hese noble and generous words of the Viceroy put such heart into the young Spanish soldier that, forgetting his wounds and his weakness, he rose to his feet. Indeed, the blow that struck him down had stunned him rather than anything else, and he would not have been put out of the combat so easily had it not been that he was exhausted by the hardships of those two terrible days through which he had just passed. The terrific mountain climb, the wild ride, the fierce battle, his consuming anxiety for the woman he loved—these things had so wearied him that he had been unequal to the struggle. The stimulants which hadbeen administered to him by his loving friends had been of great service also in reviving his strength, and he faced the Viceroy, his hand in that of Mercedes, with a flush of pleasure and pride upon his face.
Yet, after all, it was the consciousness of having won permission to marry the woman whom he adored and who loved him with a passion that would fain overmatch his own, were that possible, that so quickly restored him to strength. With the realization of what he had gained there came to him such an access of vigor as amazed those who a few moments before had thought him dead or dying.
"But for these poor people who have so suffered, this, my lord," he exclaimed with eager gratitude and happiness, "hath been a happy day for me. Last night, sir, on the beach yonder, I found a mother. A good sister, she, of Holy Church, who, rather than carry the ladders which gave access to the town, with the fearful alternative of dishonor as a penalty for refusal, killed herself with her own hand. She died not, praise God, before she had received absolution from a brave priest, although the holy father paid for his office with his life, for Morgan killed him. To-night I find, by the blessing of God, the favor of your Excellency and the kindness of the lady's heart—a wife."
He dropped upon his knees as he spoke and pressed a long, passionate kiss upon the happy Mercedes' extended hand.
"Lady," he said, looking up at her, his soul in his eyes, his heart in his voice, "I shall strive to make myself noble for thee, and all that I am, and shall be, shall be laid at thy feet."
"I want not more than thyself, Señor Alvarado," answered the girl bravely before them all, her own cheeks aglow with happy color. "You have enough honor already. You satisfy me."
"Long life to Donna de Lara and Captain Alvarado!" cried old Agramonte, lifting up his hand. "The handsomest, the noblest, the bravest pair in New Spain! May they be the happiest! Give me leave, sir," added the veteran captain turning to the Viceroy. "You have done well. Say I not true, gentlemen? And as for the young captain, as he is fit to stand with the best, it is meet that he should win the heart of the loveliest. His mother he has found. None may know his father——"
"Let me be heard," growled a deep voice in broken Spanish, as the one-eyed old sailor thrust himself through the crowd.
"Hornigold, by hell!" screamed the bound buccaneer captain, who had been a silent spectator ofevents from the background. "I missed you. Have you——"
The boatswain, mindful of his safety, for in the hurry and confusion of the attack any Spaniard would have cut him down before he could explain, had followed hard upon the heels of Alvarado and de Tobar when they entered the fort and had concealed himself in one of the inner rooms until he saw a convenient opportunity for disclosing himself. He had been a witness to all that had happened in the hall, and he realized that the time had now come to strike the first of the blows he had prepared against his old captain. That in the striking, he wrecked the life and happiness of those he had assisted for his own selfish purpose mattered little to him. He had so long brooded and thought upon one idea, so planned and schemed to bring about one thing, that a desire for revenge fairly obsessed him.
As soon as he appeared from behind the hangings where he had remained in hiding, it was evident to every one that he was a buccaneer. Swords were out in an instant.
"What's this?" cried the Viceroy in great surprise. "Another pirate free and unbound? Seize him!"
Three or four of the men made a rush toward theold buccaneer, but with wonderful agility he avoided them and sprang to the side of Alvarado.
"Back, señors!" he cried coolly and composedly, facing their uplifted points.
"My lord," said Alvarado, "bid these gentlemen withdraw their weapons. This man is under my protection."
"Who is he?"
"He I told you of, sir, who set me free, provided Donna Mercedes with a weapon, opened the gate for us. One Benjamin Hornigold."
"Thou damned traitor!" yelled that fierce, high voice on the outskirts of the crowd.
There was a sudden commotion. A bound man burst through the surprised cavaliers and threw himself, all fettered though he was, upon the sailor. He was without weapon or use of hand, yet he bit him savagely on the cheek.
"Hell!" he cried, as they pulled him away and dragged him to his feet, "had I a free hand for a second you'd pay! As it is, I've marked you, and you'll carry the traitor's brand until you die! Curse you, whatever doom comes to me, may worse come to you!"
The old buccaneer was an awful figure, as he poured out a horrible torrent of curses and imprecations upon the traitor, grinding his teeth beneathhis foam-flecked lips, and even the iron-hearted sailor, striving to staunch the blood, involuntarily shrank back appalled before him.
"Señor," he cried, appealing to Alvarado, "I was to have protection!"
"You shall have it," answered the young soldier, himself shrinking away from the traitor, although by his treason he had so greatly benefited. "My lord, had it not been for this man, I'd still be a prisoner, the lady Mercedes like those wretched women weeping in the streets. I promised him, in your name, protection, immunity from punishment, and liberty to depart with as much of the treasure of the Porto Bello plate galleon, which was wrecked on the sands a few days ago, of which I told you, as he could carry."
"And you did not exceed your authority, Captain Alvarado. We contemn treason in whatsoever guise it doth appear, and we hate and loathe a traitor, but thy word is passed. It will be held inviolate as our own. You are free, knave. I will appoint soldiers to guard you, for should my men see you, not knowing this, they would cut you down; and when occasion serves you may take passage in the first ship that touches here and go where you will. Nay, we will be generous, although we like you not. We are much indebted to you. We have profited bywhat we do despise. We would reward you. Ask of me something that I may measure my obligation for a daughter's honor saved, if you can realize or feel what that may be."
"My lord, hear me," said the boatswain quickly. "There be reasons and reasons for betrayals, and I have one. This man was my captain. I perilled my life a dozen times to save his; I followed him blindly upon a hundred terrible ventures; I lived but for his service. My soul—when I had a soul—was at his command; I loved him. Ay, gentlemen, rough, uncouth, old though I am, I loved this man. He could ask of me anything that I could have given him and he would not have been refused.
"Sirs, there came to me a young brother of mine, not such as I, a rude, unlettered sailor, but a gentleman—and college bred. There are quarterings on my family scutcheon, sirs, back in Merry England, had I the wit or care to trace it. He was a reckless youth, chafing under the restraints of that hard religion to which we had been born. The free life of a brother-of-the-coast attracted him. He became like me, a buccaneer. I strove to dissuade him, but without avail. He was the bravest, the handsomest, the most gallant of us all. He came into my old heart like a son. We are not all brute, gentlemen. I have waded in blood and plunder like the rest, butin every heart there is some spot that beats for things better. I divided my love between him and my captain. This man"—he pointed to his old master with his blunted finger, drawing himself up until he looked taller than he was, his one eye flashing with anger and hatred, as with a stern, rude eloquence he recited his wrongs, the grim indictment of a false friend—"this man betrayed us at Panama. With what he had robbed his comrades of he bought immunity, even knighthood, from the King of England. He was made Vice-Governor of Jamaica and his hand fell heavily upon those who had blindly followed him in the old days, men who had served him and trusted him, as I—men whose valor and courage had made him what he was.
"He took the lad I loved, and because his proud spirit would not break to his heavy hand and he answered him like the bold, free sailor he was, he hanged him like a dog, sirs! I—I—stooped for his life. I, who cared not for myself, offered to stand in his place upon the gallows platform, though I have no more taste for the rope than any of you, if only he might go free. He laughed at me! He mocked me! I urged my ancient service—he drove me from him with curses and threats like a whipped dog. I could have struck him down then, but that I wanted to save him for a revenge that might measure myhate, slow and long and terrible. Not mere sudden death, that would not suffice. Something more.
"Treachery? My lord, his was the first. I played his own game and have overcome it with the same. D'ye blame me now? Take your treasure! I want none of it. I want only him and my revenge! Liberty's dear to all of us. I'll give mine up. You may take my life with the rest, but first give me this man. Let me deal with him. I will revenge you all, and when I have finished with him I will yield myself to you."
He was a hideous figure of old hate and rancor, of unslaked passion, of monstrous possibilities of cruel torture. Hardened as they were by the customs of their age to hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, the listeners turned cold at such an exhibition of malefic passion, of consuming hatred. Even Morgan himself, intrepid as he was, shrank from the awful menace of the mordant words.
"My lord!" shouted the unfortunate captain, "give him no heed. He lies in his throat; he lies a thousand times. 'Twas a mutinous dog, that brother of his, that I hanged. I am your prisoner. You are a soldier. I look for speedy punishment, certain death it may be, but let it not be from his hand."
"Think, señors," urged the boatswain; "you would hang him perhaps. It is the worst that youcould do. Is that punishment meet for him? He has despoiled women, bereft children, tortured men, in the streets of La Guayra. A more fitting punishment should await him. Think of Panama, of Maracaibo, of Porto Bello! Recall what he did there. Is hanging enough? Give him to me. Let me have my way. You have your daughter, safe, unharmed, within the shelter of her lover's arms. The town is yours. You have won the fight. 'Twas I that did it. Without me your wives, your children, your subjects, would have been slaughtered in Caracas and this dog would have been free to go further afield for prey. He coveted your daughter—would fain make her his slave in some desert island. Give him to me!"
"Old man," said the Viceroy, "I take back my words. You have excuse for your betrayal, but your request I can not grant. I have promised him to Alvarado. Nay, urge me no further. My word is passed."
"Thank you, thank you!" cried Morgan, breathing again.
"Silence, you dog!" said the Viceroy, with a look of contempt on his face. "But take heart, man," he added, as he saw the look of rage and disappointment sweep over the face of the old sailor, "he will not escape lightly. Would God he had blood enoughin his body to pay drop by drop for all he hath shed. His death shall be slow, lingering, terrible. You have said it, and you shall see it, too, and you will. He shall have time to repent and to think upon the past. You may glut yourself with his suffering and feed fat your revenge. 'Twill be a meet, a fitting punishment so far as our poor minds can compass. We have already planned it."
"You Spanish hounds!" roared Morgan stoutly, "I am a subject of England. I demand to be sent there for trial."
"You are an outlaw, sir, a man of no country, a foe to common humanity, and taken in your crimes. Silence, I say!" again cried the old man. "You pollute the air with your speech. Take him away and hold him safe. To-morrow he shall be punished."
"Without a trial?" screamed the old buccaneer, struggling forward.
"Thou art tried already. Thou hast been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Alvarado, art ready for duty?"
"Ready, your Excellency," answered the young man, "and for this duty."
"Take him then, I give him into your hands. You know what is to be done; see you do it well."
"Ay, my lord. Into the strong-room with him,men!" ordered the young Spaniard, stepping unsteadily forward.
As he did so the crucifix he wore, which the disorder in his dress exposed to view, flashed into the light once more. Morgan's eyes fastened upon it for the first time.
"By heaven, sir!" he shouted. "Where got ye that cross?"
"From his mother, noble captain," interrupted Hornigold, coming closer.
He had another card to play. He had waited for this moment, and he threw back his head with a long, bitter laugh. There was such sinister, such vicious mockery and meaning in his voice, with not the faintest note of merriment to relieve it, that his listeners looked aghast upon him.
"His mother?" cried Morgan. "Then this is——"
He paused. The assembled cavaliers, Mercedes, and Alvarado stood with bated breath waiting for the terrible boatswain's answer.
"The boy I took into Cuchillo when we were at Panama," said Hornigold in triumph.
"And my son!" cried the old buccaneer with malignant joy.
A great cry of repudiation and horror burst from the lips of Alvarado. The others stared with astonishment and incredulity written on their faces. Mercedes moved closer to her lover and strove to take his hand.
"My lords and gentlemen, hear me," continued the buccaneer, the words rushing from his lips in his excitement, for in the new relationship he so promptly and boldly affirmed, he thought he saw a way of escape from his imminent peril. "There lived in Maracaibo a Spanish woman, Maria Zerega, who loved me. By her there was a child—mine—a boy. I took them with me to Panama. The pestilence raged there after the sack. She fell ill, and as she lay dying besought me to save the boy. I sent Hornigold to her with instructions to do her will, and he carried the baby to the village of Cuchillo with that cross upon his breast and left him. We lost sight of him. There, the next day, you found him. He has English blood in his veins. He is my son, sirs, a noble youth," sneered the old man. "Now you have given me to him. 'Tis not meet that the father should suffer at the hands of the son. You shall set me free," added the man, turning to Alvarado.
"Rather than that—" cried Hornigold, viciously springing forward knife in hand.
He was greatly surprised at the bold yet cunning appeal of his former captain.
"Back, man!" interposed the Viceroy. "And were you a thousand times his father, were you my brother, my own father, you should, nevertheless, die, as it hath been appointed."
"Can this be true?" groaned Alvarado, turning savagely to Hornigold.
"I believe it to be."
"Why not kill me last night then?"
"I wanted you for this minute. 'Tis a small part of my revenge. To see him die and by his son's hand—A worthy father, noble son——"
"Silence!" shouted de Lara. "Art thou without bowels of compassion, man! Alvarado, I pity thee, but this makes the promise of the hour void. Nay, my daughter"—as Mercedes came forward to entreat him—"I'd rather slay thee with my own hand than wed thee to the son of such as yon!"
"My lord, 'tis just," answered Alvarado. His anguish was pitiful to behold. "I am as innocent of my parentage as any child, yet the suffering must be mine. The sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I did deem it yesterday a coward's act to cut the thread of my life but now—I cannot survive—I cannot live—and know that in my veins—runs the blood of such a monster. My lord, you have been good to me. Gentlemen, you have honored me. Mercedes, you have loved me—O God! You,infamous man, you have fathered me. May the curse of God, that God whom you mock, rest upon you! My mother loved this man once, it seems. Well, nobly did she expiate. I go to join her. Pray for me. Stay not my hand. Farewell!"
He raised his poniard.
"Let no one stop him," cried the old Viceroy as Alvarado darted the weapon straight at his own heart. "This were the best end."
Mercedes had stood dazed during this conversation, but with a shriek of horror, as she saw the flash of the blade, she threw herself upon her lover, and strove to wrench the dagger from him.
"Alvarado!" she cried, "whatever thou art, thou hast my heart! Nay, slay me first, if thou wilt."
HOW THE GOOD PRIEST FRA ANTONIO DE LAS CASAS TOLD THE TRUTH, TO THE GREAT RELIEF OF CAPTAIN ALVARADO AND DONNA MERCEDES, AND THE DISCOMFITURE OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD AND SIR HENRY MORGAN
y, strike, Alvarado," cried the Viceroy, filled with shame and surprise at the sight of his daughter's extraordinary boldness, "for though I love her, I'd rather see her dead than married to the son of such as he. Drive home your weapon!" he cried in bitter scorn. "Why stay your hand? Only blood can wash out the shame she hath put upon me before you all this day. Thou hast a dagger. Use it, I say!"
"Do you hear my father's words, Alvarado?" cried Mercedes sinking on her knees and stretching up her hands to him. "'Tis a sharp weapon. One touch will end it all, and you can follow."
"God help me!" cried the unhappy young Captain, throwing aside the poniard and clasping his hands to his eyes. "I cannot! Hath no one here a point for me? If I have deserved well of you or the State, sir, bid them strike home."
"Live, young sir," interrupted Morgan, "there are other women in the world. Come with me and——"
"If you are my father, you have but little time in this world," interrupted the Spaniard, turning to Morgan and gnashing his teeth at him. "I doubt not but you were cruel to my mother. I hate you! I loathe you! I despise you for all your crimes! And most of all for bringing me into the world. I swear to you, had I the power, I'd not add another moment to your life. The world were better rid of you."
"You have been well trained by your Spanish nurses," cried Morgan resolutely, although with sneering mockery and hate in his voice, "and well you seem to know the duty owed by son to sire."
"You have done nothing for me," returned the young soldier, "you abandoned me. Such as you are you were my father. You cast me away to shift for myself. Had it not been for these friends here——"
"Nay," said Morgan, "I thought you dead. Thatcursed one-eyed traitor there told me so, else I'd sought you out."
"God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the poniard, "I cannot!""God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the poniard, "I cannot!"
"Glad am I that you did not, for I have passed my life where no child of yours could hope to be—among honorable men, winning their respect, which I now forfeit because of thee."
"Alvarado," said the Viceroy, "this much will I do for thee. He shall be shot like a soldier instead of undergoing the punishment we had designed for him. This much for his fatherhood."
"My lord, I ask it not," answered the young man.
"Sir," exclaimed Morgan, a gleam of relief passing across his features, for he knew, of course, that death was his only expectation, and he had greatly feared that his taking off would be accompanied by the most horrible tortures that could be devised by people who were not the least expert in the practice of the unmentionable cruelties of the age, "you, at least, are a father, and I thank you."
"Yes, I am a father and a most unhappy one," groaned de Lara, turning toward Alvarado. "Perhaps it is well you did not accomplish your purpose of self-destruction after all, my poor friend. As I said before, Spain hath need of you. You may go back to the old country beyond the great sea. All here will keep your secret; my favor will be ofservice to you even there. You can make a new career with a new name."
"And Mercedes?" asked Alvarado.
"You have no longer any right to question. Ah, well, it is just that you should hear. The girl goes to a convent; the only cloak for her is in our Holy Religion—and so ends the great race of de Laras!"
"No, no," pleaded Mercedes, "send me not there! Let me go with him!" She stepped nearer to him, beautiful and beseeching. "My father," she urged, "you love me." She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head upon his breast. Upon it her father tenderly pressed his hand. "You loved my mother, did you not?" she continued. "Think of her. Condemn me not to the living death of a convent—away from him. If that man be his father—and I can not believe it, there is some mistake, 'tis impossible that anything so foul should bring into the world a man so noble—yet I love him! You know him. You have tried him a thousand times. He has no qualities of his base ancestry. His mother at least died like a Spanish gentlewoman. My lords, gentlemen, some of you have known me from my childhood. You have lived in our house and have followed the fortunes of my father—you have grown gray in our service. Intercede for me!"
"Your Excellency," said old Don Cæsar de Agramonte, a man, who, as Mercedes had said, had literally grown gray in the service of the Viceroy, and who was man of birth scarcely inferior to his own, "the words of the Lady Mercedes move me profoundly. By your grace's leave, I venture to say that she hath spoken well and nobly, and that the young Alvarado, whom we have seen in places that try men's souls to the extreme, hath always comported himself as a Spanish gentleman should. This may be a lie. But if it is true, his old association with you and yours, and some humor of courage and fidelity and gentleness that I doubt not his mother gave him, have washed out the taint. Will you not reconsider your words? Give the maiden to the man. I am an old soldier, sir, and have done you some service. I would cheerfully stake my life to maintain his honor and his gentleness at the sword's point."
"He speaks well, Don Alvaro," cried Captain Gayoso, another veteran soldier. "I join my plea to that of my comrade, Don Cæsar."
"And I add my word, sir."
"And I, mine."
"And I, too," came from the other men of the suite.
"Gentlemen, I thank you," said Alvarado, gratefully looking at the little group; "this is one sweetuse of my adversity. I knew not I was so befriended——"
"You hear, you hear, my father, what these noble gentlemen say?" interrupted Mercedes.
"But," continued Alvarado sadly, "it is not meet that the blood of the princely de Laras should be mingled with mine. Rather the ancient house should fall with all its honors upon it than be kept alive by degradation. I thank you, but it can not be."
"Your Excellency, we humbly press you for an answer," persisted Agramonte.
"Gentlemen—and you have indeed proven yourselves generous and gentle soldiers—I appreciate what you say. Your words touch me profoundly. I know how you feel, but Alvarado is right. I swear to you that I would rather let my line perish than keep it in existence by such means. Rather anything than that my daughter should marry—forgive me, lad—the bastard son of a pirate and buccaneer, a wicked monster, like that man!"
"Sir," exclaimed a thin, faint old voice from the outskirts of the room, "no base blood runs in the veins of that young man. You are all mistaken."
"Death and fury!" shouted Morgan, who was nearer to him, "it is the priest! Art alive? Scuttle me, I struck you down—I do not usually need to give a second blow."
"Who is this?" asked de Lara. "Back, gentlemen, and give him access to our person."
The excited men made way for a tall, pale, gaunt figure of a man clad in the habit of a Dominican. As he crossed his thin hands on his breast and bowed low before the Viceroy, the men marked a deeply scarred wound upon his shaven crown, a wound recently made, for it was still raw and open. The man tottered as he stood there.
"'Tis the priest!" exclaimed Hornigold, who had been a silent and disappointed spectator of the scene at last. "He lives then?"
"The good father!" said Mercedes, stepping from her father's side and scanning the man eagerly. "He faints! A chair for him, gentlemen, and wine!"
"Now, sir," said the Viceroy as the priest seated himself on a stool which willing hands had placed for him, after he had partaken of a generous draught of wine, which greatly refreshed him, "your name?"
"Fra Antonio de Las Casas, your Excellency, a Dominican, from Peru, bound for Spain on the plate galleon, theAlmirante Recalde, captured by that man. I was stricken down by his blow as I administered absolution to the mother of the young captain. I recovered and crawled into the woods forconcealment, and when I saw your soldiers, your Excellency, I followed, but slowly, for I am an old man and sore wounded."
"Would that my blow had bit deeper, thou false priest!" roared Morgan in furious rage.
"Be still!" commanded the old Viceroy sternly. "Speak but another word until I give you leave and I'll have you gagged! You said strange words, Holy Father, when you came into the hall."
"I did, my lord."
"You heard——"
"Some of the conversation, sir, from which I gathered that this unfortunate man"—pointing to Morgan, who as one of the chief actors in the transaction had been placed in the front rank of the circle, although tightly bound and guarded by the grim soldiers—"claimed to be the father of the brave young soldier."
"Ay, and he hath established the claim," answered de Lara.
"Nay, my lord, that can not be."
"Why not, sir," interrupted Alvarado, stepping forward.
"Because it is not true."
"Thank God, thank God!" cried Alvarado. Indeed, he almost shouted in his relief.
"How know you this?" asked Mercedes.
"My lady, gentles all, I have proof irrefutable. He is not the child of that wicked man. His father is——"
"I care not who," cried Alvarado, having passed from death unto life in the tremendous moments, "even though he were the meanest and poorest peasant, so he were an honest man."
"My lord," said the priest, "he was a noble gentleman."
"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Mercedes. "I said it must be so."
"Ay, a gentleman, a gentleman!" burst from the officers in the room.
"Your Excellency," continued the old man, turning to the Viceroy. "His blood is as noble as your own."
"His name?" said the old man, who had stood unmoved in the midst of the tumult.
"Captain Alvarado that was," cried the Dominican, with an inborn love of the dramatic in his tones, "stand forth. My lord and lady, and gentles all, I present to you Don Francisco de Guzman, the son of his excellency, the former Governor of Panama and of his wife, Isabella Zerega, a noble and virtuous lady, though of humbler walk of life and circumstance than her husband."
"De Guzman! De Guzman!" burst forth from the soldiers.
"It is a lie!" shouted Hornigold. "He is Morgan's son. He was given to me as such. I left him at Cuchillo. You found him, sir——"
He appealed to the Viceroy.
"My venerable father, with due respect to you, sir, we require something more than your unsupported statement to establish so great a fact," said the Viceroy deliberately, although the sparkle in his eyes belied his calm.
"Your grace speaks well," said Morgan, clutching at his hope still.
"I require nothing more. I see and believe," interrupted Mercedes.
"But I want proof," sternly said her father.
"And you shall have it," answered the priest. "That cross he wears——"
"As I am about to die!" exclaimed Morgan, "I saw his mother wear it many a time, and she put it upon his breast."
"Not this one, sir," said Fra Antonio, "but its fellow. There were two sisters in the family of Zerega. There were two crosses made, one for each. In an evil hour the elder sister married you——"
"We did, indeed, go through some mockery of a ceremony," muttered Morgan.
"You did, sir, and 'twas a legal one, for when you won her—by what means I know not, in Maracaibo—you married her. You were forced to do so before you received her consent. One of my brethren who performed the service told me the tale. After you took her away from Maracaibo her old father, broken hearted at her defection, sought asylum in Panama with the remaining daughter, and there she met the Governor, Don Francisco de Guzman. He loved her, he wooed and won her, and at last he married her, but secretly. She was poor and humble by comparison with him; she had only her beauty and her virtue for her dower, and there were reasons why it were better the marriage should be concealed for a while.
"A child was born. You were that child, sir. Thither came this man with his bloody marauders. In his train was his wretched wife and her own boy, an infant, born but a short time before that of the Governor. De Guzman sallied out to meet them and was killed at the head of his troops. They burned Panama and turned that beautiful city into a hell like unto La Guayra. I found means to secrete Isabella de Guzman and her child. The plague raged in the town. This man's wife died. He gave command to Hornigold to take the child away. He consulted me, as a priest whose life he had spared,as to what were best to do with him, and I advised Cuchillo, but his child died with its mother before it could be taken away.
"Isabella de Guzman was ill. I deemed it wise to send her infant away. I urged her to substitute her child for the dead body of the other, intending to provide for its reception at Cuchillo, and she gave her child to the sailor. In the confusion and terror it must have been abandoned by the woman to whom it was delivered; she, it was supposed, perished when the buccaneers destroyed the place out of sheer wantonness when they left Panama. I fell sick of the fever shortly after and knew not what happened. The poor mother was too seriously ill to do anything. It was months ere we recovered and could make inquiries for the child, and then it had disappeared and we found no trace of it. You, sir," pointing to Hornigold, "had gone away with the rest. There was none to tell us anything. We never heard of it again and supposed it dead."
"And my child, sir priest?" cried Morgan. "What became of it?"
"I buried it in the same grave with its poor mother with the cross on its breast. May God have mercy on their souls!"
"A pretty tale, indeed," sneered the buccaneer.
"It accounts in some measure for the situation," said the Viceroy, "but I must have further proof."
"Patience, noble sir, and you shall have it. These crosses were of cunning construction. They open to those who know the secret. There is room in each for a small writing. Each maiden, so they told me, put within her own cross her marriage lines. If this cross hath not been tampered with it should bear within its recess the attestation of the wedding of Francisco de Guzman and Isabella Zerega."
"The cross hath never left my person," said Alvarado, "since I can remember."
"And I can bear testimony," said the Viceroy, "that he hath worn it constantly since a child. Though it was large and heavy I had a superstition that it should never leave his person. Know you the secret of the cross?"
"I do, for it was shown me by the woman herself."
"Step nearer, Alvarado," said de Lara.
"Nay, sir," said the aged priest, as Alvarado came nearer him and made to take the cross from his breast, "thou hast worn it ever there. Wear it to the end. I can open it as thou standest."
He reached up to the carven cross depending from the breast of the young man bending over him.
"A pretty story," sneered Morgan again, "buthad I aught to wager, I'd offer it with heavy odds that that cross holds the marriage lines of my wife."
"Thou wouldst lose, sir, for see, gentlemen," cried the priest, manipulating the crucifix with his long, slender fingers and finally opening it, "the opening! And here is a bit of parchment! Read it, sir."
He handed it to the Viceroy. The old noble, lifting it to the light, scanned the closely-written, faded lines on the tiny scrap of delicate parchment.
"'Tis a certificate of marriage of——" He paused.
"Maria Zerega," said Morgan, triumphantly.
"Nay," answered the old man, and his triumph rung in his voice, "of Isabella Zerega and Francisco de Guzman."
"Hell and fury!" shouted the buccaneer, "'tis a trick!"
"And signed by——"
He stopped again, peering at the faded, almost illegible signature.
"By whom, your Excellency?" interrupted the priest smiling.
"'Tis a bit faded," said the old man, holding it nearer. "Fra—An—tonio! Was it thou?"
"Even so, sir. I married the mother, as I buried her yester eve upon the sand."
"'Tis a fact established," said the Viceroy, satisfied at last. "Don Francisco de Guzman, Alvarado that was, thy birth and legitimacy are clear and undoubted. There by your side stands the woman you have loved. If you wish her now I shall be honored to call you my son."
"My lord," answered Alvarado, "that I am the son of an honorable gentleman were joy enough, but when thou givest me Donna Mercedes——"
He turned, and with a low cry the girl fled to his arms. He drew her close to him and laid his hand upon her head, and then he kissed her before the assembled cavaliers, who broke into enthusiastic shouts and cries of happy approbation.
"There's more evidence yet," cried the priest, thrusting his hand into the bosom of his habit and drawing forth a glittering object. "Sir, I took this from the body of Sister Maria Christina, for upon my advice she entered upon the service of the Holy Church after her bereavement, keeping her secret, for there was naught to be gained by its publication. That Church she served long and well. Many sufferers there be to whom she ministered who will rise up and call her blessed. She killed herself upon the sands rather than give aid and comfort to this man and his men, or submit herself to the evil desires of his band. Sirs, I have lived long and suffered much, and done some little service for Christ, His Church, and His children, but I take more comfort from the absolution that I gave her when she cried for mercy against the sin of self-slaughter than for any other act in my career. Here, young sir," said the priest, opening the locket, "are the pictures of your father and mother. See, cavaliers, some of you knew Don Francisco de Guzman and can recognize him. That is his wife. She was young and had golden hair like thine, my son, in those days. You are the express image of her person as I recall it."
"My father! My mother!" cried Alvarado. "Look, Mercedes, look your Excellency, and gentlemen, all! But her body, worthy father?"
"Even as her soul hath gone out into the new life beyond, her body was drawn out into the great deep at the call of God—but not unblessed, señors, even as she went not unshriven, for I knelt alone by her side, unable by my wounds and weakness to do more service, and said the office of our Holy Church."
"May God bless thee, as I bless thee!" answered Alvarado, to give him the familiar name.
As he spoke he sank on his knees and pressed a long and fervent kiss upon the worn and withered hand of the aged man.
"It is not meet," said the priest, withdrawing hishand and laying it in blessing upon the bowed fair head. "That which was lost is found again. Let us rejoice and praise God for His mercy. Donna Mercedes, gentlemen, my blessing on Señor de Guzman and upon ye all. Benedicite!" he said, making the sign of the cross.
IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN APPEALS UNAVAILINGLY ALIKE TO THE PITY OF WOMAN, THE FORGIVENESS OF PRIEST, THE FRIENDSHIP OF COMRADE, AND THE HATRED OF MEN
nd bless me also, my father," cried Mercedes, kneeling by Alvarado's side.
"Most willingly, my fair daughter," answered the old man. "A fit helpmate indeed thou hast shown thyself for so brave a soldier. By your leave, your Excellency. You will indulge an old man's desire to bless the marriage of the son as he did that of the mother? No obstacle, I take it, now exists to prevent this most happy union."
"None," answered the Viceroy, as the young people rose and stood before him, "and glad I am that this happy solution of our difficulties has come to pass."
"And when, sir," questioned the priest further, "may I ask that you design——"
"The sooner the better," said the Viceroy smiling grimly. "By the mass, reverend father, I'll feel easier when he hath her in his charge!"
"I shall prove as obedient to thee as wife, Don Francisco——" said Mercedes with great spirit, turning to him.
"Nay, call me Alvarado, sweet lady," interrupted her lover.
"Alvarado then, if you wish—for it was under that name that I first loved thee—I shall prove as obedient a wife to thee as I was a dutiful daughter to thee, my father."
"'Tis not saying o'er much," commented the Viceroy, but smiling more kindly as he said the words. "Nay, I'll take that back, Mercedes, or modify it. Thou hast, indeed, been to me all that a father could ask, until——"
"'Twas my fault, your Excellency. On me be the punishment," interrupted the lover.
"Thou shalt have it with Mercedes," answered the Viceroy, laughing broadly now. "What say ye, gentlemen?"
"My lord," said Agramonte, from his age and rank assuming to speak for the rest, "there is not one of us who would not give all he possessed to stand in the young Lord de Guzman's place."
"Well, well," continued the old man, "when we have restored order in the town we shall have a wedding ceremony—say to-morrow."
"Ay, ay, to-morrow, to-morrow!" cried the cavaliers.
"Your Excellency, there is one more thing yet to be done," said Alvarado as soon as he could be heard.
"Art ever making objections, Captain Alvarado—Don Francisco, that is. We might think you had reluctance to the bridal," exclaimed the Viceroy in some little surprise. "What is it now?"
"The punishment of this man."
"I gave him into your hands."
"By God!" shouted old Hornigold, "I wondered if in all this fathering and mothering and sweethearting and giving in marriage he had forgot——"
"Not so. The postponement but makes it deeper," answered Alvarado gravely. "Rest satisfied."
"And I shall have my revenge in full measure?"
"In full, in overflowing measure, señor."
"Do you propose to shoot me?" asked the buccaneer chieftain coolly. "Or behead me?"
"That were a death for an honorable soldier taken in arms and forced to bide the consequences of his defeat. It is not meet for you," answered Alvarado.
"What then? You'll not hang me? Me! A knight of England! Sometime Governor of Jamaica!"
"These titles are nothing to me. And hangingis the death we visit upon the common criminal, a man who murders or steals, or blasphemes. Your following may expect that. For you there is——"
"You don't mean to burn me alive, do you?"
"Were you simply a heretic that might be meet, but you are worse——"
"What do you mean?" cried the buccaneer, carried away by the cold-blooded menace in Alvarado's words. "Neither lead, nor steel, nor rope, nor fire!"
"Neither one nor the other, sir."
"Is it the wheel? The rack? The thumbscrew? Sink me, ye shall see how an Englishman can die! Even from these I flinch not."
"Nor need you, from these, for none of them shall be used," continued the young soldier, with such calculating ferocity in his voice that in spite of his dauntless courage and intrepidity the blood of Morgan froze within his veins.
"Death and destruction!" he shouted. "What is there left?"
"You shall die, señor, not so much by the hand of man as by the act of God."
"God! I believe in none. There is no God!"
"That you shall see."
"Your Excellency, my lords! I appeal to you tosave me from this man, not my son but my nephew——"
"S'death, sirrah!" shouted the Viceroy, enraged beyond measure by the allusion to any relationship, "not a drop of your base blood pollutes his veins. I have given you over to him. He will attend to you."
"What means he to do then?"
"You shall see."
"When?"
"To-morrow."
The sombre, sinister, although unknown purpose of the Spaniards had new terrors lent to it by the utter inability of the buccaneer to foresee what was to be his punishment. He was a man of the highest courage, the stoutest heart, yet in that hour he was astonied. His knees smote together; he clenched his teeth in a vain effort to prevent their chattering. All his devilry, his assurance, his fortitude, his strength, seemed to leave him. He stood before them suddenly an old, a broken man, facing a doom portentous and terrible, without a spark of strength or resolution left to meet it, whatever it might be. And for the first time in his life he played the craven, the coward. He moistened his dry lips and looked eagerly from one face to another in the dark and gloomy ring that encircled him.
"Lady," he said at last, turning to Mercedes as the most likely of his enemies to befriend him, "you are a woman. You should be tender hearted. You don't want to see an old man, old enough to be your father, suffer some unknown, awful torture? Plead for me! Ask your lover. He will refuse you nothing now."
There was a dead silence in the room. Mercedes stared at the miserable wretch making his despairing appeal as if she were fascinated.
"Answer him," said her stern old father, "as a Spanish gentlewoman should."
It was a grim and terrible age. The gospel under which all lived in those days was not that of the present. It was a gospel writ in blood, and fire, and steel.
"An eye for an eye," said the girl slowly, "a tooth for a tooth, life for life, shame for shame," her voice rising until it rang through the room. "In the name of my ruined sisters, whose wails come to us this instant from without, borne hither on the night wind, I refuse to intercede for you, monster. For myself, the insults you have put upon me, I might forgive, but not the rest. The taking of one life like yours can not repay."
"You hear?" cried Alvarado. "Take him away."
"One moment," cried Morgan. "Holy Father—your religion—it teaches to forgive they say. Intercede for me!"
His eyes turned with faint hope toward the aged priest.
"Not for such as thou," answered the old man looking from him. "I could forgive this," he touched his battered tonsure, "and all thou hast done against me and mine. That is not little, for when I was a lad, a youth, before I took the priestly yoke upon me, I loved Maria Zerega—but that is nothing. What suffering comes upon me I can bear, but thou hast filled the cup of iniquity and must drain it to the dregs. Hark ye—the weeping of the desolated town! I can not interfere! They that take the sword shall perish by it. It is so decreed. You believe not in God——"
"I will! I do!" cried the buccaneer, clutching at the hope.
"I shall pray for thee, that is all."
"Hornigold," cried the now almost frenzied man, his voice hoarse with terror and weakness, "they owe much to you. Without you they had not been here. I have wronged you grievously—terribly—but I atone by this. Beg them, not to let me go but only to kill me where I stand! They will not refuse you. Had it not been for you this man would nothave known his father. He could not have won this woman. You have power. You'll not desert an old comrade in his extremity? Think, we have stood together sword in hand and fought our way through all obstacles in many a desperate strait. Thou and I, old shipmate. By the memory of that old association, by the love you once bore me, and by that I gave to you, ask them for my death, here—now—at once!"
"You ask for grace from me!" snarled Hornigold savagely, yet triumphant. "You—you hanged my brother——"
"I know, I know! 'Twas a grievous error. I shall be punished for all—ask them to shoot me—hang me——"
He slipped to his knees, threw himself upon the floor, and lay grovelling at Hornigold's feet.
"Don't let them torture me, man! My God, what is it they intend to do to me?"
"Beg, you hound!" cried the boatswain, spurning him with his foot. "I have you where I swore I'd bring you. And, remember, 'tis I that laid you low—I—I—" He shrieked like a maniac. "When you suffer in that living death for which they design you, remember with every lingering breath of anguish that it was I who brought you there! You trifled with me—mocked me—betrayed me. Youdenied my request. I grovelled at your feet and begged you—you spurned me as I do you now. Curse you! I'll ask no mercy for you!"
"My lord," gasped out Morgan, turning to the Viceroy in one final appeal, as two of the men dragged him to his feet again, "I have treasure. The galleon we captured—it is buried—I can lead you there."
"There is not a man of your following," said the Viceroy, "who would not gladly purchase life by the same means."
"And 'tis not needed," said the boatswain, "for I have told them where it lies."
"If Teach were here," said Morgan, "he would stand by me."
A man forced his way into the circle carrying a sack in his hand. Drawing the strings he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of the only man save Black Dog upon whom he could have depended, his solitary friend.
Morgan staggered back in horror from the ghastly object, staring at it as if fascinated.