Roger the Bold Part 10

The commander of the brigantine was silent for a few minutes while he considered the question; for he was a naturally thoughtful man, and, in those days, a much-travelled one. Presently he turned to Roger again.

"You shall go ash.o.r.e," he said, "and with you will go the golden plaque which we have treasured. Then, with the help of this Tamba, you will search for some of the natives, and make friends with them by means of gifts. Perhaps some will have been to this wonderful city which stands within a lake. Who knows? Perhaps we may come upon the very sh.o.r.es of the lake, for I hold that it must be within easy distance of the coast, or else how did this Fernando Cortes come to possess the plaque? Till we sight the land, you will command one of the watches."

Two mornings later, as Roger was preparing to call the relief, who would take his place on deck, a strange object in the distance caught his attention, and he called Peter Tamworth to him.

"A boat--a small boat," said the latter, with a.s.surance bred of long service to the sea. "There is a sail too, but it hangs ragged, and the boat steers herself. Yes, she floats in a circle, for she cannot be said to sail, though her canvas catches the wind on occasion."

The two looked long and steadily at the strange object, and soon Roger felt sure that Peter had made no mistake.

"A boat out here!" he said in astonishment--"in these seas which I thought to be deserted, for we have seen nothing but horizon these last two days, since we dropped the coast of Cuba."

"But Spaniards control these waters; do not forget that," was the answer. "Therefore it requires no wit to guess at the owners. 'Tis a Spanish boat--a derelict, maybe, dropped from some vessel, or broken from its moorings at Santiago."

"Then you think that no one is aboard?"

"As certainly as I guess that she's Spanish. Still, who can say, Master Roger, the lieutenant? There may be a crew of cut-throats aboard her, in which case we shall run them over with our prow and never miss them."

"But what if they are storm-beaten?" demanded Roger. "I even think that I see a form aboard. Wait till I have climbed the mast, for from there I shall get a finer view."

He ran along the deck, and clambered up to the trees, where he remained for a few minutes.

"As I thought," he said. "There is one solitary figure aboard, and he lies across the thwarts as if he were dead. We must succour him. Go you to Sir Thomas with the news."

An hour later, when the brigantine came up with the boat, those aboard the former saw that the derelict was of Spanish manufacture, and that a Spaniard lay in a heap, half on the thwarts and half in the bottom. His head was sunk on his breast, and he took no notice of the strangers.

"Lost at sea, and dead perhaps," said Sir Thomas. "It shall not be said of us that we treated Spaniards badly; for did we not feed our prisoners in Cuba and release them ere we sailed? We will succour this poor fellow. Run us closer, master, and let two of the men be prepared to drop down into her."

A few minutes later they were running gently alongside the tiny boat, and, thanks to the care of the steersman, two of the sailors were able to drop into her. A rope was heaved to them, and in a little while the stranger was towing at the stern.

"Not dead, but far gone, it seems," was the report of one of the men.

"There is not a sc.r.a.p of food aboard, and only a wooden bowl to show that he had water, but now it is as dry as a bone."

"Then we will fas.h.i.+on a sling and pull him up," said Sir Thomas; "or, better, do you, Roger de Luce, lean well over the side, and others shall hold you; then those aboard the boat can pull alongside and hand the fellow up. Now, let us not bungle the matter; we will take the greater pains because he is a Spaniard."

It required but a little time to carry out the operation, and very soon the stranger lay under an awning on the deck, while Peter Tamworth knelt beside him.

"I warrant he has not been overlong at sea," he said, eyeing the man critically, "for his clothes are not oversoiled, and he is not so thin.

Then, too, his lips are not swollen, as I have seen before in other cases. 'Twere well to be sure that he were no spy."

"Tush, man! Why think of such a thing?" demanded Sir Thomas, angrily.

"Who would risk almost certain death in such a manner? We might have sailed some leagues to north or south. We might so easily have lost him, or he us, to follow your reasoning. And if we had, could he live to reach the land?"

The argument seemed conclusive, and, moreover, though this Spaniard did not appear to be at the last extremity, he seemed to have lost his senses.

"This sun blazing on his head would be sufficient for that," said Sir Thomas. "The man is a derelict, and it matters not to us whether he is in extremes or but lately become unconscious; we will succour him all the same. Come, now, let an old campaigner give advice. Give him water first, but in little sips, and not much at that; later, he shall have his fill, when he is able to eat. Roger de Luce and the surgeon will look to him, while we see that the boat is hoisted. There was nothing else aboard?"

"Nothing," was the answer.

"And he has no papers about him?"

"I have searched," answered Roger. "His pockets are empty; there is nothing on him."

"Then he is deserving of our compa.s.sion. Let us deal with him as we would wish to be dealt with were we in like predicament. Let him have water, as I said, and later his fill of meat."

That evening the Spaniard was able to sit up, and even to struggle to his feet, but he was as yet too weak to give an account of himself.

However, on the following morning Roger questioned him in the presence of the commander.

"Let us hear where you come from," he said kindly. "We discovered you in the middle of the ocean, far from land, and without food or water."

"Would I had died!" was the answer, as the man stared at Roger, astounded to find one aboard an English s.h.i.+p who spoke his language.

"Would I had died! For it seems that I have fallen from the hands of one enemy into those of another."

"But why?" demanded Roger. "We are enemies to your countrymen, for the simple reason that they attacked us on the high seas; but to you--never!

We have saved you from death, and, when the time comes, we will hand you back to your comrades."

"And to sure death," was the reply. "Listen, senor. I am deemed a traitor. It is thought that I have conspired against the Governor of Santiago, and my punishment was this----"

He stopped as if he were fatigued, and sipped at the vessel of water beside him.

"I was condemned to put to sea in an open boat," he said faintly, as if the memory of his trouble was too great for him. "I was taken aboard a galleon a week ago, and dropped into this boat. There I was left, with little food and water, with no chart, and no knowledge of the ways of the sea; and all around me, when the galleon went out of sight, was water. Oh, the awful horror of it!"

He shuddered, and buried his face in his hands. Then, regaining courage, he proceeded--

"I take Heaven to witness that I was no traitor and no conspirator. But what use is it to repine? A week ago I thought that death stared me in the face, and when a few days had gone I longed for the end to come. But one struggles even for the most miserable of lives, for existence is dear to us all. I steered the boat as well as I could, in what direction I knew not. Then my arm tired, my strength failed, and the sun overpowered me. I knew no more till I found myself beneath this awning.

And you will befriend me? Doubtless you are bound for England?"

There was silence on the deck, while the commander nodded to Roger.

"Did I not say so?" he asked, after a little while. "A spy would know that that was not our intention."

"Unless he acted a part," answered Roger, quietly. "That supposition is still open."

"Not to us," was the stern answer. "We will give the man full trust, or none at all. His tale is true on the face of it. But bid him continue, and ask him of this far country to which we are bound. Let him know that we are for the Terra Firma."

"We are bound for the west," said Roger. "We are in search of a city the plan of which was captured from a Spanish s.h.i.+p."

"Show it to me. Let me see it," demanded the Spaniard, eagerly. "If it is that plan of which I have heard, then indeed shall I be able to deal punishment to those who have ill-used me. Yes, and I can bring riches to those who have saved my life, to friends who should be enemies."

Roger translated the words to Sir Thomas, who at once ordered the plaque to be brought.

"What does he know?" he asked impatiently. "Let us hear what he has to say."

But no amount of questioning would induce the Spaniard to speak till the plaque had arrived. He took it in his hand, and gazed at it attentively, turning it over and over.

"'Tis the very one, the golden disc," he said, "and now I can repay your kindness. Bid your commander tell me whether I may take service in the ranks. My name is Alvarez de Logas, a good Spanish name, and I swear to be true to all of this expedition."

He stared at Sir Thomas as Roger interpreted, attempting to read his answer.