The three doubled back towards the chine, which was little more than half a mile away. The Spaniards saw them ere they disappeared among the trees, and followed with loud shouts, quickening their pace when they reached the spot where their comrades lay. But the Englishmen, knowing the ground, came in good time to the edge of the gully, where a steep and winding path led down to the ledge on which the huts were built. From the summit the ledge was not visible.
"Shall we run down at once, or give them a taste of their own lead first?" asked Dennis, halting for a moment.
"Give the knaves a taste, to be sure," replied Amos. "They know not how many we be, nor can they see through the trees; and we must needs check them, to give us time to acquaint our comrades with what is toward, and set our defences in order."
While speaking he had kindled the matches taken from the Spaniards. The calivers were already loaded. Crouching behind the thick bushes that lined the edge of the gully, they fired when they caught sight of the Spaniards advancing among the trees. Two of the enemy fell; the rest halted; and while they stood considering whether to advance, the three Englishmen hurried down the path, guessing that the Spaniards would hardly venture to follow while they were ignorant of the size of the force with which they had to deal.
Arriving at the ledge, Turnpenny gave a hail to the men on the deck of the pinnace, bidding them leave the vessel and bring their arms and ammunition with them. They had been much alarmed by the continued absence of their leaders, and by the sound of the shots, and asked anxiously, when they reached the ledge, what was to be done. Dennis rapidly told them what he had seen from the summit of the cliff, and how for the present the Spaniards had been checked, and then, taking Turnpenny and two or three of the others aside, began to concert a plan of defence.
The position was naturally a strong one. The ledge was accessible only by the narrow path from the cliff-top, and by a few yards of steep ascent from the base of the gully. It was protected from attack from above by the overhanging cliff; it could only be assaulted from below if the enemy got into the bed of the gully, either by coming in boats round the shoulder of the cliff, or by clambering down the sides inland. The gully was forty yards across; the opposite bank was steep and much overgrown with vegetation, trees and bushes growing thick to the very edge. Down the middle ran the stream from the marsh, very shallow after a season of dry weather. On their own side the defenders could pick off the enemy if they came to attack them along the narrow path; they were only in danger if the Spaniards took post on the summit of the cliff opposite, and they could not reach that spot except by making a long circuit about the marsh in which the stream took its rise, or by clambering down the southern bank some distance up-stream, wading through the water and climbing the other side. This would be a matter of an hour or two at least—an invaluable respite which Dennis resolved to make the most of.
He sent one of the maroons up the path to keep watch on the enemy, and another to cross the gully, clamber up the opposite face, and hide among the trees there to give notice of an approach from the north-east. The other maroons, with several of the Englishmen, he set to fortify the extremity of the ledge with a wall of branches, so that the party might be screened from gunshot on the far side. Turnpenny, with the strongest of the mariners, went down to the pinnace, and at the cost of great exertion brought up the falcon and rabinets which formed, with the addition of a saker, her armament. The saker was a muzzle-loader weighing more than half a ton, and too cumbrous to be hauled up the steep cliff; but the falcon was less than half that weight, and the two rabinets weighed only three hundred pounds apiece. The falcon was seven feet long, had a bore of two and a half inches, and threw a shot of three pounds weight, with a similar weight of powder. The rabinet was only two and a half feet in length, its bore was one inch, and its shot weighed only half a pound. Both guns had a point-blank range of from a hundred and twenty to a hundred and fifty yards, and, mounted on the ledge, in embrasures of the extemporized wall, they would prove very effective weapons of defence.
While the guns were being hauled into position, others of the men brought buckets of water, filled at the cliff stream, and emptied them into the casks which during the months spent on the island by Dennis and the sailors had been depleted of the stores they had held when brought from the hold of theMaid Marian. Two casks still remained full of cider, but this having gone sour in the heat, it was poured away, the casks were swilled out, and re-filled with water. It was fortunate that a pure spring welled in the cliff, for the water of the rivulet draining the marsh was unfit for drinking.
All the men worked with a will. They knew not as yet how many the enemy numbered, but since there were three vessels, of which each, if fully manned, might contain from forty to seventy men, they had to reckon with a force that might be from a hundred and twenty to more than two hundred strong. The odds were tremendously against them. All told, they numbered only twenty-six, of whom six were maroons. But they had only two courses open to them: to fight, and at least sell their lives dearly, or to yield, and be shot or hanged or haled away to a slavery worse than death. Not one of them hesitated in his choice.
As a last resort, Dennis had the cave to fall back upon; but he was loath to retire to it until he had made a good fight at the gully, for while, from the ledge on which his hut stood, he could command the entrance of the gully, and to some extent protect the pinnace, the cave was deeper in the cliff and out of sight, and however strenuously the party might defend itself there, the pinnace would then be at the mercy of the enemy. It was true that, even if the pinnace were carried away or destroyed, a canoe could be dug out by the maroons, so that they would still have a means of leaving the island; but Dennis was determined to sail theMinionback to Port Diego and to Francis Drake.
Midday came, and passed. The maroons had finished their wall; the guns were mounted and charged; the water-casks were filled: and still there was no sign of the enemy. But the scouts had not returned, and Dennis began to feel somewhat uneasy. What were the Spaniards doing?
"Have we left aught undone, think you?" he said to Turnpenny, as they sat on upturned tubs eating their dinner.
"Nowt, sir, as I can see. But methinks 't'ud be well to withdraw the muzzles of our guns somewhat. If the knaves come on t'other side and spy them, they may sheer off and seek some other way of troubling us; and I would that they came to close quarters here, where we can strike them down."
"'Tis good counsel. Not perceiving the guns they will be the more emboldened to attack us, and 'twere well we have occasion to teach them a sound lesson."
Accordingly the guns were withdrawn so that their muzzles did not project from the other side of the wall. Hardly had this been done when the nose of a boat was seen shooting round the shoulder of the cliff.
"Lookeedesee!" cried Turnpenny. "The knaves that followed us did assuredly go back to their comrades and tell them of the gully and the path downwards, and they have sent their cock-boat to spy the place from the sea."
"Let us keep out of sight and watch what they do," said Dennis.
The boat, filled with armed men, came under full sweep of oars up the entrance to the gully. When it was still some distance from the pinnace the men rested on their oars, and one rose in the bows to look about him. For some time he saw nothing to indicate that the place was defended, and his fellows in the boat began to talk over the situation, the sound of their voices coming clearly to the men behind the wall. Then, as the boat again moved towards the pool, some one in it suddenly caught sight of the barricaded ledge, and the voices broke out once more in eager discussion. The upshot of this was that they came to the conclusion that the pinnace had been abandoned to her fate, and with a shout of triumph they bent lustily to their oars and came on with the evident intention of securing the vessel.
But they were now within range of the calivers of the defenders. At a sign from Dennis eight of the men stepped forward to the wall, lit their matches, and, resting the weapons on the top, fired when he gave the word. Several of the oarsmen were seen to fall back; the boat came to a stop; and while the Spaniards were hesitating whether to advance or retreat, eight more men sent a hot volley among them, working havoc in the crowded boat. Cries of pain were now mingled with their shouts; the defenders heard a loud word of command; and the rowers began to back water so as not to present the side of the boat to the hidden marksmen. When the boat was out of danger it swung round on the current, and in a few minutes disappeared past the shoulder of the cliff.
Scarcely was it out of sight when the maroon who had been sent up the cliff to the south came running down the path. He reported that he had stealthily spied upon the Spaniards who had been baffled when Dennis and Turnpenny vanished over the edge; they had returned to the southern shore, where they rejoined a larger party which had assembled there. A council had been held on the beach; horns were sounded, no doubt to recall scattered bands who had been ranging the island in other directions; more men had been sent off from the ships; and the whole force, numbering, as near as he could guess, nearly two hundred men, had set off with matches already lighted, marching northward. Moreover, the third vessel, which had been lying off the south-western shore, was working slowly up the coast.
"'Twas from her, without doubt, the boat put off that we have lately routed," said Dennis. "The men aboard will tell what they have seen. What will be the upshot, think you, Amos?"
"Be jowned if I can tell, sir. My counsel is, let the maroon go back and spy upon them. An the knaves march directly northward they will come upon the gully just above us, and methinks, however stout they be, they will not dare to come down the path, where we can shoot them man by man."
It was done as he suggested. Within half an hour the maroon came back with the news that the boat had been run ashore on low ground to the west: many wounded men had been lifted out of it; and the majority of the Spaniards had hastened across country to rejoin the marching force. It halted while a consultation was held; then the march was resumed, but this time in a more easterly direction, which would bring them to the gully at a point about midway between the ledge and the morass, where the banks were sufficiently low and the stream sufficiently shallow to permit them to cross without difficulty.
"They be coming about to fire down at us from t'other side," said Turnpenny.
"Over the wall," added Copstone.
"We can fire back," said Whiddon.
"Zuggers! but twenty of us cannot keep two hundred in check," said Hugh Curder, anxiously.
"Say you so?" said Dennis. "Master Drake with but few more did assault and take a whole town. The Spaniards have learnt the worth of an English mariner; they will not approach us rashly. And they know not the ground as we know it. 'Twill be a matter of time to cross the gully and climb the bank and creep along through the trees on the further side until they face us here. There is—you know it well—a space on the opposite cliff where the trees grow somewhat thin: a space which the knaves must cross an they wish to gain the edge. Might we not ensconce ourselves on the hither border of that space, and fire upon them as they come? We are not able, 'tis true, a poor twenty, to withstand the fervent assault of two hundred; but we can assuredly delay them, and teach them somewhat to respect us, and give time withal for our wall to be increased in height; meseems it is lower than is proper. What say you, lads; shall we do this?"
"But how get back to this our fort, sir?" asked one of Drake's men. "We must fall back before them if they push on, and then methinks they might drive us over the brink, so that we fall headlong to the bottom, and break in pieces."
"Nay, Wetherall," replied Dennis. "We would take two, or even three, calivers apiece, whereby we twenty become sixty, and I warrant me we could do so much damage among them that they would pause ere they resolved to bring it to a push. And while they paused, we should have time to scramble down through the trees and shrubs, and up this side again, and come to our wall, mayhap, before they won to the edge. Assuredly we can do them more hurt yonder than if we wait until they stand in serried mass face to face with us above. Shall we do it, lads, for the honour of England?"
"Ay, ay, sir," shouted the men, fired by his enthusiasm and confidence; and Hugh Curder began to troll—
"And hey for the honour of old England,Old England, Old England!"
The move was instantly begun. Dennis bade four of the maroons weave more branches into the wall. The rest of the men, with two loaded calivers apiece—three were found to be too cumbrous a load—followed Dennis down the cliff, forded the stream on rocks just above the pool where the pinnace and theMaid Marianlay, and clambered up the opposite cliff by a zigzag path, assisting themselves by the branches and projecting roots of trees. Arriving at the summit, they waited only to light their matches, then hurried forward through the undergrowth to the edge of the somewhat open space which the enemy must cross. Each man posted himself behind a convenient tree. For two hundred yards in their front there were only a few scattered trees and bushes. Dennis wished there were time to fell these and so deprive the enemy wholly of cover; but even if they could have been cut down, there was no means at hand of dragging them away, and they would give less protection if left erect than if they lay lengthwise across the space.
About half an hour after they had thus taken up their positions, the maroon who had previously been sent across the gully as a scout came running back to announce that the enemy were approaching. They were marching with great caution, the soldiers blowing on their smouldering matches to keep them alight. Dennis ordered the maroon to post himself behind a tree, and the little party waited in breathless silence for the enemy to appear.
At last one or two men could be seen among the trees on the other side of the clearing. They halted, evidently waiting for the main body to appear before they moved across. Dennis took advantage of the interval to whisper his orders to the men. If the enemy did not come on in a mass, and at the charge, only alternate men were to fire the first volley, then, if they had time, to reload their pieces, still having the second loaded caliver in reserve.
In a few minutes the gleam of the Spaniards' headpieces and shoulder-plates was seen as they joined the advance scouts among the trees. Then, as it were out of the leafy wall, some twenty men marched resolutely forward in closed ranks, clearly without any suspicion that the woods beyond were occupied. Dennis waited until they were half-way across the open space, then he sounded the "Hoo! hoo!" which was the maroons' signal in wood fighting. The calivers flashed from the belt of trees; several of the enemy fell; the rest, startled and confused by this sudden and unexpected attack, rushed back instantly upon the main body, while the men who had fired began in all haste to reload.
But they had no time to complete the priming of their weapons. A shout was heard from beyond the clearing. Immediately afterwards a tall Spaniard, whom his dress marked out as an officer, dashed forward at the top of his speed, carrying a short heavy pistol of the kind known to Englishmen as "daggs." With a yell the whole body followed at his heels. For a moment it seemed to Dennis that nothing could stay the rush; he and his little party must be overwhelmed. But he called aloud to his men to hold their fire until the Spaniards should come within point-blank range. One man, Nick Joland, in sheer nervousness, fired wildly before the proper time; but the rest, being old mariners who had borne a part in many a scrimmage before, had sufficient self-command to obey his orders.
On came the Spaniards, and some of the waiting Englishmen knew them to be trained soldiers, infantrymen reputed the finest in the world. But none of the seamen quailed. They knew what was at stake. When the enemy were within forty paces Dennis gave the word. Twenty calivers sped forth their deadly missiles, and every shot took effect. Even the splendid courage and discipline of the Spanish soldiery was unequal to the strain put upon it. Twenty of them lay writhing or motionless upon the ground; the mass behind recoiled, and fled to cover, some to the few trees and shrubs that dotted the open space, others to the thick wood beyond.
Among those who had been struck down was the gallant captain. He had just risen on one knee when one of his men sprang from the shattered ranks to his assistance. Reckless of consequences, the brave fellow rushed to the middle of the clearing, fully exposed to the marksmen, and, lifting the wounded officer, carried him bodily among the trees. His courage drew a great cheer from the Englishmen, not one of whom raised his weapon to shoot.
"My heart, 'tis a brave lad," roared Turnpenny; "and withal a mighty."
The advance had been checked; the enemy had disappeared; but the voice of another officer was heard haranguing the men. Soon bullets began to spatter among the trees behind which the Englishmen lurked, and there were signs that the Spaniards were spreading out with the object of taking them in flank. It was time to retreat if they were not to be cut off. The enemy's movement would take some time,—after their check they would hesitate to make another direct attack across the clearing; and Dennis hoped to be able to clamber down the cliff and regain the ledge before the Spaniards discovered that their opponents had disappeared. The word was passed quietly along the line; the men snatched up their weapons; and running fleetly to the edge, leapt, rolled, swung themselves down with all possible haste.
They had crossed the stream and were half-way up the opposite side when the movement was seen by one of a flanking party of the Spaniards. A loud cry proclaimed his discovery of their flight; he fired his caliver, and Hugh Curder gave a yell; the bullet had struck his foot. But by the time other Spaniards had come to the brink of the cliff, and, kneeling down, fired across the gully, the whole party had reached the ledge, and dropped down panting behind the wall, where for the moment they were safe.
Bullets pattered upon the wall and the cliff behind; but Dennis and his men, lying low, took no hurt, and made no reply to the Spaniards' fire. This presently ceased, and Dennis, peering with caution through one of the embrasures in the wall, saw the summit of the opposite cliff lined with the enemy, who were clearly examining the position with careful interest, and discussing it with animation. At length, firing one or two shots as by way of farewell, they withdrew from the edge and disappeared among the trees.
"God be praised for all his mercies," said Amos, rising to his feet. "But I know not what is to be the end of this."
"Nor I," said Dennis. "'Tis not to be believed they have left us altogether, but rather that they have retired to consider of the next move. They can do us no hurt from the cliff yonder except they bring great guns from their ships to bombard us. Nor can they assault us from below, for the ascent is steep, and however bold they may be, they will not come up merely to be shot at. We must e'en wait and be ready."
"Ay, and think on Jan Biddle and what his villainous knavery has brought us to. But for him we should by this be snug in Plimworth, a-kissing of our wives and little ones—those that have them. Ah! sweet Margery Tutt! What a power of mischief one base villain can do!"
The day passed in quietude, the men cleaning their weapons and still further strengthening the wall. The tide rose in the gully, gently dandling the pinnace as she lay at anchor in the pool. Many a longing glance was cast at the little craft, many a sigh broke from the breasts of the mariners as they saw in imagination the dear cliffs of England, which even the most confident among them scarcely hoped ever to behold again.
Darkness fell. Nothing was heard save the rumble of the surf beyond the entrance of the gully, and the lapping of the waves against the base of the cliffs. Looking seawards, in the starlight Dennis saw the mouth of the little harbour like a deep blue cleft in the blackness. He had just divided the company into watches, to keep guard over the ledge while the others slept, when Juan the maroon caught his arm and pointed to a small dark patch at the bottom of the cleft. It seemed to be moving towards them. At the same time there was a series of flashes from the cliff opposite; bullets flew among them, one hitting Ned Whiddon in the arm. Instantly all the men sank below the level of the wall, and Dennis, crouching close against it, looked through one of the embrasures at that dark object slowly approaching up the gully, looming larger every moment.
The meaning of it had already flashed upon him. A boat, perhaps the same as had appeared earlier in the day, was coming in to cut out the pinnace. The outbreak of firing from the cliff was intended to mask the movement and deter the defenders from interfering.
"You see their cunning," said Dennis to Turnpenny, who had crept to his side. "By day they would not dare come within the range of our calivers; they know that by night we can but fire at random, and endamage them little."
"My heart, but we must save the pinnace!" said Turnpenny. "She is all our hope and salvation."
"Not all, Amos," replied Dennis. "You forget the canoe which the maroons built for us; they will build another. But I am not content to lose theMinion; how could we face Master Drake and confess we had lost her? I would fain save her, but how?"
"Ah, if we had but torches to light the scene!" said Tom Copstone—"like to those we had at Fort Aguila yonder."
"Thanks for that word!" cried Dennis. "Quick, Amos, into the shed! I bethink me there are barrels of oil that we did not place aboard theMirandola. Broach one, man; tear some of your garments into rags and plentifully soak them in the oil. These we will light and fling down into the pool."
Skipping back from the wall, Turnpenny and Copstone went into the shed and crept back in less than two minutes with armfuls of drenched rags. These they kindled and threw hastily over into the pool below. The enemy opposite poured in a hotter fire, but the little company kept close and none was hit. The device was not a moment too soon. By the light of the blazing rags it could be seen that the Spaniards had swarmed on board the pinnace, hauled up her anchor, and fastened her head rope to their boat. She was indeed already moving slowly towards the sea.
"Fire, my lads!" cried Dennis. "Let them not all escape."
Half a dozen of the men leapt forward, and, heedless of the enemy's bullets, discharged their calivers at the men on the deck of the pinnace. Cries proclaimed that some at any rate had hit the mark; but in an instant afterwards theMinion'sdeck was clear, the Spaniards having sprung overboard or gone below. Still the vessel slowly receded. As she was between the towing-boat and the ledge, the rowers were protected from the Englishmen's bullets, and they uttered a derisive yell as foot by foot they drew the vessel nearer the sea.
"The falconet, Amos!" cried Dennis. "'Tis time to use our ordnance."
"But we be too high, sir. I cannot lower the muzzle so as to bear on the pinnace."
"You will be able to do that as she draws nearer the shoulder of the cliff. Lay the gun in readiness."
"Zuggers, sir, but if I hit the poor little craft 'twill smash her."
"I care not. If we cannot keep her whole, neither shall the Spaniards have her whole. Lay the gun, man."
"My heart, and so I will, and the knaves shall have a plumper, od-rat-en!"
The entrance to the gully was dimly lit by the burning rags floating in the wake of the pinnace. Amos had shoved the gun through the embrasure, and, with his eye along its upper surface, watched the little vessel as she floated on towards the open sea. The firing opposite had now ceased; it was as though the Spaniards, sure of success, disdained to waste more powder and shot. Apparently they were watching the departing pinnace with so much interest that they had not observed the muzzle of the falconet projecting from the wall.
The vessel was now at the very entrance of the gully. In another half minute she would round the shoulder of the cliff and disappear. But before that half minute was past there was a flash from the ledge; a round shot flew seawards; and next moment there were shrieks from the Spaniards who, now that they were out of range of the defenders' small arms, had again come on deck. The shot had struck the vessel square astern. Her rudder was shattered; she swung round on the tide, and in another instant ran aground on a shoal and stuck fast.
A mighty cheer rose from the ledge when the men saw the effect of Turnpenny's shot.
"'Twas famous, Haymoss," cried Copstone. "Man, 'twas a thumping twack!"
And Hugh Curder in his glee lifted up his voice:
"Then next the blacksmith he came in,And said 'Twas mighty hot!'"
"Smother you!" cried Turnpenny. "Think of the little poor craft yonder; 'tis like striking a 'ooman, and goes to my heart."
"But 'ee'd do that in kindness, Haymoss," said Copstone. "See, the knaves cannot pull her off; she be firm on the rocks, and with the tide falling they'll never move her. They'll think twice before they try that same device again."
An angry volley from the cliff opposite set them all scurrying again to cover behind the wall. It proved as Copstone had said. After vainly endeavouring for some time to haul the pinnace from the shoal, the occupants of the boat cast off the rope and disappeared. The flames of the burning rags went out one by one; black darkness settled over the gully; quietness reigned all around; and leaving three men to keep the first watch, the rest drew their garments around them and sought sleep, wondering what the coming day might have in store.
Dennis passed a miserable night. He could not share the childlike elation which Turnpenny's successful shot had produced in the minds of the mariners. He felt that this enemy was not to be baulked; every little set-back would only strengthen the Spaniards' resolve to crush their opponents; and by this time they could be in no doubt how small was the company resisting them. His head ached with thinking before he fell asleep, and when he woke, before dawn, it was with throbbing temples and anxious heart.
And when he got up and looked towards the sea, he felt his spirit die within him; for there, just past the shoulder of the cliff and some distance out to sea, lay one of the enemy's vessels, moored at a point which he had fondly believed to be unapproachable by any craft of her size. She had been descried by the men of the last watch, but the meaning of the move was not clear to them as it was instantly to him. The ledge was just within range of her guns, for although the shoulder of the cleft hid the pool from any vessel in the main channel, it was just within sight from the spot to which the enemy's vessel had worked.
"Jaykle! the skipper must be rare and bold," cried Turnpenny.
"And a mariner of right good skill," said Dennis.
But their admiration was turned to grave alarm when, with a roar, the whole of the vessel's broadside was suddenly fired, and the round shot came hurtling up the gully. To reply was impossible. The small guns on the ledge were too light to carry the distance. And there was nothing to be hoped for from bad marksmanship on the enemy's part. The first discharge had no effect except to displace masses of rock and earth from the cliff below the ledge.
"They cannot raise their muzzles high enough to hit the ledge," cried Turnpenny in delight.
But this fond hope was shattered at the next broadside. One shot struck the hut; another tore a great gap in the wall; a third chipped off large pieces of rock; several men were wounded.
"Our wall is vain now," said Dennis. "Another shot will tear it away, and we shall have no defence against the calivers of the enemy when they again appear on the cliff. Ah! and there they come. We must run for the cave, Amos; 'tis our last refuge. Lead the men thither; let them carry our arms and munitions, and what water and stores they can. I and Copstone and one or two more will strive to make reply to the enemy while aught of our wall remains."
Bullets were already falling on the ledge. Led by Turnpenny, most of the men, loaded with things, scuttled along the face of the cliff into the thicket that half concealed the mouth of the cave. Dennis with three companions fired back at the opposite cliff; but in a few minutes another volley of round shot came crashing up the gully, and scarcely a man on the ledge but was wounded by splinters of rock, though none was directly hit by the shot. It was hopeless to cling to the position longer.
"Follow me, lads," cried Dennis; and, rushing down the ledge to where it widened and was overgrown with bushes, he and his comrades joined the others safely in the cave.
"Save us all!" cried Turnpenny, "we be like rats in a trap."
"The knaves cannot get at us, for this present at least," said Copstone.
"True, not without being well whopped; but they can block up the entrance, and keep us mewed up until we must either yield or starve, or perish of thirst."
"Keep a good heart," said Dennis, cheerfully. "We will not yield or starve yet. Since I set sail from England in theMaid Marianyonder many a marvellous thing has befallen me. I met a countryman when I had given up hope! Why may not things we do not foresee happen again?"
"Ay, true," said one of Drake's men; "and perchance Master Francis himself may come to our aid."
"That is but a poor chance," said Dennis. "It were better we trust in God and our own wit. We are safe at present; let us see what shelter our cave affords; I confess I have not hitherto fully explored it."
Lighting a torch, he walked inwards, with two or three of the men, and found after a few yards that the floor sloped slightly downwards, and that the cave widened out on both sides, so that, if the enemy discovered it, and fired into the opening, the inmates could find shelter out of the line of fire. The air was close, but as it did not become oppressive so soon as Dennis expected, he was tempted to believe that there was a hole somewhere in the roof which served to ventilate the cave. But though he looked carefully along the whole vault, which extended for some thirty yards into the cliff, he found no such opening, and concluded that the comparative freshness of the air was due merely to the spaciousness of the cave and the width of its mouth.
The day wore away in quiet. Careful watch was kept at the opening, and occasionally Spaniards were seen moving up and down the gully and on the opposite cliff; but no assault was made, and it seemed as though the enemy was content to wait until hunger and thirst had done their work. An inspection of the stores showed that there was only two days' food; all the water they had was contained in three buckets; and this, in that climate, and the state of excitement to which the men were wound up, was but a pitiful supply if the investment was to be protracted. Especially was it unfortunate seeing that several men were wounded, some seriously. Their injuries were dressed as carefully as possible with the limited appliances at hand; but in the course of the day one poor fellow died, and was solemnly buried in a grave dug with their weapons in the floor.
Among the occupants of the cave was Mirandola. The monkey had taken refuge in a tree while the fighting was in progress, and Dennis thought that the poor animal would certainly flee to the woody interior of the island, far away from the din and turmoil. But at nightfall the monkey stole into the cave, and attached himself to Dennis, whom he followed about like a shadow.
The hours of darkness dragged slowly along. Almost as soon as it was light, a round shot came crashing into the opening, scattering stones and earth in all directions. The Spaniards' inaction during the previous day was explained: they had evidently brought from the vessel in the offing a gun, perhaps more than one, and mounted it on the opposite cliff. The effect of the shot, which luckily harmed no one, was to send the men in all haste to the sides of the cave. But the crash and the smoke made Mirandola shriek with fright. He ran deeper into the cave, and when Dennis, with a torch, followed to soothe his terror, he discovered that the poor beast had taken refuge on the top of an irregular pillar of rock that stood out from the wall about three quarters of the way from the entrance. He tried to coax the monkey to descend, but without avail. The top of the pillar being beyond his reach, he called Turnpenny, and, climbing on to the mariner's broad shoulders, reached up to seize the monkey. But Mirandola retreated and disappeared.
"The beast is deaved, to be sure," said Turnpenny, "and lacks his little wit. Let him bide, sir."
"Nay, he has been our partner so long that I am not willing to lose him, and he will surely be stifled if we do not bring him nearer the opening. Hoist me, Amos."
He swarmed to the top of the rock, the sailor handing up the torch after him. It took a few moments to become accustomed to the blackness, and in the red flickering light he failed to see any sign of the monkey. But he perceived with surprise that the pillar did not abut immediately on the wall, as he had supposed. Behind it he saw what appeared to be a deep black hole, which seemed deeper when he inserted his torch. Into this Mirandola, his nerves completely unstrung by the shattering explosion, must have run for refuge.
Dennis crawled in, and holding the torch over his head, was still more amazed to find that he had come to the entrance of a second cave, apparently larger than the first. The floor of it was many feet below him: he hesitated to risk a dislocation of his ankle if he sprang down; so he retreated, and called to Turnpenny, informing him of his discovery.
"Sling up a rope," he said; "you and Copstone keep a firm hold upon it on your side, while I let myself down on the other side and see what is beyond."
Lowering himself through the aperture, he found the monkey sitting on the floor.
"Come, Mirandola," he said, "you taught me the merits of some of the fruits of this island; hast more to teach me, old friend? Let us go on together."
He found that the floor of this cave also inclined downwards, and he went very cautiously, lest he should come unawares upon a chasm and fall headlong to his doom. The atmosphere was damp and close, but not foul, and as he proceeded he saw by the flickering of the torch that there was a slight current of air. No wall blocked his way, but by and by the cave narrowed and the roof came lower, and he had to stoop, and at last to crawl, to avoid knocking his head. He had still not reached the end of what was now a tunnel, when the torch went out. For a moment he hesitated whether to go on in the darkness; then, deciding that it was not worth while to run any risks when he could procure another light within a few minutes, he hurried back, got another and a larger torch, and asked Turnpenny to accompany him.
The two together came to the spot where the first torch had been left, and went on. The rough irregular fissure grew no narrower, but its slope became steeper at every yard.
"God-a-mercy, it likes me not!" murmured Turnpenny, who was filled with superstitious fears in face of the unknown. "Meseems we be going down into the very bowels of the earth, or mayhap lower. Dost fear no goblins? Dost not think we may come upon the Old Smoker?"
"Never a whit, Amos. Why, man, the floor here is wet. Touch it with your hand. And as I live, here are seaweeds and shells! And look; surely that is a glint of light yonder that comes not from our torch. Here is a very pool; duck your head, man; I gave mine a rare crack just then, the roof comes so low. Crawl after me. I smell the sea, Amos; and ah! look! here we are on the shore. Have a care; we must not be spied."
Crawling actually through the water, they found themselves on the shore at a point not far north of the spot where Dennis had first opened his eyes on the island. The hole in the cliff was almost hidden by the overhanging plants. Mirandola had halted; to go through water was not to his taste. Cautiously raising themselves, Dennis and Turnpenny parted the screening leaves and looked out to sea. There, a little distance out, was the vessel that had fired on them. The tide was low; she had had to shift her position further into the main channel. In the little bay which here indented the shore a boat lay on the sand, two Spaniards leaning against its side, keeping guard over it, no doubt, while their comrades were engaged in investing the cave.
"One thing is plain," whispered Dennis; "here at least is a way of retreat should we no longer be able to remain in our cave. And when water fails, we can creep out by the hole in the night time, and fill our buckets at one of the rills that trickle from the cliff."
"Ah! that is something, sir," said Turnpenny, "but I would fain knock those knaves yonder on the head and take their boat. We might then make a shift to row away from this isle."
"A good wish, Amos, but hard to come by. We could not do it in daylight, and methinks the Spaniards would not do us the grace to leave their boat here on the shore for us to make free with at night. But assuredly we can keep a better watch on them here than from the cave above, where we cannot show a head but with great peril; let us therefore return and send one of the maroons hither as a sentinel."
There was great excitement among the men when they were told of this discovery. Though it seemed impossible that the passage to the sea could avail them much, the knowledge that it was open to them gave just that dash of comfort which is all the world to men in extremity. And when, as the day wore on, the enemy's guns began to play regularly on the mouth of the cave, and brought down in front of it great masses of the cliff above, they did not get into a state of panic, but almost gaily made air-holes through the loosely piled earth with their weapons, chuckling at the thought that the besiegers were no doubt flattering themselves with the supposition that the hapless garrison was being gradually entombed.
But it seemed to Dennis that an attempt should be made to turn this strange discovery to account. Clearly it was possible to leave the cave, but supposing they all made their way to the shore, what then? They might take to the woods in the centre of the island, and for a time, perhaps, elude the enemy; but it would only be a matter of days before they must be hunted down. They could not, a mere handful, risk a stand-up fight against a force six or seven times their number. And it was in the highest degree unlikely that the enemy would leave any of their boats on shore during the night. Still, there was just a chance that a boat might be so left, and Dennis arranged that Juan the maroon should go before dark to the exit on the shore, to see what he could discover of the Spaniards' arrangements, and then to steal up the cliff and learn how they encamped during the night.
The night was still young when the maroon returned. He had seen the boat put off, conveying officers to the vessel. Then, waiting until it was dark, he had climbed the cliff, and found that the enemy had formed a camp on the summit immediately above the ledge, at some little distance from the brink. No pickets were posted; the Spaniards had evidently recognized the hopelessness of any attempt to escape either up or down the gully.
Juan had then crept round to the northern cliff, and discovered that the two guns which had played on the cave during the day were left in charge of two men. Dennis was somewhat surprised that the main camp of the enemy had not been made there instead of on the southern cliff, until he remembered that only on the latter were there springs of fresh water.
"'Tis as I feared, you see," he said to Turnpenny. "The boat returns to the ship at night—just as the boat was wont to return to your lumber-ship. It was but a poor hope, and that is dashed."
"And so 'tis. The only thing that we poor souls could do would be to crawl out by the hole, and fetch a long compass to the cliff yonder where the guns be, and blow them up for the knaves. If there be but two men guarding them, 't'ud be no hard feat."
Dennis did not reply. He seemed to have fallen into a brown study.
"I'se warrant I could do it, with Tom Copstone and Juan, and maybe another of the maroons. 'T'ud not save us, to be sure, but 't'ud at least give the knaves a turn, od rabbit en!"
"Amos," said Dennis with apparent inconsequence, "if you were a Spanish officer——"
"God forbid, sir!" interrupted the seaman, fervently.
"It is impossible, I own. Still, if you were a Spanish officer aboard that vessel yonder, and in the blackest hour of night you heard a great uproar on this island, and saw the flashing of guns, what would you do?"
"I'fecks, I would think there was a rare randy afoot, and straightway lower a boat and come with all speed ashore to lend a hand."
"And you, Copstone,—what would you do?"
"Come with Haymoss, to be sure, sir. You and me, Haymoss——"
"The words of my dream again, sir!" cried Amos in excitement. "There be summat in your mind, sir; tell it out, and, souls all, lend an ear."
And then Dennis unfolded a scheme which Juan's report and Turnpenny's suggestion had set working in his mind. For some minutes the little group around him hung breathlessly upon his quiet words; then Turnpenny exclaimed—
"We'll do it, we will so, and be jowned if the knaves will not wish themselves anywhere but on Maiden Isle. Come, my hearts, the sky is black and lowering: 'tis the very time o' night for our intent, and with God's help we will prosper in our doings."
And then the rough seaman fell on his knees, and with clasped hands recited the prayer for help in time of need, and every man of the little company responded with a low fervent "Amen!"
Half an hour later, Turnpenny, with Copstone, Juan, and a second maroon, bade farewell to his comrades and clambered down into the second cave. When they were on the farther side of the dividing rock, their weapons, with four belts packed full of grape shot from the stores of theMaid Marian, were handed down to them, and after a final "God speed!" from Dennis they started on the way to the sea.
An hour passed—an hour during which the rest of the company sat in hushed expectancy, scarcely speaking a word. One of the maroons had pushed his way through the heap of loose earth piled at the mouth of the cave, and crawled stealthily to the ledge, where he crouched amid the ruins of the sheds. Presently, from the opposite cliff, came a slight booming sound like the cry of a night beetle. The maroon, invisible in the black shade of the cliff, crept back to the cave. Immediately afterwards the whole company, man by man, crossed into the inner cave, the two men most seriously wounded being lifted up one side of the pillar, and lowered gently down the other. Dennis leading, with Mirandola close behind, they made their way by torch-light down the sloping floor, then, extinguishing the torch, crawled out at the narrow aperture, and, after Dennis had taken a careful look round, stood up, a silent band of twenty-one, on the sea-shore. The two men whose wounds forbade exertion were left in a sheltered spot below the bank; then the rest followed Dennis up through the vegetation, in single file. It was so dark that no man could see the man before him, but each one grasped the caliver of the man ahead, thus guiding themselves through the jungle.
Up they went, quietly, almost as surely as if it were broad daylight, for Dennis knew every foot of the way, which he had trodden many times since that day long before when he had begun his exploration of the island. Winding in and out, he came at length by a long circuit to the high ground approaching the southern bank of the gully. And there he halted. Through the trees before him he saw the watch-fires, dying low, of the enemy encamped on the clearing beyond. All was silent. If any sentinels were awake, they were not conversing. The camp was as quiet as though it were an abode of the dead.
Suddenly the deep silence was broken by the boom of a beetle. It died away. So natural a sound was it that the Spanish sentinels, if any were on guard, would never have suspected that it came from the throat of a maroon. Even Dennis's company might have been deceived had they not known that the sound had been made by one of themselves, the maroon at their leader's side.
Scarcely had it died away when two sharp cracks rent the air from some point beyond the camp. Then came an instant change over the scene—a change which Amos and Tom Copstone had fired to bring about. A loud cry rang out in the camp, followed by a din of many voices and the clash of arms. Some one cast fuel on one of the fires, and the flame, leaping up, shone on a camp in commotion; men were hurrying this way and that, calling to their fellows excitedly. What was this that had disturbed their slumbers? Was some one signalling to them from the vessel out at sea? Could it be that El Draque had sailed up out of the night?
Into the midst of this noise and confusion broke a shattering sound, the roar of a piece of ordnance. Then the din was redoubled, and with the astonished cries of some were mingled the shrieks and groans of wounded men. Still Dennis and his little band stood motionless amid the trees, but every man now held a lighted match. Another deep reverberating roar thundered forth, with more cries and yells in the camp. Amos and his comrades had disposed of the men guarding the guns, and had turned these upon the enemy.
"Now!" cried Dennis.
Then a mighty shout broke from the throats of the little company, and with the roar of lusty British seamen mingled the weird "Yo peho! yo peho!" of the maroons. A volley flashed from the muzzles of nineteen calivers, and nineteen men dashed forward towards the camp, shouting like a hundred. On they rushed through the trees into the clearing. "Yo peho! yo peho!" And with yells of panic fear the Spaniards, like a flock of sheep, ran and ran and ran, helter-skelter, flinging their arms away, tumbling over one another, falling, rising again, pelting headlong through the woodland towards the marsh.
Again the guns on the opposite cliff thundered, but the shots did not now come plunging into the camp. How were the Spaniards, scared out of their wits, to know that Turnpenny and Copstone were now firing into the gully, lest they should hit their comrades? But in a few moments there was no risk of this, for Dennis wheeled about and led his men at a mad scamper down by the way they had come, never stopping until, bathed in sweat, panting for breath, they stood on the sea-shore, at the place from which they had started.
And now Dennis looked again towards the sea, and strained his ears to catch a sound he expected. Would his expectation be fulfilled? Would Fortune favour him? Would the Spanish officers aboard the ship do as Copstone and Turnpenny in their place would have done—lower boats in all haste and come to the aid of their comrades in peril? None knew the anxiety that troubled Dennis in those minutes of waiting. If the Spaniards were poltroons, if they were scared by the sudden outbreak and feared to venture shorewards in the dark, his bold scheme would fail, and then what the end would be he hardly dared to think. It was with real agony of soul he listened, listened for the sweep of oars.
Hark! On the silence of the sea comes a thud, a measured beat, growing in loudness, drawing near. As yet he can see nothing, but his comrades hear the sound; their hearts leap at it; they can scarcely check a shout of joy. On comes the boat; they hear the splash of oars, and voices, and by and by the grating of a keel. They wait in panting silence. Men are wading through the water; arms clash; a loud voice gives an order; and now a score of dark forms can be seen running up the beach, making for the very path lately traversed by the nineteen. The men, lurking beneath the bank, hold their breath; Dennis feels as though his very heart-beats must be heard; but the Spaniards pass, and disappear, and are now hasting up towards the camp. The sound of their footsteps dies away; Dennis can scarcely bear to wait, so eager is he to pursue his scheme to the end. At last he gives the word, and eighteen men rush after him, noiselessly on the sand, towards the boat, a hundred yards away.
The two Spaniards left on guard catch sight of the running men when they are half way across the beach. Why should they suspect that these are not their comrades who lately parted from them? What has happened? They are nervous, unstrung. "What is it?" they cry; but the words are choked in their throats, for two men have sprung upon them, and next moment they lie stunned on the sand. Four men return and bring their wounded comrades with what haste they may. Then lusty arms shove the boat from the shoal; nineteen men leap in after the two; the oars are out, and the boat's head points towards the vessel lying at anchor.
But it pauses as it comes level with the shoulder of the cliff. The four bold fellows who have so manfully played their part beyond the gully are not forgotten. And but a few moments after the boat has stopped, four figures come swimming out with mighty strokes, and are hauled aboard, dripping wet, but exultant. Again the oars strike the water and the boat moves out to sea. A dark hull looms up in front. Dennis whispers an order; all the oars are shipped but two; and the boat goes slowly, with no sign of haste. A voice hails it from the deck. "All's well!" calls Juan. The boat is now under the vessel's quarter: a lamp is slung over the bulwark to guide the returning crew; a rope is thrown out to steady her; and Turnpenny begins to clamber up by the battens. Before Dennis reaches the deck he hears a cry, then a heavy thud, and as he springs aboard he sees Amos with a prostrate Spaniard between his legs. Up they go, all twenty-five; only a dozen of the vessel's crew are left on board; and the long pent-up excitement of maroons and British mariners bursts forth in a shout of triumph; the ship is theirs.
"Heave up the anchor, my hearts!" cried Turnpenny. "Loose the mainsail, Tom; the wind serves."
"Stay, Amos," said Dennis, "we must not forget the pinnace. We cannot return to Master Drake without her."
"Nor shall not," replied the seaman; "but we'll first give the knavish vessels yonder a taste of our lead, an ye will but give us leave."
"A right good notion, Amos, if we can win to them at this low tide."
"That we can, sir; trust me."
With her courses set, and Turnpenny at the helm, the vessel stood out half a mile until all danger of striking a shoal was past; then she was headed southward. Meantime Dennis superintended the loading of all her ordnance, five guns on each side. Soon they saw the dark hulls of the two Spanish vessels anchored off the south-west corner of the island.
"There's room enough betwixt 'em, sir, for us to pass and rake 'em with a broadside. Not a man aboard 'em will suppose this craft is manned by any but their own comrades, nor will they know better till they hear our popguns."
As they approached, a voice hailed them from the vessel on the port side, asking the meaning of the uproar lately heard.
"A fight ashore, but it is now over," sang out Juan the maroon.
TheMinioncame between the two vessels. So confident was Turnpenny in the unpreparedness of the Spaniards that he hove to, not a dozen yards separating the ships on either side. The guns were manned; the matches, already lighted, were screened from observation; then, at the word, the five guns on the starboard side belched forth their heavy charges of round shot. Almost before the roar had died away the gunners rushed to the larboard. Again there was a mighty thunder and crash as the shots raked the hapless vessel. Through the cloud of smoke the adventurous bark was got under way. In a few minutes she ran clear; Turnpenny put the helm down, and she beat up against the wind until she reached her former anchorage westward of the gully.
Then Dennis, with Turnpenny and a dozen men, got into the boat which had followed astern at the end of a rope, and rowed for the entrance between the cliffs. There was no guard over the pinnace. The Spaniards who had been surprised in their camp had fled to the other side of the island. Even those who had lately landed, hearing the thunder of the guns to the south, had rushed inland, believing that El Draque, the terror of their coasts, had suddenly come upon them. Unmolested, Dennis and some of his party landed on the rocks. Turnpenny made a rapid inspection of the pinnace.
"Her stern works be sore battered and her rudder shivered to splinters," he said, "but she will take no water, a' b'lieve. With a strong pull we will have her off, sir."
The rope by which the Spaniards had attempted to tow her was still fixed. Under the haulage of twelve sturdy mariners she was slowly shifted; she floated; and in twenty minutes lay alongside the Spanish vessel.
Then, the men giving a parting cheer that echoed and re-echoed from the shore, the ship stood away under full sail with the pinnace riding merrily astern. And when morning broke the long coast-line of the mainland was already in sight.
"No Bobby Pike this time," whispered Turnpenny to Dennis, as they lay eating their supper amid the scrub a mile or more south of Nombre de Dios. "And with all my soul I hope the Frenchmen be sober men, for to fail of our purpose now through any frowardness would break Master Drake his noble heart and send me into a decline."
"Hush!" returned Dennis, in a voice equally low. "List to the church bells, Amos, and the clatter of the hammers. Does it not mind you of home—the church on the cliff, and the busy carpenters in the docks below? My soul yearns for home, Amos."
"Ay, and so do I. But I would fain return home with full hands—money enough to buy a little fishing craft, and a cottage by the sea. 'Tis five year and more since I sailed in theJesusout of Plimworth Sound, and there was Margery Tutt a-waving her little handkercher to me, thinking, poor soul, to see me again within a twelvemonth. And I warrant the pretty maid counted the days and went to every wedden in church, to larn the fearsome promises word by word, so that she might not fail when we should come to stand afore holy pa'son. 'With all my worldly goods I thee endow': so it runs for the man to say, and here I be, five year after, with not so much worldly goods as I had then, saving some few pearls; and I warrant some knavish land-lubber has come along and snatched up my little Margery, and I'll find her a bowerly 'ooman that has clean forgot poor Haymoss Turnpenny. Ah me! I be sick of adventures, be jowned if I bean't."
"Be of good cheer, Amos. If Fortune stand our friend, we shall have more gold and silver than we can bear away before this night be ended; and then Master Drake will sail away home, and who knows?—Margery may be looking for you even yet. 'Twas seven years that Jacob served for Rachel."
"Ay, but always within arm's length. I warrant he kept an eye on the wench. There was never a thousand leagues of sea betwixt him and the maid. Od-rat-en, if I find Margery have changed her name with any lubberly chaw-bacon, dang me if I don't deal en a clout he'll remember, good-now, I will."
Turnpenny relapsed into silence, brooding on his melancholy forebodings.
It was the night of March 31. Some forty men lay in the scrub overlooking Nombre de Dios, awaiting the clang of mule-bells that would announce the approach of a treasure train from Venta Cruz. Half of them were French, for a week or two before, as Drake and his men were sportively pitching stones at the land crabs on the beach, a ship came down from the west, whose captain proved to be a French Huguenot named Le Testu, with a company of some seventy men and boys. They were perishing for want of water. Having obtained from Drake, ever generous to adventurers like himself, the supplies they needed, they prepared to join themselves to him, in the hope of obtaining some share of Spanish gold.
Drake hesitated to admit the Frenchmen to a partnership, for he had but thirty-one men left, and feared that the seventy would claim too large a portion of the booty if his projected attack on the mule-train should succeed. But the matter was compromised by Captain Le Testu joining Drake with twenty men. These, with fifteen Englishmen and a few maroons, sailed in two of Drake's pinnaces for the mouth of the Francisco river, fifteen miles from Nombre de Dios. The rest of the company were left at a secret spot in charge of one Richard Doble. When the river mouth was made, Drake sent a few maroons back with the pinnaces, ordering them to remain in hiding with Doble and to return in four days' time to take off the adventurers.
Dennis and Turnpenny were among those who accompanied Drake in theMinion. They had won great praise from him for their exploits in Maiden Isle and their capture of the Spanish ship, whose stores of food and ammunition were very welcome. The damage to the pinnace was speedily repaired, Drake saying with a laugh that had she been rendered unseaworthy he would have pinioned Dennis between decks and kept him there until they dropped anchor in Plymouth Sound.
The adventurers were encamped on rising ground above the town. Taking a lesson from the previous failure, the men spoke in the lowest of whispers, even though they were a mile away from the track. All through the night they heard the clatter of hammers from the bay, where the Spanish shipwrights, avoiding the heat of the day, were preparing the ships of the treasure fleet for sea. The ambuscaders were grimly resolved that the cargoes should be less by the weight of a good many tons of silver and gold.
The hours passed too slowly for the impatient adventurers. But at length, a little before dawn, they heard a faint tinkle of bells afar in the woods, and soon the maroon scouts came in with the news that three trains, numbering nearly two hundred mules in all, were approaching from Venta Cruz. Such good fortune was unlooked for; and though the scouts reported that the trains were escorted by soldiers, not a man gave a thought to the odds against them. Instantly they all seized their calivers and bows and arrows, and hastened to the trackway, where, as before, they posted themselves in the long grass on either side.
On came the mules, their bells jangling and clanging in musical discord. In the grass lurked the raiders, silent—though Turnpenny gave Dennis a nudge and whispered, "'Tis All Fools' Day!" Suddenly there sounded a blast from Drake's whistle; the men started up, and, sending a volley of bullets and arrows at the Spanish infantrymen that guarded the convoy, made straight for the heads of the leading mules. Nothing loath to rest a while, the mules behind lay down contentedly on the ground. But the soldiers, who had blown on their matches as they marched, to keep them alight, rallied in a group and fired back at the assailants. A maroon was killed outright: Captain Le Testu fell seriously wounded; but the rest, kneeling down and supporting their weapons on the prostrate mules, briskly returned the fire; then, springing up before the enemy could reload, charged upon them with fierce cries and drove them helter-skelter towards the town. Immediately afterwards two men came rushing up to Turnpenny.
"Be jowned if it bean't Billy Hawk and fat Baltizar!" he cried in astonishment. "Oh Billy, poor soul, what a scarecrow 'ee do look! Get out, you jelly!" he cried to Baltizar, speeding him with a kick. "You be fat as butter; all is well with 'ee; get 'ee to the town after your masters, and thank God your oily carcass be not left to fatten the land.—Billy, dear heart, what hath happed to thee?"
Hawk told his story while Turnpenny and the other seamen, selecting the mules that bore the heaviest loads, with nimble fingers cast off their packs, unstrapped them, and helped themselves to the precious contents—bars and quoits of solid gold, and silver uncountable. He had followed Biddle and the other mutineers in the hope of persuading them to return to their duty; but they had soon fallen upon him, robbed him of his bag of pearls, and left him bound in the forest. There he had been found by some fugitives from the routed Spaniards, who carried him to their vessel, and conveyed him to Nombre de Dios. Believing him to be one of Drake's men, they tortured him to make him confess where his captain's secret haven was, which he stedfastly refused to do; and since then he had been kept in slavery, drudging as a muleteer between Nombre de Dios and Panama.
"God be praised we have found 'ee!" cried Turnpenny. "You shall come back with us, and I'll give 'ee a share of all my treasure."
The raiders did up in bundles and bestowed about their persons as much as they could stagger under, and set to work to bury what they could not carry in the burrows of landcrabs and under the great trunks of fallen trees. For two hours they toiled on; then, hearing the clatter of hoofs from the direction of the town, they seized their booty and made off to the woods. Up came a troop of horse; but when they reached the mules they halted, for they heard in the woods the "Yo peho!" of the maroons, and shrank from engaging those terrible forest fighters. Staggering under the weight of their treasure, the raiders tramped with what haste they might through the jungle. They had not gone far when Captain Le Testu lay down groaning; weak from loss of blood, he could go no farther. Two of his men volunteered to stay with him, and help him on after he had rested. The others hurried on, and after struggling through the forest for two days and nights, drenched by terrible rainstorms, burnt black by the torrid heat, reached their landing-place on the bank of the Francisco River.
It was four days since they had left it; the pinnaces should have been there awaiting them; but not a sign of them met their hungry eyes. Instead, seven Spanish pinnaces were observed rowing from the island, where the maroons had been ordered to shelter with Richard Doble. The drenched and footsore raiders were aghast. Had their enemies captured the pinnaces, and slain their comrades? Were they to be imprisoned in this swampy jungle, with no means of sailing or rowing away to Fort Diego? Loud murmurs, cries of despair, curses at being deserted, broke from the seamen. They cried out that they were betrayed; that the Spaniards would fall on them and overwhelm them; that they would never see home again. Drake expostulated with them; the maroons offered to lead them the sixteen days' journey overland, and promised, if the ships proved indeed to be taken, to give them shelter in their villages. But the men cried out the more; some threw down the treasure they had dared so much to win; some began to cry out against their leader himself.
Then Drake showed the stuff of which he was made.
"Silence, you knaves!" he cried. "Am I any whit better off than you? Is this a time to yield to craven fear? Nay, but rather to pluck up heart and play the man. If the Spaniards have in truth taken our pinnaces, which God forbid, yet they must have time to search them, time to examine the mariners, and, if they compel them by torture to confess where our ships are, time to execute their resolution after it is determined. Before all these times be taken, we may get to our ships if ye will. We may not hope to go by land, for that the journey is too long and the ways too foul. But we may surely go by water. Look at the trees here rolling down upon the flood, thrown down by the storms that beset us so sorely. May we not build ourselves a raft, and put ourselves to sea? I will be one; who will be the others?"
"That will I," said Dennis, stepping forward.
"And I too, good-now," cried Turnpenny.
"Nay, Master Hazelrig, you I will leave to command these timid rascals if ill befall me; but Amos I will take, and go fetch those laggard pinnaces."
Then the maroons, taking hands and forming into a line, stepped into the river and intercepted the trees as they came down on the torrent. With their hatchets they lopped off the branches; they bound the trunks together with leathern thongs taken from the mules, and with tendrils of creepers from the jungle. A stout sapling was reared as a mast, and with his own hands Turnpenny rigged up a biscuit sack for a sail, and fashioned a crutch in which another sapling might serve as a rudder. The raft being now ready, Drake selected two of the Frenchmen who could swim well to accompany him and Turnpenny. The four men stepped on to the frail craft, and as she was hauled off over the bar at the river mouth, Drake cried out:
"Be of good cheer, my hearts. If it please God I put my foot in safety aboard my frigate, I shall, God willing, by one means or other get ye all aboard, in despite of all the Spaniards in the Indies."
And the seamen, with new hope born within their breasts, sped their gallant captain with a cheer.
"My heart, 'twas a fearsome voyage!" said Turnpenny, relating the adventure to Dennis afterwards. "We sat inches deep in water, holding on for very life, and the sea came tumbling aboard, swingeing us to the armpits at every surge of the waves. We scudded along before the wind, but though 'twas strong, it scarce tempered the great heat; and what with the parching of the sun, and what with the beating of the salt water, we had all of us our skins much fretted away. We had sailed for six hours, and were making our third league, when God gave us the sight of two pinnaces bearing towards us. 'God be praised!' cried our captain; 'there is now no cause to fear.' But the sky was become dark, and the men on the pinnaces as they laboured towards us, the wind driving the spray into their eyes, did not perceive us; and the gale being exceedingly fierce, they bore up to the lee of a point of land, and vanished from our sight. Whereupon our captain ran ashore to windward of the headland, and being mightily enraged for that the knaves had not obeyed his command to wait us at the river, he was minded to play a trick on them and turn their hearts sick with very fear. So when we did land, we ran in great haste towards where the pinnaces were at anchor, making such speed as if we had been chased by the enemy. My heart! their eyes were astare with fear when they espied us. They hauled us aboard their boats, crying out, this one and that, 'Where be our comrades?' 'How fares it with them?' and other such questions, to all which our Captain in a cold voice did answer only 'Well!' Whereupon they began to lament with tears, crying out that verily their dear comrades were dead or in captivity.
"Our captain for a space looked sternly upon them in their misery. But then, being willing to rid all doubts and fill them with joy, he took from out his shirt a quoit of gold, and bade them praise God, for their comrades were safe and had of that treasure enough and for all. Then he commanded them to get their anchors up, for that he was resolved that very night to come back to the river. And we rowed hard through the darkness and in the teeth of the gale, and here we be, with blistered skins indeed, but sound men and hearty."
Dennis had collected the men on the shore, and built a fire to keep their spirits up. With great joy they heard their comrades hailing them as the vessels came up out of the dark, and they begged Drake's forgiveness for their mutinous murmurs. As soon as day dawned they embarked; the pinnaces ran before the wind, picked up Richard Doble in his frigate, and before noon arrived safely at Port Diego. The treasure was carried on shore, and in the middle of the smooth open space, amidst cries of wonderment from those who had not had a part in the adventure, Drake weighed the gold and silver on the steward's meat-scales, delivering to the Frenchmen the half agreed upon. These then sailed away westward, to get news of their ill-fated captain.
Drake was not easy in mind about Le Testu. It was pitiful to think of him wounded and left with only two of his men deep in the woods. So while his vessel, thePascha, too foul to be easily fitted for the voyage home, was being stripped to equip the Spanish frigate Dennis had captured, he prepared to lead an expedition in search of the French Captain. But his men raised such an outcry at his leaving them that he gave the command to Oxnam, contenting himself with accompanying them to the Francisco River.
Oxnam had not gone far up stream when a haggard figure emerged tottering from the reeds, and falling on his knees, burst into tears and thanked God that help had come. Not many minutes after Drake had left him and his comrade with Captain Le Testu, some Spanish arquebusiers came upon them. The Captain bade the two men flee, and they ran off in haste, carrying their treasure. But the Spaniards gave chase, and this man, fearing that, burdened as he was, he must be overtaken, flung away his possessions one after another. Among them was a box of jewels, and this his comrade, cupidity getting the better of his fear, stopped to pick up. The delay was fatal. He was caught and carried away with the captain. The other fugitive was not farther pursued; he reached the river after wandering for several days, during which he had seen a great host of near two thousand Spaniards and negroes searching for the treasure that had been buried.
Hearing this, Oxnam was not willing to return until he had seen whether anything was left. The Spaniards had dug up the ground over nearly a square mile; but Oxnam found in the crab-holes a small quantity of gold, with silver weighing about five hundred pounds. Loaded with this, his men returned to their pinnace, and came merrily back to Port Diego.
Now all thoughts turned longingly homewards. The value of the treasure taken from the Spaniards was near £50,000, and it was not to be supposed that so great a loss would be accepted by them with equanimity. Before long ships of war would doubtless be fitted out to punish this audacious sea-rover who had made himself a terror throughout the Main, and Drake thought it but prudent to get away with his booty before his little band was overwhelmed. He still needed a vessel to serve as victualler to the frigate in which he purposed to sail for England. With his usual daring he set off for the mouth of the Grande river, running right under the guns of Cartagena. In the middle of the night he chased and boarded a frigate that endeavoured to slip past him to the west, and, returning to his secret haven with his prize, he unloaded her cargo of maize, hens, hogs, and wild honey, and prepared for the voyage home.