With Drake on the Spanish Main Part 15

Soft-footed as cats they stole to the careless sentinel, still drawing the long regular breath of placid slumber. Suddenly the sound changed to a low choking gurgle: Turnpenny had nimbly slipped a strip of his s.h.i.+rt into the man's open mouth. In two minutes he lay straight on his back, his arms and legs firmly bound with lengths of the flexible tendril. Then the two intruders moved swiftly back to the embrasure, and signalled to the waiting men that it was safe for them to ascend.

Tom Copstone and two of the maroons came up in turn. Then there was a hitch. The remaining three men stood helpless on the rocks, afraid to attempt a feat which had never come within their experience. There was a moment's delay: then Turnpenny slipped down the rope, hitched a loop around one of the men, abusing him under his breath as a good-for-nothing land-lubber, and signalled to the others to haul him up. The two others were brought up in the same way, not without some b.u.mps against the wall; then Turnpenny again came up hand over hand, and the little party of eight stood complete beside the gun.

"My heart! 'tis a famous doing!" said Turnpenny mopping his sweating brow. "'You and me, Haymoss,' as I heard in my dream."

The next step also had been pre-arranged. Copstone, as the man most familiar with the fort enclosure, was to lead four of the maroons to the quarters of the garrison, dash into the outer room where the fire-arms would probably be kept, and hold the Spaniards in play while Dennis and his companions made a rush for the round tower beneath which were the dungeons. The Spaniards would no doubt be asleep in the inner room, and, suddenly disturbed from their slumbers, they might be expected to hesitate before attacking five well-armed men who stood guard over their muskets. It was scarcely likely that more than one or two would at this dead hour of night be in the outer room where the light was, and Copstone and his men might be safely trusted to account for them.

"You must give us a minute, Tom," said Amos, "seeing that we have the greater way to go."

"Ay, indeed," said Dennis, "our entrances should fall together. You know the way, Amos?"

"Ay, sure, and have good reason to."

"Well, then, Copstone will wait until we have had time to reach the tower, then he will perform his part."

This conversation had pa.s.sed in whispers. All having been arranged, they crept down the steps from the battlement to the courtyard, and while Copstone and his four dusky companions stood in the shadow of the stairway, the other three, with rapid, noiseless steps, ran towards the light in the farther corner. The courtyard was covered with gra.s.s, except for a small stone-paved s.p.a.ce around the buildings in the centre; and Turnpenny, who was leading, kept to the gra.s.s, even though their bare feet might make no sound on the stones.

But they had covered little more than a third of the distance, and had, indeed, not yet come level with the buildings, when all three were suddenly startled by a low deep growl on the right, from the neighbourhood of the commandant's house.

"Crymaces! I had forgot the Captain's dog!" whispered Turnpenny.

They had instinctively halted and turned in the direction of the sound.

A dark form, still growling, was rus.h.i.+ng over the stone court towards them. It made direct for Turnpenny. The sailor threw up his left hand to ward off the attack, but the beast was so large, and came against him with such momentum, that he reeled under the impact, and the sword he held raised in his right hand was almost wrenched from his grasp.

Dennis was swinging forward to his comrade's a.s.sistance when he saw that no help was needed. The hound had impaled itself on Turnpenny's sword. Amos gasped with relief as he shook himself free; then, whispering "They'll have heard the beast's growls," he set off at full speed for the round house, the two others following close at his heels.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The sailor threw up his left hand to ward off the attack."]

They dashed straight for the doorway, which was faintly lit by a light in the guard-room to the right of the pa.s.sage. In a quarter-minute they were inside; five seconds more brought them to the door of the room, which they reached just as three Spaniards were leaving the table at which they had been dicing, curious, no doubt, to discover the cause of the dog's uneasiness. They were unarmed; their weapons indeed lay on a bench at the further end of the room; clearly the dog's growls had caused them no real alarm, and no other sounds could have reached them.

Consequently they stood stock-still, petrified with amazement, when they saw two white men and a maroon with naked swords rush almost noiselessly into the room.

"Surrender, villains!" cried Amos, pointing his sword full at the first man's throat.

His tone, backed by the sight of the three blades, helped to clear their scattered wits. With fine presence of mind, the man farthest from the door s.n.a.t.c.hed a goblet from the table and hurled it straight at Turnpenny, stooping then to seize his sword that lay on the bench behind. But he had taken only a single step when the maroon, with a cry of fury, flung himself clean across the table, and drove his weapon through the man's body. The other two, less quick-witted and less courageous than their hapless comrade, shrank back and held up their hands, crying aloud for mercy.

"Down on your knees, dogs!" shouted Turnpenny. "To the pa.s.sage, Juan!"

he said to the maroon. "Stand by the door opposite."

While Amos unstrung his caliver and lit his match, Dennis swept the Spaniards' weapons from the bench out of their reach. Scarcely had this been done when the door on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage opened, showing a room dimly lighted by a candle-lamp, and eight or ten Spaniards who had been roused from sleep by the noise.

"What is this?" cried one of them, fumbling with his sword as he came to the door.

Juan, the maroon, stood on no ceremony, but promptly transfixed him, and he fell like a log across the doorway. His comrades immediately behind recoiled in panic; but were pushed forward by the men in the rear, who had not seen what had happened.

"Stand, you villains!" called Turnpenny, from the opposite doorway. "I will shoot any man of you that lifts a finger."

"Shut the door!" cried one of the men behind.

But this was impossible; the door opened outwards, and none could reach it without stepping over the body of the man whom the maroon had killed. They well knew that the first who ventured across the threshold would meet with the same fate, and every man of them shrank from the risk. Dim as the light was, Turnpenny recognized the features of men under whose whips he had many times writhed.

"Fling down your sword, Hernando," he cried to the foremost of them.

The man hesitated. "Down with it, or you are a dead man," roared the seaman, and there was an accent in his voice that boded ill for the Spaniard if he should delay. His sword fell with a clatter on the stone floor.

"Now yours, Fernan, and yours, Manuel," and as these obeyed the curt command the rest waited no bidding, but cast their weapons from them and cried for quarter.

"Out with you, into the guard-room," shouted Turnpenny. "Have a care, Juan; let none escape."

The big maroon stood in the pa.s.sage with his back towards the outer gate, and the sight of his ferocious look and his formidable sword was enough. The Spaniards tumbled over each other like a flock of sheep as they surged into the room, where Dennis stood ready to cut down any who attempted resistance.

"Ah, 'tis you, Jose," cried Turnpenny, following the last into the room. "Where are your keys?"

The warder edged away, seeking to hide behind his comrades. At a sign from Turnpenny the maroon sprang after him and hauled him back.

"Your keys, rascal!" cried Turnpenny, and the cold barrel of the caliver within an inch of his ear jogged his memory.

"Mercy! I will fetch them," he said, hastily. The maroon followed him as he ran back into the room opposite, and in a few seconds he returned with his heavy bunch.

"Lock 'em in, sir," said Turnpenny, handing his weapon to Juan. "I be going with this villain to loose the prisoners."

He caught the terrified warder by the shoulder and pushed him into the pa.s.sage, where he turned to the right towards the stairway leading to the dungeons. Down he bundled him, neck and crop, and forced him to find the key among his bunch and throw open the door.

"'Tis me, comrades," he cried jubilantly into the dark s.p.a.ce, "'tis me, your old comrade, Haymoss Turnpenny, come to free 'ee from this cursed hole. Be you there, Ned Whiddon?"

"Ay, ay," came the amazed answer.

"And you, Hugh Curder?"

"Ay, Haymoss, here I be."

"Come out, my hearts. Ah, I hear the chains clanking on your poor legs. 'Tis not for long, dear comrades. Come out; this villain warder will ungyve ye; then do the same with the rest of the comrades and follow up aloft. We have arms for 'ee there, dear hearts. G.o.d be praised you be alive! Jose, you villain, loose their fetters. Ned, I will leave him with 'ee; keep an eye on him."

Leaving the cowed Spaniard in the safe hands of Whiddon and Curder, Turnpenny hastened back to rejoin Dennis, who had locked the door upon the others, and piled their arms against the wall of the pa.s.sage. Then the three rushed out into the open, and raced at breakneck pace across the courtyard to the main buildings, whence came the sounds of desperate conflict--shots, cries, and the clash of steel.

Copstone, waiting impatiently with the four maroons at the foot of the wall until the others should have reached the far corner of the enclosure, heard the growl of the commandant's dog, and guessed, from the sudden silence that followed, what had happened. Instantly he led his men with a rush towards the main building, where the light indicated that some at least of the garrison were awake. They reached the spot just as the door was thrown open and a man stepped across the threshold, whistling for the dog. Copstone sprang upon him, and toppled him over, and was then das.h.i.+ng past him into the house when he perceived that a group of at least half a dozen Spaniards were coming towards the door, alarmed by the sound of the scuffle. Copstone darted back; the maroons fired their calivers into the doorway; groans proclaimed that some of the shots had told. But there were resolute spirits among the garrison; in a few seconds they came pouring out, and, catching sight of the maroons, evidently believed that they had nothing worse than an outbreak of the native labourers to contend with.

Shouting with fury, they pressed forward, slas.h.i.+ng with their swords, and forced the a.s.sailants into the narrow s.p.a.ce between the wall of heir quarters and the commandant's house.

When Dennis and his comrades came breathless upon the scene, Copstone and his party were hemmed in by a crowd of infuriated Spaniards outnumbering them by seven to one. The Spaniards had had no time to light the matches for their muskets; the maroons had had no time to reload; and both attacked and attackers were laying about them doughtily with their swords. Whatever the timidity of the maroons in captivity, there was no doubt about their courage when fighting for their lives against odds. Aided somewhat by the darkness, which made it difficult to distinguish foe from friend, they were cutting and thrusting vigorously with their backs against the wall, encouraged by the voice of Copstone, who mingled with English words of cheer a few Spanish exclamations he had picked up during his imprisonment.

But steadily as they fought, it would have gone ill with them had not the arrival of Dennis and the others caused a momentary relaxation of the pressure upon them. The three dashed with a resounding cheer upon the rear of the Spaniards.

"Stand to it, my hearts!" bellowed Turnpenny. "You and me, Tom Copstone, you and me!"

Three Spaniards fell at the first onset. Before the rest had recovered from their surprise, before they had any idea of how small the reinforcement was, three more suffered the same fate. In the confusion, Dennis and his men dashed right through the cordon and ranged themselves alongside the doughty five. Then the Spaniards, finding that their rear was no longer attacked, realized that their enemy had received but a slight accession of strength, and returned to the fight with redoubled energy. For some time it was cut and thrust almost at random, and many shrewd blows were dealt on both sides. So sudden and surprising had the attack been that the Spaniards had had no time to collect their wits and resort to strategy. It had not occurred to them to get at the rear of their enemy over the wall. Again and again they rushed headlong upon the little party; but the maroons and Copstone had taken new courage from the presence of Dennis and the others. Turnpenny was in the centre of the line, Dennis at the extreme right, Juan the maroon at the left next to Copstone. Again and again they flung back the furious a.s.sault, and ever and anon above the din of the combat rose the inspiriting battle-cry of Turnpenny, "You and me, Tom Copstone, you and me!" and the answering shout, "You and me, Haymoss; good cheer, my heart!"

But eight men, however bold and stout-hearted, could not long contend with an enemy at least four times their number. Scarce a man of them but was bleeding from several wounds. The exertions and excitements of the night had made inroads upon their strength even before the fight began, while the Spaniards were at no such disadvantage; some of them, indeed, had risen fresh from sleep. Gradually the blows of the lesser force weakened. The Spaniards could not all attack them at the same time, so confined was the area of conflict; but when any of their number fell out, from wounds or fatigue, there were new men to take their places. For the others there was no such relief. Each one of them had to meet a succession of Spaniards. Dennis felt his strength giving way. He was not conscious of having been wounded, but he could now scarcely hold his sword from sheer weariness. And he felt that things were going badly with his comrades. Two of the maroons at his left had fallen, whether killed or merely wounded he could not tell.

He still heard the ringing voice of Turnpenny, but his heart sank as he realized that in a few more minutes he, at any rate, would no longer have the force to respond.

At last, when he felt with a kind of frenzied despair that it was impossible he should strike another blow, there fell upon his ears a new sound from the front--from some point beyond the crowd of Spaniards. Surely there was an English ring in those cheers; it was no mere Spanish yell. It was coming nearer, swelling into a roar. A few seconds later, the ring of steel by which the little party was encircled seemed to be burst asunder; then the Spaniards broke and scattered in all directions, fleeing helter-skelter before knives and swords wielded with the terrible might of vengeance by the hands of a score of men who had but lately lain cowed and crushed in their dungeons. Little mercy they deserved; little they found. Ned Whiddon, Hugh Curder, and many another hunted them into the four corners of the courtyard; the tables were turned, and the freed prisoners smote and spared not.