, and by dawn we may land these poor people without danger. It will be a happy thing to us to have saved them; and, to my mind, even our prison will be less dreary from having done it.”

All hands were soon brought round to their officer’s opinion. The sun was now setting, and darkness in that latitude comes on immediately afterwards. Their prospect was therefore dreary and trying in the extreme. It was difficult to keep the boat free from water in the day; still more difficult would it be while night shrouded the ocean with her sombre mantle. Hunger, too, was assailing the insides of the crew; but, still undaunted, they prepared to combat with all their difficulties. Rest they must not expect; their safety depended on their pulling away without ceasing at the oars. Pull they did right manfully. Now one broke into a song; now another cheered the hearts of his companions with a stave, which he trolled forth at the top of his voice. The example was infectious, and in spite of hunger and fatigue, jokes and laughter and songs succeeded each other in rapid succession. The jokes were none of the most refined, nor were the songs replete with wisdom; but the laughter, at all events, was loud and hearty; above all things, it had the effect of raising the drooping spirits of the poor beings who had been confided to them by Providence.

As they sang, and joked, and rowed, the sea began to go down, and thus, as their strength decreased, the necessity of exerting it became less; still they were compelled to pull on to keep the boat off the land and her head to the sea. At length the singers’ voices grew lower and lower, and the jokers ceased their jokes, and the heads of some as they rowed dropped on their bosoms for an instant, but were speedily raised again with a jerk and a shake as they strove to arouse their faculties. Edward had need of all his energies to keep himself to his task, and he told Dick to warn him should he show any signs of drowsiness.

The hours as the morning approached appeared doubly long. The dawn came at last, and then the sun in a blaze of glory shot upward through the sky and cast his burning rays across the waters upon the boat, with her living but almost exhausted freight yet struggling bravely. The wind had fallen. There was a perfect calm, but yet the billows rolled on, moved, it seemed, by some mysterious power unseen to human eye—not, as before, broken and foaming, but in long, smooth, glassy rollers. Smooth as they were, they would have proved fatally treacherous to the boat had Raymond ventured to land. As they approached the beach they gained strength and height, and then broke with tremendous fury on the smooth sand or rugged rocks, as if indignant at being stayed in their course. Again and again Edward and his companions gazed wistfully at the coast. That formidable line of breakers still prohibited approach. He and his companions had before been suffering from hunger. As the sun rose higher and became hotter and hotter, thirst assailed them—thirst more terrible and more fatal than hunger. The poor passengers suffered most; it seemed as if they had escaped a speedy death on the previous day, to suffer one more painful and lingering. Raymond had been unable till now to pay them much attention personally, leaving them to assist each other as best they could. He was now attracted by the affectionate manner in which the young lady who had been at first saved tended her aged father, and at length, when he could with safety leave the helm, on stooping down to aid her, he recognised in her features, careworn as they were, those of Donna Isabel d’Almeida. He addressed her by name.

“What! then our gallant deliverer is the Englishman Don Edoardo, the friend of Don Antonio!” she exclaimed. “Father, father, we are safe among friends; they will surely take us to the shore when they can. I perceived the likeness from the first, but, overcome with terror and confusion, I could not assure myself of the fact. You will forgive me, Don Edoardo.”

“Indeed, fair lady, I have nothing to forgive,” said Edward. “I rejoice to have been the means of thus far preserving one for whom I have so high an esteem from a dreadful fate. I cannot but believe that Providence, which has saved us thus far, will enable us yet to reach the shore in safety.”

“Heaven and all the saints grant that we may! and under your guidance I have no fear,” answered Donna Isabel. “But, Don Edoardo—”

The young lady stopped and hesitated, and then continued in a faint voice—

“There was another brave officer of your ship I would ask after—Don Antonio. I could never pronounce his family name. How is it that he is not with you?”

This question very naturally led Edward to describe the battle, and how he had been taken prisoner and brought to Goa, and thence transferred to the safe keeping of Don Lobo, and how he and his companions had been treated, and how they had been enabled to come off to the assistance of the ship in consequence of the cowardice of her countrymen, who were glad to get others to do the work which they were afraid to attempt.

This account was listened to with interest by the rest of the passengers, who all exclaimed against the cruelty and injustice of Don Lobo, and promised, should they be preserved, to use their influence in obtaining the liberty of the brave Englishmen.

“See, Dick, did I not say right when I told thee that we should do our duty, and leave the consequences to Providence?” Raymond could not help remarking to Lizard. “We shall now have many friends about us on shore, and some of them will get us set free, depend on that.”

“I hope you are right, Master Raymond; but to my mind the Portugal chaps haven’t much gratitude in their nature, and out of sight with them is out of mind,” was Dick’s reply.

As the day drew on, the anxiety of all in the boat to reach the land increased; indeed, it was very evident that without water several would be unable to exist through another night. Accordingly, about four hours after noon, as was guessed by the height of the sun, Raymond announced his intention of making the attempt to run into the harbour. He had carefully noted the bearings of the marks at the entrance on coming out, so that he was able to steer a direct course for the spot. The long swells still rolled in, and broke along the coast in sheets of foam, and all he hoped to find were a few yards of green water through which he might steer his boat. The belief that their toils were to come to an end roused up even the most exhausted of the crew. On glided the boat. Now those on board looked down on the shore full in view before them—now a smooth green wall of water rose up and shut it from their sight. Even the bravest held their breath as they approached the rocks, and the loud roar of the breakers sounded in their ears. Edward and Lizard stood up, grasping the tiller between them. There was no going back now. Had they allowed the boat to come broadside to one of those watery heights she would instantly have been rolled over and over, and cast helpless on the rocks. Many a silent prayer was offered up that such a fate might be averted. Nearer and nearer the boat approached the rocks. “Back water—back water, lads!” cried Raymond, and a huge roller lifted the boat high above the shore, but failed to carry her forward. It broke with a thundering roar into sheets of foam, and then opened before them a smooth channel. “Pull—pull for your lives, lads!” cried Edward. The seamen obeyed with a will. The boat shot on, and, amid showers of spray on either hand ere a breath could be completely drawn, she was gliding forward, all dangers passed, towards the beach, where hundreds of persons, Portugals and natives, stood ready to receive them. The boat was hauled up on the beach, and, this task accomplished, even Edward and Lizard sank down, unable to support themselves. They and their companions were carried up to the castle, and, although somewhat better chambers were provided for them, they found themselves still prisoners, and strictly guarded.

“I told you so, Master Raymond—I told you so!” exclaimed Dick. “There’s no gratitude in these Portugals.”

However, after the lapse of a few days their condition was altered very much for the better, and provisions and luxuries of various sorts were sent in as presents from those who had heard of their brave exploit. Raymond also received visits from Don Joao d’Almeida, as also from various other persons of influence. He was himself allowed rather more liberty than before, and was even permitted to ride out in a morning with an escort, in company with some of the officers of the fort, and to enter into such society as the place afforded. He thus constantly met the young Donna Isabel, whom he could not help regarding with interest. At the same time, whatever might have been his private opinion regarding the attractions of that fair lady, even had they been far greater than he esteemed them, he would not have allowed himself to be influenced by them; first because there was one in his far-off home to whom his troth was plighted, and secondly because he fancied that her affections were fixed on Waymouth, and though he devoutly hoped that his friend would never marry her, yet he considered that as a messmate and a friend he was not the person to stand between them. These were the very reasons which suggested themselves to his mind as an excuse, as it were, for not following the rules of all romances, and falling desperately in love with the young lady whom he had been the means of preserving from a dreadful death.

It is possible that even had Edward not been influenced by these two reasons for not falling in love, as the phrase goes, with Donna Isabel, he might have found others—indeed, that she was a Romanist and of a different nation would have had great power with him alone—but it is not necessary to enter into them; the fact remains, he did not in the slightest degree set his affections on her. He, however, believing firmly that she was in love with Waymouth, and having a true and honest heart himself, placing full confidence in the constancy of woman, undoubtedly paid her great attention—such courteous attention as a brother would pay a sister, or an honest man his friend’s wife, certainly thinking no evil, or that evil could arise therefrom.

Now it happened that Don Lobo, the governor of the Castle of San Pedro and its dependencies, was a bachelor, and, although a surly, cruel, and morose fellow, had a heart susceptible of the tender passion, or rather of what he fancied was the tender passion, for it would be difficult to suppose any thing tender connected with him. It had been very long since he had seen anybody so young and so beautiful as Donna Isabel, and no sooner did he set eyes on her after she had recovered from the effects of her voyage and exposure in the open boat than he began to be unusually agitated, nor could he rest night or day for thinking of her. His siestas in his hammock at noon, with slaves fanning his face, brought him no rest, nor was it afforded by his couch at night. He resolved to make Donna Isabel his wife. He did all he could to exhibit his feelings towards her; but, powerful as they might have been, and although she might have discovered what they were, she certainly did not return them.

Notwithstanding this, matters went on smoothly enough for some time. Don Lobo was not a despairing lover, and he knew enough of the female sex to be aware that their feelings are not altogether immutable, even if they change only by slow degrees. Donna Isabel’s sentiments might alter, and he might reach a high point in her favour. Time, however, passed on as it has done ever since the world began, and no such change as the governor anticipated took place; on the contrary, as the young lady’s eyes were more and more opened to the true state of the case, so did her dislike to the don the more and more increase. Indeed, whenever she looked at him, or thought about him, or heard him spoken of, it was with a feeling rather akin to disgust than to devotion. She did not, nevertheless, exhibit these uncomplimentary sentiments as forcibly as under other circumstances she might have done. She and her father were, in the first place, guests of Don Lobo, and dependent on him. Poor Don Joao had also lost all his property in the ship, and, it having been supposed that he was lost, another person had been appointed to his proposed government, and he had to wait till he could receive a fresh appointment from home. Don Lobo was also rich, and had pressed money on Don Joao, which he had accepted, and had thus become still more indebted to him. All these circumstances would have made it very impolitic in Donna Isabel to exhibit her real sentiments, which she was thus in part compelled to disguise, though she could not do so altogether; nor did she afford the slightest encouragement to her unattractive admirer. At first the surly don was very indifferent to this state of things.

“She’ll yield—she’ll yield before long to my powerful persuasions and personal attractions,” he observed to his confidant and factotum, Pedro Pacheco, a worthy always ready to do his master’s behests, whatever they might be. “I’ll put on my new doublet and hose, and my jewel-hilted sword, and I’ll attack her again this day manfully.”

“Certainly, most certainly, Senhor Don Lobo. A man of your excellency’s superlative qualities, no female heart, however hard, can possibly long withstand,” observed Pedro.

“I knew that would be your opinion, my faithful Pedro,” said the governor—the fact being that the faithful Pedro always did agree with his patron, not troubling himself to decide whether he thought him right or wrong. In this instance both were wrong.

The governor, to the surprise of the garrison, who had been always accustomed to see him wearing a greasy old doublet and a rusty-hilted sword, made his appearance in a richly ornamented suit, which, though somewhat fusty from having been long shut up, had the advantage of being costly.

He was received, however, as usual by Donna Isabel, who, though she could not help remarking that he wore a handsomer dress than usual, said nothing whatever which might lead him to suppose that she saw in him the least improvement. He tried to talk, but in vain; not a word of sense could he produce. Then he tried to look unutterable things, but he only grinned and squinted horribly, till he frightened the young lady out of her senses, and made her suppose that he was thoroughly bent on going into a fit. Although he did not suspect the cause, he had the wit to discover that he had not made a favourable impression, and returned to his quarters disappointed and not a little angry with his ill success. Pedro Pacheco could only advise him to try again. He might have acted a more friendly part if he had said “Give it up.” Don Lobo did try again, and with the like ill success.

“Persevere,” said Pedro.

The governor did persevere day after day, and at length, in spite of the entire absence of all encouragement, declared his passion. Donna Isabel frankly told him that she did not love him, and did not believe that she ever should. She might have said she did not think she ever could. He said nothing, but made his bow and exit. He told Pedro Pacheco of his ill fortune.

“Then she loves another!” observed Pedro.

“Who can he be?” exclaimed the governor in a fierce voice.

“Where have your excellency’s eyes been of late?” asked the confidant quietly.

“What!” cried Don Lobo, giving a furious pull at his beard, “that Englishman?”

“The same,” said Pedro Pacheco, nodding his head.

“Then I will take good care he no longer interferes with me,” said the don in a savage tone.

“Of course it would be unwise not to exert your authority when you have him in your power,” said Pedro. “Better put him out of the way altogether.”

“He has friends—I must have an excuse,” said the governor.

“He has been plotting or will be plotting to make his escape,” observed Pedro. “To effect this he would not scruple to murder all in the castle. He and his companions have shown what daring rogues they are by going out to the rescue of Donna Isabel and the rest when none of our heroic countrymen would attempt the exploit. Ah, those English are terrible fellows!”

“Proof must be brought to me of their abominable intentions, and then we shall have this officer and his men in our poorer,” observed the governor savagely.

“Proof, your excellency! there will be no want of that, considering that our garrison consists of the very scum of the streets of Lisbon,” answered the confidant. “Why, we have men here who for a peço have sworn away the lives of their most intimate acquaintances. Of course, in so admirable a cause they would have no scruple in swearing whatever we may dictate, even should it not be absolutely correct.”

“What you may dictate, honest Pacheco, not we, understand,” said the governor. “They may bungle when brought into court as witnesses, and though under ordinary circumstances that would not matter, some of these shipwrecked persons are likely to be favourable to them, and might report unfavourably of me if matters did not go smoothly. As to the means I am indifferent when so important a result is to be attained.”

“Ah, most noble governor, I understand all about your wishes in the matter, and will take care that the affair is carried out in a satisfactory way,” answered the honest Pedro, making his master an obsequious bow as he left the room.

Don Lobo clinched his fist, and, grinding his teeth, struck out as if he had got his prisoner’s face directly in front of him. The performance of this act seemed to afford him infinite satisfaction, for he walked up and down the room with a grin which might in courtesy have been called a smile on his countenance for some time till his legs grew weary of the exercise.

Not long after this, Edward was one evening pacing the terrace facing the sea, casting many a longing glance over the glass-like water of the ocean, on which the rays of the setting sun had spread a sheet of golden hue, and he was considering by what means he could possibly with his companions make his escape, when rough hands were laid on his shoulders and he found his arms suddenly pinioned from behind. His first impulse was to endeavour to shake them off, and having by a violent effort done so, his next was to double his fists and to strike at them right and left, knocking two of them down at the instant in a true British fashion. At that instant, Dick Lizard, coming on the terrace and seeing his officer assailed, rushed forward to his assistance, and quickly sent two more Portugals tumbling head over heels right and left of him.

“To the rescue! to the rescue!” he shouted out, and his voice quickly collected all the English prisoners who were within hearing. Of course more Portugals hurried up to the spot, who at once joined in the fray. Swords and daggers were drawn, which the Englishmen quickly wrenched from the hands of their assailants, though not till several of the prisoners had been wounded; and now the clash of steel was heard and fire-arms were discharged, and the skirmish became general. In the midst of it Pedro Pacheco rushed out of his quarters, crying out—

“Treason! treason! the English are rising and murdering every one of us,” and at the same moment he levelled a pistol at Raymond’s head. The bullet would probably have, ended the life of the gallant adventurer had not Dick Lizard struck up the Portugal’s arm, for he had no time in the first instance to do more, but a second blow from his fist sent Senhor Pedro sprawling on the ground among several others of his party who had been placed in the same horizontal position by the sturdy Englishmen.

In spite of the superior numbers of the Portugals, the fate of so many of their party made the rest unwilling to close with the prisoners, who, not knowing what was intended, stood boldly at bay, resolved to sell their lives dearly, Dick Lizard singing out—

“Come on—come on, ye varlets! we don’t fear ye. One Spaniard lick two Portugee, one Englishman lick all three!”

This state of things could not, however, last long. Trumpets were sounding, drums were beating, and soldiers from all quarters were collecting, who now with Don Lobo at their head surrounded the Englishmen. At the command of the governor they were levelling their matchlocks (fortunately the matter of discharging them was not a speedy operation), when Don Joao d’Almeida and his daughter Donna Isabel made their appearance on the scene with most of those who had been preserved from the wreck.

“Hold, hold, countrymen!” cried Don Joao. “What! are you about to slaughter those who so gallantly risked their lives to save ours? Hold, I say; I am sure that you, Don Edoardo, have done nothing intentionally to deserve this treatment.”

Donna Isabel joined her entreaties with those of her father.

“Certainly I have no wish to break the peace,” answered Raymond. “The arms we hold were taken from those who assailed us, and we are ready to lay them down instantly at the command of the governor, in whose lawful custody we consider ourselves.”

Thus appealed to, Don Lobo could not, without outraging all law, order the destruction of his prisoners. Those who had possessed themselves of weapons put them down, when they were immediately seized each by not less than six Portugals, and marched off to the cells in which they had at first been confined.

“I must inquire into the cause of this outbreak, when punishment will be awarded to the guilty,” said Don Lobo, as he stalked back to his quarters.

The unpleasant look which the governor cast on him made Edward feel that evil was intended. His suspicions were speedily confirmed, for instead of being taken to the chamber he had lately occupied, he was marched off to the prison in which he and his companions had at first been confined, and was thrust alone into a dark, close, foul dungeon, at a distance, he feared, from Lizard and his other men. He knew nothing of the jealous feelings which had sprung up in the bosom of Don Lobo, or his apprehensions would naturally have been greatly increased. The air of the dungeon was noxious and oppressive, and he had not been in it many hours before he began to feel its ill effects.

“A week or two in such a hole as this will bring my days to a close,” he said to himself as he surveyed, as far as the obscurity would allow, the narrow confines of his prison-house. “Alas! alas! my adventure has turned out ill indeed. My own Beatrice, for thy sake I left my native land, and thou wilt have, ere long, to mourn me dead. For thy sake, sweet girl, I pray that I may escape.”

In this strain he soliloquised for some time, as people in his circumstances are apt to do, and then he set to work to consider how, by his own exertions, he might be able to get free. He was fain to confess, that, unaided, he had not the slightest chance of escape. Of one thing, however, he was certain—that Dick Lizard would not rest day or night till he had made an attempt to help him. And he knew that Dick, with all a sailor’s bluntness and thoughtlessness, had a considerable amount of ready wit, and of caution too, where it was necessary for the accomplishment of an important object. Edward hoped also that his friends would prove true, and exert themselves in his favour.

All this time Don Lobo had resolved on his destruction, and only waited the best opportunity of accomplishing it. Knowing the character of the dungeon in which his prisoner was confined, he believed that he should have very little trouble about the matter. Edward’s constitution was, however, very sound, and though he certainly suffered in health, he did not break down altogether, as the governor expected would be the case. Don Lobo, therefore, announced publicly that he intended to bring the prisoners engaged in the late outbreak to a trial. This every one knew well would result in their being shot. Day after day passed by. Edward found his imprisonment more and more irksome, while he had not yet succeeded in communicating with Lizard, nor could he ascertain even where the honest fellow was shut up. His jailers were only conversable when they had any disagreeable news to communicate, and it is extraordinary how loquacious they became when the day of his trial was fixed, and the opinion as to his fate was formed. They seemed to take especial delight in taunting him and in annoying him in every way.

“Ah, senhor, many an honest man has been hung before now, and many a rogue, and neither seems to think it a pleasant operation,” remarked one of the fellows, imitating the contortions of countenance of a strangled person.

“To which class does the noble senhor belong, I wonder?” said another.

“Maybe to the last, if he will pardon me saying so,” observed a third with a grin.

“But, ah me! rogue or honest, there will be some fair ladies mourning for him in more ports than one,” cried another, who was considered the wit of the gang. “Permit me, senhor, to convey your last dying message to some or all of them. Maybe in your own land there is some fair young dame from whom you would not willingly be parted, eh? I thought that I should hit the right nail on the head.”

“Peace—peace, men!” exclaimed Edward. “For your own sakes, lest you should ever be in a like condition, allow me to be alone.”

His appeal, made with dignity and calmness, had more effect than he expected, and the men shrank back, for a time, at least, abashed. Their last remarks did not, however, affect his feelings as might have been supposed, the fact being that his Beatrice was never out of his thoughts, and night and day his prayers had been for blessings on her head.

The day of the Englishmen’s trial approached. Of the result there could not be a shadow of doubt. Numerous witnesses were able to prove that they had been found in open insurrection with arms in their hands, while there was no one to speak in their favour. Any thing, also, like justice was unknown in the land. Still, Don Lobo, having resolved to get rid of his supposed rival, wished to give as great an air of formality and legality to his proceedings as he possibly could.

Edward, from all he could ascertain, felt convinced that he had not many days to live. The night before his trial arrived he had thrown himself on the heap of straw which served as his bed by night and his only seat by day, that he might obtain some repose, the better to go through his ordeal on the morrow, when he heard his prison-door open gently, without the usual creaking noise which announced the appearance of his jailers, and a bright light streamed on his closed eyes. He fancied that he must be dreaming, till he unclosed them and discovered that the light was held by a being habited in a white robe, beautiful in appearance, whether celestial or human he could not at first decide. If the latter, she was young and of the fair sex. He looked again. Yes—Donna Isabel d’Almeida stood before him. She put her finger to her lips to impose silence, and kneeling down by his side whispered for some time into his ears. She then produced a couple of files and other instruments for forcing off shackles, which she and the prisoner plied so assiduously that scarcely half an hour had passed before he stood up free from his chains.

“Take off your shoes and put on these woollen slippers, and follow me, senhor,” whispered Donna Isabel. “The guards are asleep, and if no noise is made we need not fear being stopped.”

Edward could scarcely believe his senses, and fancied that he must be asleep, but still he wisely did as he was bid. He, however, felt scarcely able to walk after being shut up for so long in that pestiferous dungeon. Donna Isabel, shrouding part of the lantern, glided towards the door, which opening noiselessly she passed out, he following. She led the way up a narrow, dark, winding staircase. It had not many steps, and Edward, to his surprise, found himself pacing a long passage, the end of which he could not distinguish. He had never before been in that part of the fort. Not a sound was heard, nor did his own nor his guide’s footfall make the slightest noise. He conjectured that the guard had just before made the rounds, and that the warders had settled themselves into their nooks and corners and gone to sleep. Donna Isabel seemed to have perfect confidence that all was right, though he could not help expecting every instant to come on one of these nooks, and to find a warder prepared to dispute their onward progress.

He had been aware that his dungeon was at a considerable depth, but, judging from the number of steps he had to ascend, he found that it was even deeper down than he had supposed. The gallery was low and arched—hewn out of the rock it appeared, or built of rough stones, though, as may be supposed, he made no very exact observations as he hurried on. Suddenly Donna Isabel stopped, and taking his arm led him round a corner into another corridor or gallery. It was a side passage, or, probably, rather a passage which had been commenced but not finished. Covering up her lantern, they were in total darkness. Edward had, however, time to ascertain that they were behind a buttress or projecting part of the wall, which would conceal them partially from any one passing along the main gallery they had quitted. Donna Isabel had not sought the place of concealment a moment too soon, for scarcely was the light shrouded than footsteps were heard and a glare of light appeared. The light proceeded from a couple of torches held by two men, and directly behind them stalked no less a person than the governor himself, followed closely by Pedro Pacheco. The glare penetrated to the recess in which the fugitives stood, and Edward expected every moment to be discovered by Don Lobo. The don was, however, near-sighted, or so occupied in earnest conversation, that he did not turn his eyes in that direction. Edward could hear his companion’s heart beat. Discovery would have been destruction to both of them probably—to him certainly. The governor, also—as was his habit—walked along with his eyes on the ground, but those of the worthy Pedro had the custom of continually casting furtive glances here and there, as if he expected some one to jump suddenly upon him and give him a stab in the ribs or a kick in a less noble part, or as if he thought a person was about to creep behind him to listen to what he was saying. Edward had remarked this peculiarity in the governor’s confidant, and had very natural apprehensions that it would lead to their detection. The eyes went up and down, here and there, as usual—now, by a turn of the head, looking over one shoulder, now over the other, now into the governor’s face to ascertain what effect his remarks were producing. Donna Isabel crouched down, really now trembling with fear, for, as far as her gentle nature would allow, she loathed Senhor Pedro even more than his master. Edward stood bolt upright, with his arms by his side and his eyes fixed, to occupy as little space as possible. Round and round went Pedro’s lynx-like orbs. By what possibility could they escape falling on the spot where Edward was endeavouring to hide?

A small matter often produces an important result. A little stone, which hundreds of feet had passed by without touching, lay on the ground. The governor struck his toe against it, on which toe a painful callosity existed. Uttering an oath at the pain he was caused, he stumbled forward, and would have proved the hardness of the rock with the tip of his nose had not Pedro caught him as he fell. So assiduous were the attentions of the confidant, that, though Don Lobo limped on slowly, they had both passed beyond the spot from which they could see the fugitives before Pedro’s eyes turned again towards the quarter where they stood. It might be possible that other persons were following, but no one else appeared.

It occurred to Edward that the governor might be on his way to see him in his cell, and if so their flight would speedily be discovered. At all events, not a moment was to be lost. Donna Isabel must have thought the same, for, taking his hand, she again led him along the chief gallery in the direction in which they were before going.

“The stumble of the governor might be fortunate for more reasons than one,” thought Edward. “If he is going towards my cell, it may delay him and give us a little longer start.”

Distances appear much greater to persons walking in the dark and in an unknown path, and thus Edward believed that they must be close on some outlet long before one was reached. More steps were ascended and others descended, and long passages traversed, when Donna Isabel led the way through a narrow one which turned off at right angles to a main gallery, and hurrying along it for some way, they suddenly came to a door. The cool night air came through an iron grating, showing that it was an outlet, if not to the fort itself, to that portion where the prison was placed. Iron bars secured it, and a strong lock, apparently. The lady beckoned to Edward to undertake the task which her weaker arms were unable to perform, throwing the light of the lantern for the purpose on the door. The bolts having been without much difficulty withdrawn, she produced a key, which she handed to Edward. In vain he attempted to fit it in the lock. It was clearly the wrong key, or they had come to the wrong door. There was a latch, but though he pulled at it and shook it, the door would not open.

“Alas! I trust the error is not fatal. We should have turned to the right instead of to the left,” whispered Donna Isabel. “It was the only point about which I had any doubt.”

Leaving the door with the bolts withdrawn, they retraced their steps for some distance.

“Here! here!” whispered Donna Isabel. “This is the right way.”

Going on, they stood before a door similar to the one they had before attempted. The bolts were withdrawn with ease; they had evidently lately been oiled. Passing through the gateway, Edward and the lady found themselves in the open air. Edward expected to be outside the fort, but he soon discovered that they were still within the outer works. The heavy footsteps of a sentry as he paced the ramparts could be distinctly heard, the bark of a dog in the distance, and the steady lash of the restless sea on the beach. A wide open space had to be crossed. The attempt must be made, and yet they might be seen by the sentry. Fortunately the night was dark. Donna Isabel held Edward back till the man had turned, and then whispering, “Quick, quick!” led the way, running rapidly across the open space. So quickly she ran, that Edward could scarcely keep up with her. Breathless she reached the parapet of the outer works. At the spot where they stood an angle sheltered them from the sight of the sentry above. Edward looked over, and found that it was directly above the shore, and, as far as he could judge in the darkness, the ditch seemed to have been almost filled with sand. Donna Isabel, stooping down, produced a strong rope from under a gun-carriage, to which the end was secured.

“I doubt not its strength,” she whispered; “but I will lead the way.”

And before Edward could prevent her grasping the rope, she had flung herself off the wall, and was descending rapidly. Believing that she had reached the bottom, he imitated her example. The rope stretched and cracked as his weight was thrown on it. Every moment he expected it to break, and he was unable to tell the height he might have to fall, or the nature of the ground which he should reach. It was with inexpressible satisfaction that his feet touched some hard, rugged rocks.

“We have yet farther to go,” said Donna Isabel. “Then, Don Edoardo, I must leave you with those better able than a weak girl to render you assistance.”

Along the rough sea-beat rocks Donna Isabel, with unfaltering steps, held her way. The softer sand was gained, and now faster even than before she fled along, urging Edward to still greater speed.

“Go before me, brave Englishman,” she exclaimed. “Even now we may be pursued, and my failing strength will not bear me on as fast as you can run. On, on; care not for me; I will follow.”

This, however, Edward could not bring himself to do. It was contrary to all his manly feelings, his ideas of chivalry. Half lifting and half supporting the young lady, he bore her on towards the harbour. As they went, the idea occurred to him, “What could be Donna Isabel’s intentions? Did she propose flying with him?” The question was perplexing. “I’ll tell her at once the truth, and return to prison rather than place her in a wrong position.”

While thus hurrying on, however, he found it impossible to express his sentiments.

The beach which formed the inner side of the little harbour was at length reached, but no boat could Edward discern.

“It is farther out, concealed under the rocks,” said Donna Isabel. “We must endeavour to reach it by walking along them.”

The undertaking appeared very hazardous to Edward, who remembered that there were numerous crevices, and smooth, slippery places, down which it would be difficult to avoid falling. Donna Isabel, however, assured him that she was acquainted with a secure path which had been cut in the rocks.

After searching for a short time the path was found, and cautiously she led the way along it. It was necessary in the dark to feel every step in advance, lest a false one might precipitate her into the water. The delay was very trying. Neither of them had once looked behind; there would have been no use in so doing. Even if pursued, they could not have fled faster than they had done. Suddenly Donna Isabel stopped.

“I cannot find the path,” she exclaimed, after searching round for some time.

In vain Edward tried to discover it.

While stopping in consequence of this, their eyes were directed for the first time towards the castle. In front of it appeared several bright lights; they were those of torches and lanterns. After flitting about for some time, the lights began to move towards the harbour. They were pursued. If the boat could not be found, they would inevitably be captured.

“I will go first and search for the boat, at all hazards,” exclaimed Edward.

He walked on. Donna Isabel in her alarm had fancied that they were out of the path, though it was but some roughness of the rock that had misled her. They were soon again in it. With renewed spirits Edward pushed on. He fancied that he saw the boat close under a projecting part of the rock. He hailed.

“All right, huzza!” answered a voice. He recognised it as that of Dick Lizard. “We are here, most of us. The Portugals have got three still, but they’ll be out soon and come on here.”

Dick, being low down, had not seen the lights near the castle. Edward told him of the circumstance.

“Then the poor fellows will be caught,” cried Dick. “If we had a chance we’d go back and help them; but we’ve none. It’s the chance of war. If the scoundrel Portugals kill them, we’ll avenge them some day. But step in, sir, and we’ll shove off. We are sadly short-handed, that’s the worst of it, if we are chased. However, it can’t be helped.”

Edward had not spoken to Donna Isabel for some seconds, or it might be a minute or two; certainly not since he had heard Lizard’s voice. Now came the perplexing point, what would she do? Don Joao was not in the boat, nor any of her countrymen. Would she desire to accompany him? He turned to address her, to express his deep gratitude for her noble exertions, and the arrangements she had made thus far so successfully to enable him to escape. Great and painful was his astonishment, however, when, on turning, Donna Isabel was nowhere to be seen. Lizard had not perceived her.

“When I first caught sight of you, Master Raymond, you were alone; that I’ll swear, sir,” he replied.

Edward sprang back horrified.

“Donna Isabel! Donna Isabel!” he shouted. He felt as grieved and alarmed as he would have done had she been a beloved sister. The dreadful idea seized him that she must have slipped off the rock and been drowned; for calm as was the sea, the swell sent a constant current into the harbour, which would instantly have drawn her away from the spot where she had fallen.

“Donna Isabel! Donna Isabel!” he again shouted.

No answer was given. To delay longer would have been useless. Dick and the other men had joined in the fruitless search. They now literally forced him into the boat, and, shoving off, began to pull down the harbour. As they did so, one of the men declared he saw an object floating by—an uplifted hand. On they pulled; it was ahead. Again it was seen. At that moment lights appeared on the beach, and advancing along the rocks. The fugitives were, however, on the element they loved. They were free. A few strokes more and they would be out of the harbour, when, alas! the stem of the boat struck against a chain drawn tightly across the mouth, and the loud cries and derisive shouts of the Portugals told them that their hopes of escape were vain.

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