CHAPTER XII.TAKEN PRISONER.
WhenI found myself blindfolded, gagged, and securely bound by the ruffians who had sprung upon me, my heart sank within me, for I fully thought that my fate was sealed. And what an awful fate it might be I hardly dared to contemplate. I had heard, of course—and the remembrance recurred to me now with additional force—that the mutineers of theFlying-fish, had cruelly and in cold blood murdered their captain and chief mate, and thrown their bodies to the sharks. Men who had committed such a deed of infamy were capable of anything—even of torturing us.
Till I was completely exhausted, I fought desperately with these fiends, and so, as I mentioned before, did the gunner and Ned Burton. I must say this much for our captors, that they carried out the affair with amazing cleverness, coolness, and audacity; forour seizure was accomplished in such a manner as to ensure secrecy and obviate any necessity for using weapons.
I really felt more dead than alive when I was ruthlessly dragged away from the spot where the struggle had taken place. I can assure the reader that it is no joke to be knocked about and roughly handled by four active, muscular rascals who have received orders to secure you at any cost.
Feeling bruised, giddy, and faint therefore, I had to submit to the indignity of being dragged away like a dead pig, convinced that an awful fate most surely awaited me and my unfortunate companions.
What would I not have given to see the brave Jim Beddoes and his trusty men rushing down like a whirlwind upon these audacious scoundrels, and making them fly in all directions. It was terribly tantalizing to think of the well-armed little detachment of stanch friends actually within hail, if we could only have managed to shout to them for assistance. I felt extremely sorry for Mr. Triggs, for I knew what his feelings must have been, and how he must have blamed himself for having led us into danger.
In spite of my weak and terribly anxious state, Icould not help wondering how the foe had got wind of our approach, and been able to make such elaborate preparations for our capture.
For about ten minutes these ruthless fellows dragged us at their heels, and then came to a sudden halt, and I heard them exchanging remarks in a language which sounded to me like bad Spanish. I concluded, therefore, that none of the mutineers of theFlying-fishwere amongst them, which struck me as a peculiar circumstance. Whilst revolving this in my mind, I felt that some one was carefully examining the bandage over my eyes, as if to ascertain whether I could see or not. The next moment I was hurried forward by the united exertions of several men, and felt myself being borne through what felt like a plantation of young trees or shrubs; and shortly afterwards realized the very disagreeable fact that I was being impelled down a flight of rude, slippery steps, on which I had considerable difficulty in keeping my footing. If it had not been for the iron grip of my jailers, I should have been precipitated from the top to the bottom. To my bewildered mind this rude staircase seemed interminable, and at every step my spirits sank lower and lower, and at length, when we appeared to reach the bottom, they were pretty well at zero.
A burst of coarse laughter here fell upon my ears, and some snatches of a Spanish song, mingled with which, like a humming accompaniment, was the sound of falling water.
I made a great effort to pull myself together and manfully face my fate whatever it might be; but my nerves, I must confess, had been terribly shaken, and my success was only very partial.
I was determined, however, that I would not flinch from death if our murder had been determined upon, as I felt that it would be casting a dishonour upon our nation not to meet even that terrible fate with calm courage—hard, very hard as it seemed, to be cut off at such an early age, when life was at its brightest epoch.
Having now arrived at the bottom of the steps, I was forced along a smooth sandy floor; my conductors laughing and joking among themselves in an uproarious manner, evidently in the highest spirits, and not afraid of being overheard.
The truth flashed across me in a moment. I was in a cave, deep down under the surface of the ground!
The bandage over my eyes was now removed and the gag taken from my mouth; but the lashings which secured my arms were, I need hardly say, notinterfered with. With very unnecessary force, and before I had had time to look around me, I was pushed down into a corner of the cave, and two swarthy, cut-throat-looking rascals with loaded pistols in their hands were told off to guard me securely. The first thing these fellows did was to rob me of my silver watch and chain, and the small amount of money I had about me.
It was an impressive and weird tableau which met my gaze as soon as my eyes had got accustomed to the semi-gloom of the dimly-lighted cavern, the feeble illumination of which evidently came from natural fissures in the rocky roof, many of them being half-choked with vegetation.
This cave, in which I found myself a most unwilling prisoner, was vast in size and unequal in shape; but I could not see its whole extent from the spot where I lay. The sound of falling water was loud and continuous, and I fancied that there must be a cascade—invisible to me—falling through an orifice in the roof into a pool beneath. Notwithstanding this fact, the cavern appeared to me to be very dry.
My first impulse, of course, was to look for Mr. Triggs and Ned Burton. The former I could not see, and concluded that he had been placed in one of theinvisible portions of the cave; but my coxswain was sitting leaning against the rough wall on the opposite side of our subterranean prison, a very angry and perturbed expression upon his bronzed face. Three armed men closely watched his every movement. Our eyes met, but we did not dare even to make a sign to each other for fear of the consequences.
As near as I could tell, there were about a score of Creole desperadoes grouped about in the cave. They were all well-armed, truculent-looking ruffians, and were, to my intense astonishment, arrayed in a sort of semi-nautical costume, consisting of a striped jersey, white-duck trousers, and sombrero hats, whilst some of them sported gay-coloured kerchiefs knotted around the throat. They were all young men, with the exception of one individual, who at this moment was seated upon a barrel smoking a cigar. He was a man of about fifty, with a fine physique and clearly-cut features; but the expression of his face was cruel, stern, and unbending. He wore a moustache and beard, the latter streaked with grey; and between his eyes some perpendicular lines had been deeply impressed. The dress of this chief—for so I deemed him to be—differed somewhat from that of his followers, as he wore a silk shirtfastened with elaborate studs and with a turn-down collar affixed to it, and a thin blue flannel pea-jacket with plain gilt buttons. He wore no hat, and his hair was curly, dark, and thick, except at the temples, where it was a little worn and tinged with grey. His weapons consisted of a handsome sword and a pair of beautifully-chased silver-mounted pistols; whilst a short cavalry carbine—evidently of the very best make—was reclining against the barrel on which he was seated. At his feet lay a large, fierce-looking Cuban bloodhound, possessed of muscular limbs and cruel-looking fangs. I could not resist shuddering when I looked at this animal, for I felt sure that at a sign from its master it would make short work of any one who had displeased him.
When my eyes first lighted upon this chieftain, of anything but prepossessing looks, I found that he was examining with great curiosity the weapons which had been taken from us by his followers, and his mind seemed specially exercised by the mechanism of the service-revolvers. I remember distinctly that although I was at the time fully expecting to be led away somewhere to be summarily executed, yet I felt nervous at the careless way the chief was handling weapons which were loaded in all their cylinders, andwith the working of which he could have but a very slight acquaintance, if any.
There was a very large assortment of arms stored in every nook and cranny, and hung around the cavern’s rude walls, consisting chiefly of various kinds of swords, scimitars, and daggers. There was also a trophy of pistols and tomahawks, and another of boarding-pikes; whilst a goodly number of rifles and muskets were ranged in rough stands occupying two sides of the cave. The area of the latter appeared to be, as nearly as I could judge, fifty feet in length by thirty in width; but these measurements did not include, of course, those portions which were invisible to me. I could detect no exit from the spot where I lay except the rude steps by which we had descended, but I felt convinced that there was an outlet elsewhere.
Two or three of the chief’s followers were engaged in handing our appropriated weapons to him, and giving him—at least so I presumed—an account of our capture. The remainder of the gang were grouped about in various attitudes in different parts of the cave: some sprawling on mats or blankets spread carelessly on the sandy floor, and engaged in smoking and playing cards; others eating and drinkingwith ferocious appetites; whilst a few more industrious ones were polishing their weapons, or mending tattered clothes and boots, singing or whistling to themselves the while. I could see no signs of a fire or of cooking utensils, or, indeed, of any provisions. The men who were eating appeared to be devouring sausages and coarse bread, which they drew from their capacious pockets, and a strong and very disagreeable odour of garlic pervaded the close stagnant atmosphere of the cave. I was terribly thirsty, and the rushing sound of the waters of the invisible cascade very much aggravated the feeling. I longed to bury my burning lips in the sparkling clear pool that lay, I felt sure, beneath it.
Then the remembrance of the story of the valuable cargo of theFlying-fishflashed across my memory. According to the reports of the spies and guides, all this valuable booty which the mutineers had seized upon was stowed awayin caves well known to their insurgent allies. Well, here was a cave big enough in all conscience to hold the cargo of an ordinary merchantman; but where in the name of all that was wonderfulwas this much-talked-of loot? I could see no traces of it, and I felt sure that my eye embraced the main portion of the giant cave. Stay! theremight be other and smaller caverns opening from this one, in which the spoils might have been stowed for greater safety. I felt sure that this was the solution of the mystery, and longed to go on a voyage of exploration.
Oh that distressing feeling of burning thirst! I at length summoned up enough courage to say in an imploring tone to one of my guardians, “Agua, agua!”
To my surprise the fellow fetched a pannikin of water and held it to my parched lips.
Oh how delicious, how cooling, how like nectar was that heavenly draught!
I was obliged to stop at length with a sigh of gratitude, and murmur “Gracias.”
A slight feeling of hope animated me after this incident, for it struck me that if our instant execution had been decided upon, the very scantiest consideration would have been shown for our wants—indeed that they would not have been considered in any one particular.
That we had fallen into the hands of consummate scoundrels went without saying, of course. A glance at the cruel, repellent visage of the chief, or at those of his swarthy, stick-at-nothing myrmidons, was sufficient to settle that question.
Who were these mysterious individuals?
The more I looked at them, the more I felt convinced that they were not Creole insurgents. At any rate, they were not the same men whose fort we had stormed and whose forces we had dispersed only a day or two previously. Neither did they resemble—except in their olive-coloured complexions—the dashing irregular cavalry which had met with the same disastrous fate. The men into whose clutches we had fallen were much more of the sailor type, and this impression was not given by the cut of their clothes alone. It was also betrayed bythe cut of their jibs, as sailors express it—that is, by their physiognomies having an unmistakable nautical stamp upon them.
Had the Cuban insurgents any vessels under their orders—privateers or cruisers of any kind? I could not answer the question, though I was aware of the fact that the Spanish navy in the West Indies was deplorably weak.
Ned Burton was emboldened by my successful application for water to ask for some too. It seemed to me that his guards went rather grudgingly to fulfil his request. However, I don’t suppose Ned much minded that, so long as he got the water. The enormousquantity he drank without so much as winking actually provoked laughter among the swarthy gang who were watching him.
The rope lashings which bound my arms together were exceedingly painful, and seemed like the cruel fangs of animals gnawing into the flesh. I only knew about half a dozen Spanish words, but I utilized these as well as I could in an endeavour to persuade my guards to relax the tightness of my bonds. Having been successful in one instance, I hoped to be in another. Vain hope! The only result of my appeal was a violent kick from one of the sullen sentinels, which made me heartily wish that I had held my peace.
A burst of ribald laughter rang through the gloomy cavern, echoing on the rocky roof, and drowning for the moment the roar of the cascade.
I saw an angry frown gather upon Ned Burton’s brow, and a flush mount into his cheeks, and felt sure that he was itching to feel his fingers around the throat of my assailant. It would have gone hard with the latter if my brawny coxswain had been free from his lashings. As it was, he had to chafe under the heavy yoke of enforced inactivity, and I had to do the same.
It must have been shortly after this that, in spite of my strange surroundings, I fell fast asleep, and was lost in the world of happy dreams.
It was the sleep of exhaustion, of tired-out nerves, of a bewildered brain. Nature, kindly dame, comes to our rescue on these occasions; and deeply grateful ought we to be to her for her loving care of us.
I do not know at all how long I had been slumbering in the arms of Morpheus, when I was awakened by a hideous uproar—by a perfect babel of angry, excited shouts and vindictive yells.
With my head in a whirl, and scarcely realizing where I was, I strove to rise to my feet. At that instant, however, I felt the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against my temples, and heard a torrent of angry invective from one of my sentinels.