We must now return to one of our characters, who up to the present has played but a secondary part in this story; but, as frequently happens, is now called on by the exigencies of our narrative to take his place in the foreground.
We refer to Count Don Stenio de Bejar y Sousa, grandee of Spain of the first class,caballero cubierto, governor for His Majesty Philip II. of Spain and the Indies, of the island of Hispaniola, and husband of Doña Clara de Peñaflor.
Count Don Stenio de Bejar was a true Spaniard of the age of Charles V., dry, stiff, full of pride and self-sufficiency, always with his hand on his hip, and his head thrown back when he deigned to speak, which, happened to him as rarely as possible, not through any want of sense, as he was far from being a fool; but through indolence and contempt of other men, whom he never looked at without half closing his eyes, and raising the corners of his lips disdainfully.
Tall, well built, possessed of noble manners, and a very handsome face, the Count, apart from his determined silence, was one of the most accomplished cavaliers of the Spanish court, which, however, at that period, possessed a great number of them.
His marriage with Doña Clara had been at the outset an affair of convenience and ambition, but gradually, through admiring the charming face of the woman he had married, seeing her gentle eyes fixed on him, and hearing her melodious voice resound in his ear, he had grown to love her—love her madly. Like all men accustomed to shut up and concentrate in their hearts the feelings that possessed them, the passion he experienced for Doña Clara had acquired proportions the more formidable, because the unhappy man had the desperate conviction that it would never be shared by the woman who was the object of it. All Don Stenio's advances had been so peremptorily rejected by his wife, that he at last made up his mind to abstain from them.
But, like all disappointed lovers, this gentleman, who was at the same time the husband—a very aggravating fact in the species, was naturally too infatuated with his own merit, to attribute his defeat to himself, and hence had looked around to discover the fortunate rival who had robbed him of his wife's heart.
Naturally the Count had not succeeded in finding this fancied rival, who only existed in his own imagination, and this had grown into a jealousy, the more ferocious because, as it did not know whom to settle on, it attacked everybody.
The Count was jealous, then, not like a Spaniard, for the Spaniards generally, whatever may be said to the contrary, are not affected by that stupid malady, but like an Italian; and this jealousy made him suffer the more, because, like his love, he was unable to show it; through fear of ridicule, he was compelled to lock it up carefully in his heart.
When, owing to his protection—as had been arranged on his marriage with Doña Clara, of whose previous union with the Count de Barmont he was ignorant—his father-in-law, the Duc de Peñaflor, was appointed viceroy of New Spain, and himself obtained the government of Hispaniola, the Count experienced a feeling of indescribable joy, and an immense comfort inundated his mind. He was persuaded that in America, his wife, separated from her friends and relatives, forced, to live alone, and consequently to undergo his influence, would be driven through weariness and want of something better to do, to share his love, or at least accept it: and then again, on the islands there was no rivalry to fear among a half savage population entirely absorbed by a passion far more powerful than love—a passion for money.
Alas! This time too, he was deceived. Doña Clara, it is true, gave him no more pretext for jealousy than she had done in Spain, but he did not any the more succeed in winning her affections. From the first day of her arrival at Saint Domingo, she manifested the desire to live alone and in retirement, engaged in religious practices; and the Count was constrained, in spite of his fury, to bow before a resolution which he recognised as irrevocable.
He resigned himself; his jealousy however was not extinct, it was smouldering beneath the ashes, and a spark would suffice to make it burst into a more terrible flame than before.
Still, in spite of this slight annoyance, the life the Count led at Saint Domingo was most agreeable; in the first place he ruled there in his quality of governor, saw everybody bend beneath his will, always excepting his wife, the only one perhaps he would have cared to reduce. He had his flatterers, and played the master and suzerain over all who surrounded him; moreover, a thing not to be at all despised, his position as governor secured certain imposts that rapidly augmented his fortune, which various youthful follies had considerably reduced, and he now worked hard, not only to repair the breaches, but to render them as if they had never been.
By degrees, however, the Count succeeded in lulling, if not subduing, his love; he employed one passion to uproot the other; the care of augmenting his fortune made him endure patiently the calculated indifference of the Countess. He had almost come himself to believe that he only felt for her a frank and sincere friendship; the more so because Doña Clara for her part, was charming in everything that did not touch on her husband's passion for her; she took an interest, or at least pretended to do so, in the commercial speculations which the Count did not hesitate to engage in under suppositious names, and at times she would give him, with that clear judgment so eminently possessed by women whose heart is free, excellent advice on very difficult points, by which the Count profited, and naturally took all the glory.
Things were in this state when the episode with the filibusters occurred, which the Major-domo described to Don Sancho de Peñaflor.
This mad struggle of five men against an entire town, a struggle from which they emerged victorious, had caused the Count a rage all the greater, because the filibusters, on leaving the town, had taken the Countess off with them as a hostage. He had then understood how greatly he erred, in supposing that his love and jealousy were extinguished. During the two hours that the Countess remained absent, the Count suffered a horrible torture, the more horrible because the rage he felt was impotent, and vengeance impossible, at least for the present.
Hence, from this moment, the Count vowed an implacable hatred against the adventurers, and swore to carry on a merciless war against them.
The return of the Countess safe and sound, and treated with the greatest respect by the adventurers, during the time she remained in their power, calmed the Count's wrath from a marital point of view, but the insult he had received in his quality as governor, was too grave for him to renounce his vengeance.
From this moment the most formal orders were sent to the leaders of corps to redouble their surveillance, and chase the adventurers, wherever they met them; fresh Fifties, formed of resolute men, were organized, and the few adventurers they contrived to catch, were mercilessly hung. Tranquillity was re-established in the colonies, the confidence of the colonists, momentarily disturbed, reappeared, and everything apparently returned to its accustomed state.
The Countess had expressed a desire to restore her health by a stay of several weeks at the hatto del Rincón, and the Count, to whom her physician had expressed this wish, found it only very natural; he had seen his wife go away with an easy mind, for he was convinced that at the spot whither she was going, she would have no danger to fear, and felt persuaded in his heart that this condescension on his part, would be appreciated by the Countess, and that she would feel thankful to him for it.
She had left therefore, only accompanied by a few servants and confidential slaves, delighted to escape for some time from the restraint she was obliged to impose on herself at Saint Domingo, and fostering the bold scheme which we have seen her carry out so successfully.
It was about an hour after the departure of Don Sancho de Peñaflor, to go and join his sister at the hatto; the Count was finishing his breakfast, and preparing to retire to the inner boudoir to enjoy his siesta, when an usher came into the dining room, and after apologizing for disturbing His Excellency at this moment, informed him that a man who refused to give his name, but declared that he was well known to the governor, insisted on being introduced into his presence, as he had most important communications to make to him.
The moment was badly chosen to ask for an audience, as the Count felt inclined to sleep; he answered the usher that, however important the stranger's communications might be, he did not believe them of such importance that he should sacrifice his siesta for them; he therefore Sent a message to the effect that the governor would not be at liberty till four in the afternoon, and if the stranger liked to return then he would be received.
The Count dismissed the usher, and rose, muttering to himself as he walked towards the boudoir,—
"Dios me salve, if I were to believe all these scamps, I should not have a moment's rest."
Whereupon he stretched himself in a large hammock, hung right across the room, closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The Count's siesta lasted three hours, and this delay was the cause of serious complications.
On waking, Don Stenio quite forgot all about the stranger; it so often happened that he was disturbed for nothing by people who declared they had urgent matters to discuss with him, that he did not attach the slightest importance to their requests for an audience, and the usher's words had completely slipped his memory.
At the time when he entered the room where he usually granted his audiences, and which at this moment was quite empty, the usher presented himself again.
"What do you want?" he asked him.
"Excellency," the usher replied with a respectful bow, "the man has returned."
"What man?"
"The man who came this morning."
"Oh yes, well, what does he want?" the Count continued, who did not know what all this was about.
"He desires, my lord, that you will do him the honour of receiving him, as he states that he has matters of the utmost gravity to tell you."
"Ah, very good, I remember now; it is the same man you announced this morning."
"Yes, Excellency, the same."
"And what is his name?"
"He will only tell it to your Excellency."
"Hum! I do not like such precautions, for they never forbode anything good; listen, José! When he arrives, tell him I never receive people who insist on keeping their incognito."
"But he is here, my lord."
"Ah! well then, it will be all the more easy, tell him so at once."
And he turned his back. The usher bowed and left the room, but returned almost immediately.
"Well! Have you sent him away?" the Count asked.
"No, my lord, he gave me this card requesting me to hand it your Excellency. He declares that, in default of his name, it will be sufficient to secure his admission to your presence."
"Oh! Oh!" said the Count, "That is curious, let me see this famous talisman."
He took the card from the usher's hand and looked at it absently; but all at once he started, frowned and said to the usher,
"Show the man into the yellow room, let him wait for me there, I will be with him in a moment. The deuce," he muttered to himself when he was alone, "it is a long time since this scoundrel let me hear anything of him, I fancied him hung or drowned; he is a clever scamp, can he really have any important information to give me? We shall see."
Then, leaving the room in which he was, he hastened to the yellow saloon where the man with the card already was.
On seeing the governor, the latter hastily rose, and made him a respectful bow.
The Count turned to the valet who had followed him to open the doors.
"I am not at home to anybody," he said; "you can go."
The valet left the room, and shut the door after him.
"Now for us two," the Count said, as he sank into his chair, and pointed to another.
"I am awaiting your lordship's orders," the stranger said respectfully.
Don Stenio remained for a moment silent, and scratching his forehead.
"You have been away for a very long time," he said at last, "well, what has become of you during the last two months?"
"I have been executing your Excellency's orders," the man answered.
"My orders? I do not remember having given you any."
"Pardon me, my lord, if I venture to remind you of certain facts, which appear to have escaped your memory."
"Do so, my good fellow, I shall be delighted at it; still, I would remark that my time is valuable, and that others besides yourself are awaiting an audience."
"I will be brief, Excellency."
"That is what I wish. Go on,"
"A few days after the affair of the ladrones, does not your Excellency remember saying to me in a moment of anger or impatience, that you would give ten thousand piastres to obtain positive information about the adventurers, their strength, plans, &c.?"
"Yes, I remember saying that; what then?"
"Well, Excellency, I was present when you made that promise. Your Excellency had deigned to employ me several times before; as you looked at me while speaking, I supposed that you were addressing me, and I have acted accordingly."
"That is to say?"
"In my devotion to your Excellency, in spite of the numberless dangers I should have to incur, I resolved to go and seek the information you appeared to desire so ardently, and—"
"And you went to seek it," the Count exclaimed with an eager start, though hitherto he had paid but very slight attention to the stranger's remarks.
"Well, yes, Excellency."
"Ah, ah," he said, stroking his chin; "and have you learnt anything?"
"An infinity of things, my lord."
"Well, let me hear some of them. But mind," he added, checking himself, "no hearsays or suppositions, for I have my ears stuffed with them."
"The information I shall have the honour of giving your Excellency, is derived from a good source, since I went to seek it in the very den of the ladrones."
The Count gazed with admiration at this man who had not feared to expose himself to so great a danger.
"If such is the case, pray continue, señor."
"My lord," the spy resumed, for we may henceforth give him that name; "I come from St. Christopher."
"Ah! Is not that the Island where the bandits take shelter?"
"Yes, my lord, and more than that, I returned in one of their vessels."
"Oh, oh," said the governor, "pray tell me all about it, my dear Don Antonio: that is your name, I believe?"
"Yes, my lord; Don Antonio de la Ronda."
"You see," the Count added with a smile; "that I have a good memory sometimes," and he laid a stress on these words, which made the spy's heart bound with joy.
The latter told him in what way he had entered the island, how he had been discovered and made prisoner by Montbarts, who put him on board one of his vessels; how a great expedition had been decided on by the adventurers against the island of Saint Domingo, in the first place, and then against Tortuga, which the ladrones had a plan for surprising, and on which they intend to establish themselves; and in what way, on reaching Port Margot, he had succeeded in escaping, and had hastened to bear the news to his Excellency the governor.
The Count listened with the most serious attention to Don Antonio's narrative, and in proportion as it progressed, the governor's brow became more anxious; in fact, the spy had not deceived him. The news was of the utmost gravity.
"Hum!" he answered; "And is it long since the ladrones arrived at Port Margot?"
"Eight days, Excellency."
"¡Sangre de Cristo!so long as that, and I had not been informed of it?"
"In spite of the utmost diligence, as I was constrained to take the greatest precaution lest I should fall again into the hands of the ladrones, who doubtless started in pursuit of me. I only arrived this morning, and came straight to the palace."
The Count bit his lips, several hours had been lost through his fault; still he did not notice the indirect reproach addressed to him by the spy, for he comprehended all its justice.
"You have fairly earned the ten thousand piastres promised, Don Antonio," he said.
The spy gave a start of pleasure.
"Ah, that is not all," he answered, with a meaning smile.
"What else is there?" the Count remarked; "I believed that you had nothing further to tell me."
"That depends, Excellency. I have made my official report to the Governor-General of Hispaniola, it is true—a very detailed report indeed—in which I have forgotten nothing that might help him to defend the island entrusted to his care."
"Well?"
"Well, my lord, I have now to give the Count de Bejar, of course, if he desire it, certain information which I believe will interest him."
The Count fixed on the man an investigating glance, as if he wished to read his very soul.
"The Count de Bejar?" he said with studied coldness; "What can you have to say that interests him privately, as a simple gentleman? I have not, as far as I am aware, anything to settle with the ladrones."
"Perhaps so, my lord; however, I will only speak, if your Excellency orders me, and before doing so, will beg you to forgive anything that may seem offensive to your honour in what I may say to you."
The Count turned pale and frowned portentously.
"Take care," he said to him in a threatening voice, "take care lest you go beyond your object, and in trying to prove too much, fall into the contrary excess. The honour of my name is not to be played with, and I will never allow the slightest stain to be imprinted on it."
"I have not the slightest intention to insult your Excellency; my zeal on your behalf has alone urged me to speak as I have done."
"Very good—I am willing to believe it; still, as the honour of my name regards myself alone, I do not allow any person the right to assail it, not even in a good intention."
"I ask your Excellency's pardon, but I have doubtless explained myself badly. What I have to tell you relates to a plot, formed, doubtless, without her knowledge, against the Countess."
"A plot formed against the Countess!" Don Stenio exclaimed, violently; "What do you mean, señor? Explain at once—I insist on it."
"My lord, since it is your wish, I will speak. Is not her ladyship, the Countess, at this moment in the vicinity of the small town of San Juan?"
"She is; but how do you know it, since, as you told me you have only been back to Saint Domingo for a few hours?"
"I presumed so, because on board the vessel in which I returned to Hispaniola, I heard something about an interview which the chief of the adventurers was to have in a few days in the neighbourhood of the Artibonite."
"Oh!" the Count exclaimed; "You lie, scoundrel!"
"For what object, my lord?" the spy answered, coolly.
"How do I know? through hatred, envy, perhaps."
"I," he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Nonsense, my lord. Men like me—spies, if things must be called by their proper name—are only led away by one passion—that of money."
"But what you tell me is impossible," the Count observed, with agitation.
"What prevents you from assuring yourself that I speak the truth, my lord?"
"I will do so,¡Viva Dios!" he exclaimed, stamping his foot furiously.
Then he walked up to the spy, who was standing calm and motionless in the centre of the room, and fixed on him a glance full of rage, but impossible to describe.
"Listen, villain!" he said in a hollow voice, half choked with passion; "If you have lied, you shall die!"
"Agreed, my lord," the spy replied, coldly; "but if I have spoken the truth?"
"If you have spoken the truth," he exclaimed, but suddenly broke off, "but no, it is impossible, I repeat!" and seeing a fugitive smile playing round the lips of his companion, he added, "well, be it so; if you have spoken the truth, you shall fix your own reward, and whatever it may be, on my word as a gentleman, you shall have it."
"Thanks, my lord," he replied, with a bow; "I hold you to your word."
The Count walked several times up and down the saloon, suffering from intense agitation, appearing to have completely forgotten the presence of the spy, muttering unconnected words, breaking out into passionate gestures, and in all probability revolving in his head sinister projects of vengeance. At length he stopped and addressed the spy again.
"Withdraw," he said to him, "but do not leave the palace; or, stay, wait a moment."
Seizing a bell on the table, he rang it violently.
A valet appeared.
"A corporal and four men," he said.
The spy shrugged his shoulders.
"Why all these precautions, my lord?" he asked; "is it not contrary to my interest to go away?"
The Count examined him for a moment attentively, and then made the valet a sign to withdraw.
"Very good," he then said, "I trust to you, Don Antonio de la Ronda. Await my orders, I shall soon have need of you."
"I shall not go away far, my lord."
And after bowing respectfully, he took his leave, and withdrew.
The Count, when left alone, gave way for some minutes to all the violence of a rage so long restrained, but he gradually regained his coolness and the power of reflection.
"Oh! I will avenge myself!" he exclaimed.
Then he gave, with feverish activity, the necessary orders that numerous bodies of troops should be sent off to different points, so as to completely invest the hatto del Rincón, to which spot two Fifties were sent, commanded by experienced and resolute officers.
These measures taken, the Count, wrapped in a large cloak, mounted his horse an hour after sunset, and followed by Don Antonio de la Ronda, who had not the slightest desire to leave him, and a few confidential officers, he left his palace incognito, rode through the town unrecognized, and reached the open country.
"Now, caballeros," he said in a hollow voice, "gallop your hardest, and do not be afraid of foundering your horses. Relays are prepared at regular distances along the road."
He dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse, which snorted with pain, and the party set out with the headlong speed of a whirlwind.
"Ah, Santiago! Santiago;" the Count exclaimed at times while urging on his steed, whose efforts were superhuman, "shall I arrive in time?"
We will now return to the filibustering flotilla, which we left sailing freely toward the great North Key, a rendezvous admirably selected, owing to its proximity to Saint Domingo, and exactly facing the island of the Tortoise.
According to their habit, whenever they undertook an expedition, the adventurers had only troubled themselves with laying in a stock of ammunition, and only took two days' provisions with them, as they intended to make descents on the islands which they knew they must pass, and pillage the Spanish colonists settled on them. This was exactly what happened. The filibusters left behind them a long train of fire and blood, murdering, without pity, the defenceless Spaniards, who were terrified at the sight of them, seizing on their cattle and firing their houses after they had plundered them.
The first vessel to anchor off the Great Key was the lugger with Montbarts on board, and commanded by Michael le Basque; on the next day the two brigantines arrived, a few hours after one another.
They came to anchor on the right and left of the admiral, about two cables' length from the coast.
At this period the Great Key was inhabited by red Caribs, expelled from St. Domingo by the cruelty of the Spaniards, and who had taken refuge on this island, where they lived rather comfortably, owing to the fertility of the soil, and the alliance they had contracted with the filibusters.
The three vessels had scarce cast anchor, ere they were surrounded by a great number of canoes, manned by Caribs, who brought them refreshments of every description.
The same evening the admiral went ashore with the greater part of his crew: the other captains imitated him, and only left behind the men absolutely necessary to guard the ships.
At a signal from the admiral, the crews arranged themselves in a semicircle round him; the captains standing in front of the first line.
Behind them were the Caribs, alarmed in their hearts at this formidable landing, whose motive they could not divine, anxiously awaiting what was going to happen, and not at all comprehending this display of strength.
Montbarts, holding in one hand the staff of a white flag, whose folds floated on the breeze above his head, and his long sword in the other, looked round at the men gathered before him.
Most of them were scarce clad, but all were well armed. They had weather-beaten complexions, vigorous limbs, huge muscles, energetic features, and a defiant glance. The adventurers thus collected around this man, who stood haughtily in front of them, with his head thrown back, quivering lips, and a flashing eye, offered a striking spectacle; their savage grandeur and rough gestures were not deficient in a certain majesty, which was rendered still more imposing by the primitive landscape that formed the background of the picture, and the picturesque group of Indians, whose anxious faces and characteristic poses added to the effect of the scene.
For some time the rustling of the crowd was audible, like the sound of the sea breaking on a beach, but gradually the noise died away, and a profound silence fell on all.
Montbarts then advanced a step, and in a firm and sonorous voice, whose manly accents soon captivated all these men who listened eagerly to his words, he revealed to them the purpose of the expedition, which up to this time was unknown to them.
"Brothers of the coast," he said; "messmates and friends, the moment has arrived to reveal to you what I await from your courage and your devotion to the common cause. You are not mercenaries, who, for scanty pay, let themselves be killed like brutes, ignorant for what or from whom they are fighting. No! You are picked men, who wish to know to what object you are advancing, and what profit you will derive from your efforts. Several of our most renowned comrades and myself have resolved to attack in the heart of their richest possessions these cowardly Spaniards, who believed they dishonoured us by branding us with the name ofladrones, and whom the merest sight of our smallest canoes puts to flight like a flock of startled seagulls. But in order that our vengeance may be certain, and that we succeed in seizing the wealth of our enemies, we must possess a point sufficiently near the centre of our operations, to enable us to rush upon them unawares, and so strong that the whole power of Castile may be broken against it in impotent efforts. St. Christopher is too remote. Moreover, the descent of Admiral Don Fernando of Toledo is a proof to us, that however brave we may be, we shall never succeed in fortifying ourselves strongly enough there to defy the rage of our enemies. It was, therefore, absolutely necessary to find a spot more favourable to our projects, a point which could easily be rendered impregnable. Our friends, and myself set to work. For a long time we sought with the perseverance of men resolved to succeed. Heaven has at length deigned to bless our efforts. We have found this refuge under the most fortunate conditions."
Here Montbarts made a pause for several seconds.
An electric quiver ran along the ranks of the adventurers; their eyes flashed fire, they grasped their fusils in their powerful hands, as if they were impatient to commence the struggle promised them.
A smile of satisfaction illumined for a moment the adventurer's pale face. Then, waving his hand to command attention, he resumed;—
"Brethren, before us is Saint Domingo;" and he stretched out his hand towards the sea. "Saint Domingo, the loveliest and wealthiest of all the isles possessed by Spain. On this island several of our brothers, who escaped the massacre of St. Christopher, have established themselves, and are contending energetically against the Spaniards, to hold the ground wrested from them. Unfortunately too few in number, in spite of their bravery, to resist for any length of time the enemy's troops, they would soon be forced to quit the island, if we did not go to their assistance. They have summoned us. We have responded to this appeal of our brothers, whom honour ordered us to succour in the hour of danger. While doing a good deed, we are carrying out the plan so long resolved by ourselves, and at last we have found the impregnable spot we have so long desired. You all know the island of Tortuga, brethren? Separated only by a narrow channel from Saint Domingo, it rises like an advanced sentry in the middle of the sea. It is the eagle's nest, whence we will laughingly brave the fury of the Spaniards. To Tortuga, brethren!"
"To the island of the Tortoise!" the adventurers shouted, brandishing their weapons enthusiastically.
"Good!" Montbarts continued. "I knew that you were men who would understand me, and that I could reckon upon you. Before seizing on Tortuga, however, which is only defended by an insignificant garrison of twenty soldiers, who will fly at the first blow, we must, by protecting our brethren at Saint Domingo, and securing them the territory they occupy, obtain for ourselves useful ports, advantageous outlets, and, before all, the means of easily injuring the Spaniards, and, if it be possible, expelling them entirely from the island, of which they have already lost a portion. Tomorrow, we will proceed to Port Margot, come to an understanding there with our brethren, and arrange our plans, so as to derive both honour and profit from our expedition. And now, brethren, let each crew go aboard. Tomorrow, at sunrise, we will set sail for Port Margot, and in a few days I promise you glorious fights, and a rich booty to divide among you all. Long live France, and death to Spain!"
"Long live France! Death to Spain! Long live Montbarts!" the adventurers exclaimed.
"Let us embark, brethren," Montbarts added. "Do not forget that the poor Indians of this island are our friends, and must be treated as such by you."
The adventurers then followed their officers, and embarked in the most perfect order.
At sunrise, the squadron raised anchor. We need not say that all the refreshments purchased of the Indians were scrupulously paid for, and that no one had reason to complain of their stay at the Great Key. A few hours later the flotilla entered the channel separating Saint Domingo from Tortuga, and anchored off Port Margot.
The Spanish island lay before them with its large mounds, tall cliffs, and its mountains, whose peaks seemed hidden in the clouds, while on the starboard, Tortuga, with its dense, verdant forests, seemed a basket of flowers rising from the bottom of the sea.
They had scarce landed ere a canoe, manned by four men, hailed the lugger. These four men were Lepoletais, whom we have already caught a glimpse of; one of his apprentices, L'Olonnais, and Omopoua, the Carib chief.
The Indian had nearly got rid of the European dress, and resumed that of his nation.
Montbarts went to meet his visitors, saluted them, and led them down to the cabin.
"You are welcome," he said to them. "In a few minutes the other leaders of the expedition will be here, and then we will talk. In the meanwhile, take some refreshment."
And he gave an engagé orders to bring in spirits.
Lepoletais and Omopoua sat down without pressing, but L'Olonnais remained modestly standing. In his quality of apprentice he dared not place himself on a footing of equality with the adventurers. At this moment Michael the Basque entered the cabin.
"Messmate," he said to Montbarts, "Captain Drake and David have just come aboard. They are waiting on deck."
"Tell them to come below. I want to talk with them.".
Michael went out. A few minutes after, he returned, accompanied by the two captains.
After the first compliments, the two officers drank a bumper, then took their seats, and awaited the communication which their chief was evidently about to make to them.
Montbarts knew the value of time, hence he did not put their patience to a long trial.
"Brothers," he said, "I present to you Lepoletais, whom you doubtless know already by reputation."
The adventurers bowed smilingly, and spontaneously offered their hand to the buccaneer.
The latter cordially returned the pressure, delighted in his heart at so frank a reception.
"Lepoletais," Montbarts continued, "is sent to me as a delegate by our brethren, the buccaneers of Port Margot and Port de Paix; I prefer to let him himself explain what he expects from us—in this manner we shall more easily arrive at an understanding. Speak, then, I pray, brother, we are listening."
Lepoletais first poured out a glass of rum, which he swallowed at a draught, no doubt for the purpose of clearing his ideas; then, after two or three sonorous "hums!" he resolved to speak.
"Brethren," he said, "whatever be the name given us—filibusters, buccaneers, or habitants—our origin is the same, is it not? And we are all adventurers. Hence, we are bound to assist and protect one another, like the free companions we are; but, in order that this protection may be efficient—that nothing may weaken in the future the alliance we contract today—we must, like yourselves, find some real profit in the alliance. Is not this the case?"
"Certainly," Michael said, to encourage him.
"This, then, is what is happening," Lepoletais continued; "we buccaneers and habitants are here something like the bird on the tree, continually pursued by the gavachos, who track us like wild beasts, wherever they surprise us, sustaining an unequal contest, in which we must eventually succumb, not knowing today if we shall be alive tomorrow, and gradually losing all the ground which we gained at the outset. This deplorable state of things could not go on much longer without entailing a catastrophe, which, with your aid, we hope not only to avert, but to prevent definitively; by seizing Tortuga, which is badly guarded, and will be badly defended, you procure us a sure shelter in case of danger, an ever open refuge in the event of a crisis. But this is not all; we must secure frontiers, so that tranquillity may prevail in our country, that merchant vessels may not fear to enter our ports, and that we may find an outlet for our hides, our boucaned meat, and our tallow. These frontiers can be easily secured; the only thing wanting is to seize on two points, one in the interior, which the Spaniards call the Great Savannah of San Juan, and which we have christened the Grand Fond. The town of San Juan is but poorly fortified, and merely inhabited by mulattos, or men of mixed blood, whom we could easily conquer."
"Is not the Grand Fond, as you call it, traversed by the Artibonite?" Montbarts asked, while exchanging a meaning glance with L'Olonnais, who was standing by his side.
"Yes," Lepoletais replied; "and in the centre is a hatto called the Rincón, belonging, I believe, to the Spanish Governor."
"It would be a master stroke to seize that man," Michael the Basque observed.
"Yes, but there is little probability of succeeding in capturing him, for he is at Saint Domingo," Lepoletais replied.
"It is possible; but go on."
"The other point is a port called Leogane, or, as the Spaniards term it,la Iguana, or the Lizard, from the shape of the tongue of land on which it is built; the possession of this port would render us masters of the whole western part of the island, and allow us to establish ourselves there securely."
"Is Leogane defended?" David inquired.
"No," Lepoletais answered, "the Spaniards let it fall into ruins, as they do, indeed, with nearly all the points they occupy; through the want of labourers, since the almost utter extinction of the Indian race of the island, they gradually abandon the old establishments, and retire to the East."
"Very good," said Montbarts; "is that all you desire?"
"Yes, all," Lepoletais answered.
"Now, what do you propose, brother?"
"This: we buccaneers will hunt for you wild oxen and boars, and provision your ships at a price agreed on between us, but which must never be higher than one-half the price we ask of foreign vessels that come to trade with us; in addition, we will defend you if attacked, and in great expeditions you will have the right to claim one man in five to accompany you, when you require it. The habitants will cultivate the land, and supply you with vegetables, tobacco, and wood to repair your vessels, on the same conditions as the provisions. This is what I am ordered to propose to you, brothers, in the name of the French habitants and buccaneers of Saint Domingo; if these conditions please you, and I consider them just and equitable, accept them, and you will have no cause to repent having negotiated with us."
These propositions the filibusters were already acquainted with, and had discussed their advantages; hence they did not take long to deliberate, for they had made up their mind beforehand, as their presence at Port Margot proved.
"We accept your propositions, brother," Montbarts answered—"here is my hand, in the name of the filibusters I represent."
"And here is mine," Lepoletais said, "in the name of the habitants and buccaneers."
There was no other treaty but this honest shake of the hand between the adventurers; thus was concluded an alliance, which remained up to the dying day of buccaneering, as fresh and lively as when first made between the adventurers.
"Now," Montbarts continued, "let us proceed orderly. How many brothers have you capable of fighting?"
"Seventy," Lepoletais answered.
"Very good; we will add to these one hundred and thirty more from the fleet, which will give us an effective strength of two hundred good fusils. And you, Chief, what can you do for us?"
Up to this moment Omopoua had remained silent, listening to what was said with Indian gravity and decorum, and patiently waiting till his turn to speak arrived.
"Omopoua will add two hundred Carib warriors, with long fusils, to the palefaces," he replied; "his sons are warned; they await the order of the Chief—L'Olonnais has seen them."
"Good! These four hundred men will be commanded by myself; as this expedition is the most difficult and dangerous, I will undertake it. Michel le Basque will accompany me. I have aboard a guide, who will conduct us to Grand Fond. You, Drake, and you, David, will attack Leogane with your ships, while Bowline, with only fifteen men, will seize on Tortuga. Let us combine our movements, brothers, so that our three attacks may be simultaneous, and the Spaniards, surprised on three points at once, may not be able to assist one another. Tomorrow you will sail, gentlemen, taking with you one hundred and eighty-five men, more than sufficient, I believe, to capture Leogane. As for you, Bowline, you will keep the lugger with the fifteen men left you, and remain here, while watching Tortuga closely. This is the fifth of the month, brothers; on the fifteenth we will attack, as ten days will be sufficient for all of us to reach our posts, and take all the necessary measures. Now, gentlemen, return aboard your vessels, and send ashore, under orders of their officers, the contingents I intend to take with me."
The two Captains bowed to the Admiral, left the cabin, and returned to their ships.
"As for you," Montbarts added, turning to Lepoletais, "this is what you will do, brother. You will go with Omopoua to the Grand Fond, as if hunting, but you will carefully watch the town of San Juan, and the hatto del Rincón; we must, if possible, make sure of the inhabitants of that hatto; they are rich and influential, and their capture may be of considerable importance to us. You will arrange with Omopoua on the subject of the allies he promises to bring us; perhaps it will be as well for the Chief to try and lead the Spaniards on to his track, and force them to quit their positions: by managing cleverly we might then be able to defeat them in detail. Have you understood me, brother?"
"Zounds!" Lepoletais answered, "I should be an ass if I did not. All right! I will manoeuvre as you wish."
Montbarts then turned to the engagé, and made him a sign.
L'Olonnais drew nearer.
"Go ashore with the Carib and Lepoletais," the Admiral whispered in his ear—"look at everything, hear everything, watch everything; in an hour you will receive through Bowline a letter, which you must deliver into the hands of Doña Clara de Bejar, who resides in the hatto on the Grand Fond."
"That is easy," L'Olonnais answered, "if it must be, I will hand it to her in the midst of all her servants, in the hatto itself."
"Do nothing of the sort; arrange it so that she must come and fetch the letter."
"Hang it! That is more difficult! Still, I will try to succeed."
"You must succeed!"
"Ah! In that case, on the word of a man, you may reckon on it—though, hang me if I know how I shall manage it!"
Lepoletais had risen.
"Farewell, brother," he said; "when you land tomorrow I shall be on my way to the Grand Fond; I shall, therefore, not see you again till we meet there; but do not be alarmed—you shall find everything in order when you arrive. Ah! By the way, shall I take my body of buccaneers with me?"
"Certainly; they will be of the greatest use to you in watching the enemy; but hide them carefully."
"All right," he said.
At this moment Michael the Basque rushed suddenly into the cabin, with his features distorted by passion.
"What is the matter, messmate? Come, recover yourself," Montbarts said coolly to him.
"A great misfortune has happened to us," Michael exclaimed, as he passionately pulled out a handful of hair.
"What is it? Come, speak like a man, messmate."
"That villain, Antonio de la Ronda—"
"Well?" Montbarts interrupted, with a nervous tremor.
"He has escaped!"
"Malediction!"
"Ten men have set out in pursuit."
"Stuff! It is all up now; they will not catch him. What is to be done?"
"What has happened?" Lepoletais asked.
"Our guide has escaped."
"Is it only that? I promise to find you another."
"Yes, but this one is probably the cleverest spy the Spaniards possess; he knows enough of our secrets to make our expedition fail."
"Heaven preserve us from it! Stuff!" the buccaneer added, carelessly—"Think no more about it, brother; what is done is done—let us go ahead all the same."
And he left the cabin, apparently quite unaffected by the news.
Let us now tell the reader who these buccaneers were of whom we have several times spoken, and what was the origin of the name given them, and which they gave themselves.
The red Caribs of the Antilles were accustomed, when they made prisoners in the obstinate contests they waged with each other, or which they carried on against the whites, to cut their prisoners into small pieces, and lay them upon a species of small hurdles, under which they lit a fire.
These hurdles were calledbarbacoas, the spot where they were set upboucans, and the operationboucaning, to signify at the same time roasting and smoking.
It was from this that the French boucaniers (anglicised into buccaneers) derived their name, with this difference, that they did to animals what the others did to men.
The first buccaneers were Spanish settlers on the Caribbean islands, who lived on intimate terms with the Indians; hence when they turned their attention to the chase, they accustomed themselves without reflection to employ these Indian terms, which were certainly characteristic, and for which it would have been difficult to substitute any others.
The buccaneers carried on no other trade but hunting; they were divided into two classes, the first only hunting oxen to get their hides, the second killing boars, whose flesh they salted and sold to the planters.
These two varieties of buccaneers were accoutred nearly in the same way, and had the same mode of life.
The real buccaneers were those who pursued oxen, and they never called the others by any name but hunters.
Their equipage consisted of a pack of twenty-four dogs, among which were two bloodhounds, whose duty it was to discover the animal; the price of these dogs, settled among themselves, was thirty livres.
As we have said, their weapon was a long fusil, manufactured at Dieppe or Nantes; they always hunted together, two at the least, but sometimes more, and then everything was in common between them. As we advance in the history of these singular men, we shall enter into fuller details about their mode of life and strange habits.
When Don Sancho and the Major-domo left them, Lepoletais and L'Olonnais had for a long time looked with a mocking glance after the two Spaniards, and then went on building their ajoupa and preparing their boucan, as if nothing had happened. So soon as the boucan was arranged, the fire lit, and the meat laid on the barbacoas, L'Olonnais set about curing the hide he had brought with him, while Lepoletais did the same to that of the bull which he had killed an hour previously.
He stretched the hide out on the ground, with the hairy side up, fastened it down by sixty-four pegs, driven into the earth, and then rubbed it vigorously with a mixture of ashes and salt, to make it dry more quickly.
This duly accomplished, he turned his attention to supper, the preparations for which were neither long nor complicated. A piece of meat had been placed in a small cauldron, with water and salt, and soon boiled; L'Olonnais drew it out by means of a long pointed stick, and laid it on a palm leaf in lieu of a dish; then he collected the grease with a wooden spoon, and threw it into a calabash. Into this grease he squeezed the juice of a lemon, added a little pimento, stirred it all up, and the sauce, the famouspimentado, so liked by the buccaneers, was ready. Placing the meat in a pleasant spot in front of the ajoupa, with the calabash by its side, he called Lepoletais, and the men sitting down facing each other, armed themselves with their knife and a wooden spit instead of a fork, and began eating with a good appetite, carefully dipping each mouthful of meat in the pimentado, and surrounded by their dogs, which, though not daring to ask for anything, fixed greedy glances on the provisions spread out before them, and followed with eager eyes every morsel swallowed by the adventurers.
They had been eating this in silence for some time, when the bloodhounds raised their heads, inhaling the air restlessly, and then gave several hoarse growls; almost immediately the whole pack began barking furiously.
"Eh, eh!" Lepoletais said, after drinking a mouthful of brandy and water, and handing the gourd to the engagé, "What is the meaning of this?"
"Some traveller, no doubt," L'Olonnais answered carelessly.
"At this hour," the buccaneer went on, as he raised his eyes to the sky, and consulted the stars, "why hang it all, it is past eight o'clock at night."
"Zounds! I do not know what it is. But stay, I do not know whether I am mistaken, for I fancy I can hear a horse galloping."
"It is really true, my son, you are not mistaken," the buccaneer continued, "it is indeed a horse; come, quiet, you devils," he shouted, addressing the dogs, which had redoubled their barking, and seemed ready to rush forward, "quiet, lie down, you ruffians."
The dogs, doubtless accustomed for a long time to obey the imperious accents of this voice, immediately resumed their places, and ceased their deafening clamour, although they still continued to growl dully.
In the meanwhile the galloping horses which the dogs had heard a great distance off, rapidly drew nearer; it soon became perfectly distinct, and at the end of a few minutes a horseman emerged from the forest, and became visible, although owing to the darkness it was not yet possible to see who this man might be.
On turning into the savannah, he stopped his horse, seemed to look around him, with an air of indecision, for some minutes, then, loosening the rein again, he came up toward the boucan at a sharp trot.
On reaching the two men, who continued their supper quietly, while keeping an eye on him, he bowed, and addressed them in Spanish—
"Worthy friends," he said to them, "whoever you may be, I ask you, in the name of the Lord, to grant a traveller, who has lost his way, hospitality for this night."
"Here is fire, and here is meat," the buccaneer replied, laconically, in the same language the traveller had employed; "rest yourself, and eat."
"I thank you," he said.
He dismounted: in the movement he made to leave the saddle, his cloak flew open, and the buccaneers perceived that the man was dressed in a religious garb. This discovery surprised them, though they did not allow it to be seen.
On his side the stranger gave a start of terror, which was immediately suppressed, on perceiving that in his precipitation to seek a shelter for the night, he had come upon a boucan of French adventurers.
The latter, however, had made him a place by their side, and while he was hobbling his horse, and removing its bridle, so that it might graze on the tall close grass of the savannah, they had placed for him, on a palm leaf, a lump of meat sufficient to still the appetite of a man who had been fasting for four and twenty hours.
Somewhat reassured by the cordial manner of the adventurers, and, in his impossibility to do otherwise, bravely resolving to accept the awkward situation in which his awkwardness had placed him, the stranger sat down between his two hosts, and began to eat, while reflecting on the means of escaping from the difficult position in which he found himself.
The adventurers, who had almost completed their meal before his arrival, left off eating long before him; they gave their dogs the food they had been expecting with so much impatience, then lit their pipes, and began smoking, paying no further attention to their guest beyond handing him the things he required.
At length the stranger wiped his mouth, and, in order to prove to his hosts that he was quite as much at his ease as they, he produced a leaf of paper and tobacco, delicately rolled a cigarette, lit it, and smoked apparently as calmly as themselves.
"I thank you for your generous hospitality, señores," he said, presently, understanding that along silence might be interpreted to his disadvantage, "I had a great necessity to recruit my strength, for I have been fasting since the morning."
"That is very imprudent, señor," Lepoletais answered, "to embark thus without any biscuit, as we sailors say; the savannah is somewhat like the sea, you know when you start on it, but you never know when you will leave it again."
"What you say is perfectly true, señor; had it not been for you, I am afraid I should have passed a very bad night."
"Pray say no more about that, señor; we have only done for you what we should wish to be done for us under similar circumstances. Hospitality is a sacred duty, which no one has a right to avoid: besides, you are a palpable proof of it."
"How so?"
"Why, you are a Spaniard, if I am not mistaken, while we, on the contrary, are French. Well, we forget for the moment our hatred of your nation, to welcome you at our fireside, as every guest sent by Heaven has the right to be received."
"That is true, señor, and I thank you doubly, be assured."
"Good Heavens!" the buccaneer replied, "I assure you that you act wrongly in dwelling so much on this subject. What we are doing at this moment is as much for you as in behalf of our honour, hence I beg you, señor, not to say any more about it, for it is really not worth the trouble."
"Bless me, señor," L'Olonnais said with a laugh, "why, we are old acquaintances, though you little suspect it, I fancy."
"Old acquaintances!" the stranger exclaimed, in surprise; "I do not understand you, señor."
"And yet what I am saying is very clear."
"If you would deign to explain," the stranger replied, completely thrown on his beam ends, as Lepoletais would have said, "perhaps I shall understand, which, I assure you, will cause me great pleasure."
"I wish for nothing better than to explain myself, señor," L'Olonnais said, with a bantering air; "and in the first place, permit me to observe, that, though your cloak is so carefully buttoned, it is not sufficiently so to conceal the Franciscan garb you wear under it."
"I am indeed a monk of that order," the stranger answered, rather disconcerted; "but that does not prove that you know me."
"Granted, but I am certain that I shall bring back your recollection by a single word."
"I fancy you are mistaken, my dear señor, and that we never saw each other before."
"Are you quite sure of that?"
"Man, as you are aware, can never be sure of anything; still, it seems to me—"
"And yet, it is so long since we met; it is true that you possibly did not pay any great attention to me."
"On my honour, I know not what you mean," the monk remarked after attentively examining him for a minute or two.
"Come," the engagé said with a laugh, "I will take pity on your embarrassment; and, as I promised you, dissipate all your doubts by a single word; we saw each other on the island of Nevis. Do you remember me?"
At this revelation, the monk turned pale; he lost countenance, and for some minutes remained as if petrified; still the thought of denying the truth did not come to him for a second.
"Where," L'Olonnais added, "you had a long conversation with Montbarts."
"Still," the monk said with a hesitation that was not exempt from terror, "I do not understand—"
"How I knew everything," L'Olonnais interrupted him laughingly, "then, you have not got to the end of your astonishment."
"What, I am not at the end?"
"Bah, Señor Padre, do you fancy that I should have taken the trouble to bother you about such a trifle? I know a good deal more."
"What do you say?" the monk exclaimed, recoiling instinctively from this man whom he was not indisposed to regard as a sorcerer, the more so because he was a Frenchman, and a buccaneer to boot, two peremptory reasons why Satan should nearly be master of his soul, if by chance he possessed one, which the worthy monk greatly doubted.
"Zounds!" the engagé resumed, "You suppose, I think, that I do not know the motive of your journey, the spot where you have come from, where you are going, and more than that, the person you are about to see."
"Oh, come, that is impossible," the monk said with a startled look.
Lepoletais laughed inwardly at the ill-disguised terror of the Spaniard.
"Take care, father," he whispered mysteriously in Fray Arsenio's ear, "that man knows everything; between ourselves, I believe him to be possessed by the demon."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, rising hastily and crossing himself repeatedly, which caused the adventurers a still heartier laugh.
"Come, resume your seat and listen to me," L'Olonnais continued as he seized him by the arm, and obliged him to sit down again, "my friend and I are only joking."
"Excuse me, noble caballeros," the monk stammered, "I am in an extraordinary hurry, and must leave you at once, though most reluctantly."
"Nonsense! Where could you go alone at this hour? Fall into a bog. Eh?"
This far from pleasant prospect caused the monk to reflect; still, the terror he felt was the stronger.
"No matter," he said, "I must be gone."
"Nonsense, you will never find your road to the hatto del Rincón in this darkness."
This time the monk was fairly conquered, this new revelation literally benumbed him, he fancied himself suffering from a terrible nightmare, and did not attempt to continue an impossible struggle.
"There," the engagé resumed, "now, you are reasonable; rest yourself, I will not torment you any more, and in order to prove to you that I am not so wicked as you suppose me, I undertake to find you a guide."
"A guide," Fray Arsenio stammered, "Heaven guard me from accepting one at your hand."
"Reassure yourself, señor Padre, it will not be a demon, though he may possibly have some moral and physical resemblance with the evil spirit; the guide I refer to is very simply a Carib."
"Ah!" said the monk drawing a deep breath, as if a heavy weight had been removed from his chest, "If he is really a Carib."
"Zounds! Who the deuce would you have it be?" Fray Arsenio crossed himself devoutly.
"Excuse me," he said, "I did not wish to insult you."
"Come, come, have patience, I will go myself and fetch the promised guide, for I see that you are really in a hurry to part company."
L'Olonnais rose, took his fusil, whistled to a bloodhound, and went off at a rapid pace.
"You will now be able," said Lepoletais, "to continue your journey without fear of going astray."
"Has that worthy caballero really gone to fetch me a guide, as he promised?" Fray Arsenio asked, who did not dare to place full confidence in the engagé's word.
"Hang it! I know no other reason why he should leave the boucan."
"Then you are really a buccaneer, señor?"
"At your service, padre."
"Ah, ah! And do you often come to these parts?"
"Deuce take me if I do not believe you are questioning me, monk," Lepoletais said with a frown, and looking him in the face; "how does it concern you whether I come here or not?"
"Me? Not at all."
"That is true, but it may concern others, may it not? And you would not be sorry to know the truth."
"Oh? can you suppose such a thing?" Fray Arsenio hastily said.
"I do not suppose, by Heaven, I know exactly what I am saying, but, believe me, señor monk, you had better give up this habit of questioning, especially with buccaneers, people who through their character, do not like questions, or else you might some day run the risk of being played an ugly trick. It is only a simple piece of advice I venture to give you."
"Thank you, señor, I will bear it in mind, though in saying what I did, I had not the intention you suppose."
"All the better, but still profit by my hint."
Thus rebuffed, the monk shut himself up in a timid silence; and in order to give a turn to his thoughts which, we are bound to say, were anything but rosy colored at this moment, he took up the rosary hanging from his girdle, and began muttering prayers in a low voice.
Nearly an hour passed then without a word being exchanged between the two men; Lepoletais cut up tobacco, while humming a tune, and the monk prayed, or seemed to be doing so.
At length a slight noise was heard a short distance off, and a few minutes later the engagé appeared, followed by an Indian, who was no other than Omopoua, the Carib chief.
"Quick, quick, señor monk," L'Olonnais said gaily; "here is your guide, I answer for his fidelity; he will lead you in safety within two gun shots of the hatto."
The monk did not let the invitation be repeated, for anything seemed to him preferable to remaining any longer in the company of these two reprobates; besides, he thought that he had nothing to fear from an Indian.
He rose at one bound, and bridled his horse again, which had made an excellent supper, and had had all the time necessary to rest.
"Señores," he said, so soon as he was in the saddle, "I thank you for your generous hospitality, may the blessing of the Lord be upon you!"
"Thanks," the engagé replied with a laugh, "but one last hint before parting; on arriving at the hatto, do not forget to tell Doña Clara from me, that I shall expect her here tomorrow; do you hear?"
The monk uttered a cry of terror; without replying, he dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and set off at a gallop, in the direction where the Carib was already going, with that quick, elastic step, with which a horse has a difficulty in keeping up.
The two buccaneers watched his flight with a hearty laugh, then, stretching out their feet to the fire, and laying their weapons within reach, they prepared to sleep, guarded by their dogs, vigilant sentries that would not let them be surprised.
Fray Arsenio followed his silent guide delightedly, although he was surrendered into the hands of an Indian, who must instinctively hate the Spaniards, those ferocious oppressors of his decimated and almost destroyed race. Still, the monk was glad at having escaped safe and sound from the clutches of the adventurers, whom he feared not only as ladrones, that is to say, men without faith and steeped in vice, but also as demons, or at the least sorcerers in regular connection with Satan, for such were the erroneous ideas which the most enlightened of the Spaniards entertained about the filibusters and buccaneers.
It had needed all the devotion which the monk professed for Doña Clara, and all the ascendancy that charming woman possessed over those who approached her, to make him consent to execute a plan so mad in his opinion, as that of entering into direct relation with one of the most renowned chiefs of the filibusters, and it was with a great tremor that he had accompanied his penitent to Nevis.
When we met him, he was proceeding to the hatto, to inform Doña Clara, as had been arranged between them, of the arrival of the filibustering squadron at Port Margot, and consequently of Montbart's presence in the island of Saint Domingo.
Unfortunately the monk, but little used to night journeys, across untrodden roads which he must guess at every step, lost himself on the savannah; overcome with terror, almost dead with hunger, and worn out by fatigue, the monk had seen the light of a fire flashing a short distance off; the sight of this had restored him hope, if not courage, and he had consequently ridden as fast as he could toward the fire, and tumbled headlong into a boucan of French adventurers.
In doing this, he unconsciously followed the example of the silly moth, which feels itself irresistibly attracted to the candle in which it singes its wings.
More fortunate than these insects, the monk had burned nothing at all; he had rested, eaten and drunk well, and, apart from a very honest terror at finding himself so unexpectedly in such company, he had escaped pretty well, or at least he supposed so, from this great danger, and had even succeeded in obtaining a guide. Everything, then, was for the best, the Lord had not ceased to watch over His servant, and the latter only needed to let himself be guarded by Him. Moreover the monk's confidence was augmented by the taciturn carelessness of his guide who, without uttering a syllable, or even appearing to trouble himself about him the least in the world, walked in front of his horse, crossing the savannah obliquely, making a way through the tall grass, and seemed to direct himself as surely amid the darkness that surrounded him, as if he had been lit by the dazzling sunbeams.
They went on thus for a long time following each other without the interchange of a word; like all the Spaniards, Fray Arsenio professed a profound contempt for the Indians, and it was much against his will that he ever entered into relations with them. For his part, the Carib was not at all anxious to carry on with this man, whom he regarded as a born foe of his race, a conversation which could only be an unimportant gossip.
They had reached the top of a small hill, from which could be seen gleaming in the distance, like so many luminous dots, the watch fires of the soldiers encamped round the hatto, when all at once, instead of descending the hill and continuing his advance, Omopoua stopped, and looked round him anxiously, while strongly inhaling the air, and ordering the Spaniard by a wave of his hand to halt.
The latter obeyed and remained motionless as an equestrian statue, while observing with a curiosity blended with a certain amount of discomfort, the manoeuvres of his guide.
The Carib had laid himself down and was listening with his ear to the ground.
At the end of a few minutes he rose again, though he did not cease listening.
"What is the matter?" the monk, whom this conduct was beginning seriously to alarm, asked.
"Horsemen are coming towards us at full speed."
"Horsemen at this hour of night on the savannah?" Fray Arsenio remarked incredulously; "It is impossible."
"Why, you are here?" the Indian said with a jeering smile.
"Hum! That is true," the monk muttered, struck by the logic of the answer; "who can they be!"
"I do not know, but I will soon tell you," the Carib answered.
And before the monk had the time to ask him what his scheme was, Omopoua glided through the tall grass and disappeared, leaving Fray Arsenio greatly disconcerted at this sudden flight, and extremely annoyed at finding himself thus left alone in the middle of the desert.
A few minutes elapsed, during which the monk tried, though in vain, to hear the sound which the Indian's sharp sense of hearing had caused him to catch long before, amid the confused rumours of the savannah.
The monk, believing himself decidedly deserted by his guide, was preparing to continue his journey, leaving to Providence the care of bringing him safely into port, when he heard a slight rustling in the bushes close to him, and the Indian reappeared.
"I have seen them," he said.
"Ah!" the monk replied; "And who are they?"