Across the Spanish Main Part 29

They have torn the life so nearly from my poor body that there is but little remaining, and that little you could not save, my dear old friend. You did your best before they began upon me, and failed. No man could do more. Just put your doublet under my head to keep it off the hard stone, dear lad; and oh, Roger, do not weep so bitterly; it tears my heart to see you. I feel but little pain now, and what still remains will not be for long. Now, Roger, listen to me, my friend. I shall be gone very soon; do not, I pray you, stay grieving over my body after I am dead, for that will avail me nothing, and only involve you in my fate. Therefore, get those tools and cut away at that grating, so that you will be ready when that unknown friend of ours comes to a.s.sist you to escape. Promise me, Roger. You will win home safely; I know it; I feel that you will. And you will take care of Mary, my dear sister Mary, will you not, Roger? See that she comes to no harm, old friend.

Remember the secret of that cryptogram, Roger, and fetch that treasure away; my share of it is yours, my friend. I do not tell you to give it to Mary, for I think you can guess what I mean when I say I do not think it will be necessary. Roger," he resumed after a short silence, broken only by the deep sobs of his sorrowing companion, "Roger, dear lad, hold my hand, for it is getting very dark, and I cannot see. I like to feel that you are near me, and I have no fear." His breathing now grew rapidly weaker, until presently only a faint fluttering sigh could be heard; then his eyes opened again, and he said: "Good-bye, Roger, I am going, dear lad and faithful comrade; good-bye, and G.o.d bless you!

Remember what I said about preparing for to-night; and do not grieve for me, for indeed I am quite happy. Good-bye!" His head fell back, his breathing ceased, and Roger knew that he was now alone. Alone in prison, and still in the hands of the Holy Office. He reverently closed the eyes of his chum, and covered his face, after which he remained seated by the side of the body of the beloved dead, lost in bitter thought and sorrowful retrospection.

He was aroused by hearing the click of the trap-door in the wall as the food was thrust in, and this recalled him to himself.

He remembered Harry's last injunction, that he was to continue the work of cutting through the bars of the grating in order to be ready to escape when midnight came. And he also remembered that Harry had given his sister Mary into his charge, and enjoined him to look after and take care of her.

How could he do this if he remained where he was, and lost his life, even as poor Harry had lost his? No, he must put away his grief and melancholy thoughts until a more convenient season. If he wished to fulfil his promises to his dead friend, he must first escape. Actuated by these reflections, he feverishly seized the tools once more and set to work on the remaining two bars of the grating. The work took longer, labouring by himself, but eventually one bar was cut through entirely, and but one more remained. The night was getting on, however. There was no means of knowing what hour it was, but he felt that it must be nearing the appointed time. He seized one of the saws and began work on the last bar, and at last cut it through also at the top. He had barely finished that part of his task when a pebble came clattering up against the wall just below the grating. The man was there already then! He left the bar for a moment and lowered away the cord, and presently he felt the now familiar jerking at the end and hauled it up. There was a missive at the end, and, unfastening it from the cord, Roger took it to the friendly patch of moonlight and read as follows:--

"I have heard the news already, and am sorry. But I have come to save you, as it is to be your turn to-morrow. Come at once, if you can; but if you have not quite finished, I can wait a little. When you are ready, send down the cord, and I will attach the rope. You can haul that up and fasten it securely. Then climb down as quickly as you can.

"We are in luck to-night. Before dark fell I noticed an English vessel in the offing. She is still there. If we can but seize a boat we shall be able to reach her, and we shall then be safe, so hasten."

Roger very quickly glanced through this communication, and prepared to finish his work on the bar, when he noticed that it was the only one remaining. In his abstraction he had already cut through one end of the last bar--the only one to which he could secure the rope. Luckily, he had cut it at the top end; so he trusted that, if the rope were fastened securely at the bottom, it would bear his weight. He quickly lowered away his cord again, and in another minute felt the welcome tug, which signified that the means of his escape was secured at the end of the cord. He hauled away slowly, for this time the burden was heavy, but eventually he saw the end of a good stout rope make its appearance at the grating. He gathered in a sufficient length, and secured it firmly to the one remaining bar; and, as he did so, it dawned upon him that, had his rescue come but a little later, he would himself, in his grief and abstraction, have destroyed his only chance of ever being able to escape, by removing the last bar altogether.

All being now ready, Roger went over to Harry's body, and, tenderly kissing the poor white lips, said, very softly: "Good-bye, dear lad, until we meet again. I will amply avenge thee!" Then, with his knife he cut off a lock of his friend's hair, and placed it securely in his bosom. He cast one more look round the cell, and then hauled himself up into the embrasure, and, forcing his body through the opening, seized the rope, with a fervent prayer in his heart for deliverance, and began the descent. After what seemed an eternity he felt a pair of strong arms flung round him, and he was eased to the ground.

"Come along, sir," exclaimed the unknown man in a whisper; "we have no time to lose. They seem more wakeful than usual to-night, aloft there,"

pointing upward at the building with his thumb, "and they may find out your absence at any moment. Then we should both be lost, unless we were well clear of this accursed building. Now, speak no more, on your life, but do as I do, and follow me. If anybody accosts us, leave the answering to me. Cover your face as well as you can, and come along."

He grasped Roger's hand, and together they set off through the darkness.

The rope they were obliged to leave as it was, having no means of removing it. Through the little gateway--which Roger had seen this same man pa.s.s on one occasion--they went, and found themselves in another and much larger courtyard, planted with all kinds of flowering shrubs and trees. These could only be dimly seen in the darkness, but Roger judged, from their presence, that they were now going through that part of the building where the quarters of the occupants were situated.

After a short time, occupied in fast walking, they came to an alleyway, or small avenue, down which they hastened, and at the end of this was a closed door of exceptionally stout and strong construction. Roger believed, seeing it closed, that their attempt at escape had met with a premature end; but no, the guide pressed a handle gently, and the door swung open, and as Roger stepped out he felt the cool salt breeze blowing on his face, and he knew that he was free at last. Free, after months of weary imprisonment, torture, and suffering; yes, free! His whole body seemed to expand to the grateful influence of the gentle sea-breeze; but his heart was very, very sad for the loss of his friend.

The two fugitives plunged onward, across streets, down alleys, and up steps, until they come to a huge open square, at the rear of which an enormous building towered high. In the middle of the square was to be made out, dimly, a pile or heap of some sort, with what looked liked a short, thick pole, standing upright above it. Roger asked his guide in a whisper what it was. The man replied:

"This big square is the Plaza of Vera Cruz, and the large building yonder is the cathedral. That peculiar-shaped object you see there is a heap of wood and straw surrounding a stake, and on that heap, bound to that stake, you and your friend were doomed to die to-morrow!"

Roger felt his flesh creep, and hurried forward at an increased rate of speed. Presently, after going down a very narrow and steep street, Roger perceived that they had reached the beach, and he heard the dull "boom" of the surf as it rolled in and broke on the sand.

The guide now spoke to him. "Do you see a small light out there, well away in the offing?"

"I think I can see something of the kind," replied Roger.

"Well," explained the man, "that vessel is my old s.h.i.+p, the _Elizabeth_.

I was aboard her last time she came out here, and I was captured during one of her actions. She is one of Mr Cavendish's vessels. I hear that he left her in these seas to harry the Spaniards, whilst he took the rest of the fleet round the other side, where he has just captured their plate fleet. I shall be right glad to get back aboard her again."

"What!" exclaimed Roger in astonishment; "is that the dear old _Elizabeth_? Why, I know her captain and crew well. Many is the time I have been aboard her."

"Is that so, sir?" queried the man. "Then you will know old Cary, perhaps, who used to be aboard her."

"Ay," replied Roger, "I know him well; but he was on the flag-s.h.i.+p, the _Stag Royal_, and not the _Elizabeth_, when I saw him last."

"Well," said the sailor, "in any case we must not waste time--hark, hark, there go the bells! They have discovered your escape. Now we must be moving, for our very lives. This way."

And he hurried along a quay wall, which formed one of the arms of a little harbour where small craft might lie.

The bells were indeed clanging wildly, and the noise was deafening.

Voices were to be heard now--snouts and cries; though whether the people were yet on their track or not they could not tell. Along the wall they hastened at a run, until they came to a small lateen-rigged vessel, secured to the farthest end of the mole, and with her one huge sail roughly furled round the yard. They dashed on board, cut the ropes through, and the sailor, swarming up the rigging, cut the las.h.i.+ngs, and the foot of the lateen sail dropped down on deck. Roger hauled the sheet aft and made it fast, then sprang to the tiller, and the little craft began to move away from the mole under the influence of the breeze.

"Lucky we found no one aboard," gasped the sailor, whose name was Mathews; "but then I did not expect that there would be anybody about; they never leave a watch on these little craft."

Roger still grasped the helm, and steered through the harbour's mouth for the tiny point of light, which was the beacon of their safety, while Mathews busied himself with the sail, and with making all snug on deck.

Although the town of Vera Cruz itself was still in darkness, away to the eastward the first streaks of day were already showing, and the light on the English man-of-war lying in the offing was growing fainter. Away behind them, from the direction of the mole, the two fugitives could hear a sound as of many people in pursuit, and presently a dark patch detached itself from the darkness, and appeared to be following them; and soon they made it out to be the sail of a vessel very similar to the one they had so unceremoniously captured. She was a much larger craft, and after a while there could be no doubt that she was overhauling them.

But they were now drawing well out toward the English vessel, although the latter had not yet sighted them, and the issue, so far, hung on the race between the two feluccas. The pursuing vessel crept up closer and ever closer, and Roger and Mathews began to picture themselves as adorning that bonfire in the plaza after all.

But now the English s.h.i.+p seemed to awake to what was going forward, and to take in the situation at once. That one felucca was flying and the other pursuing they could see at a glance. There was a puff of white smoke from her side, and a shot flew screaming over their heads and plunged into the water just in front of the pursuing felucca. Still she held on, gaining remorselessly. Her crew began to fire at the fugitives, compelling them to steer in a crouching position below the bulwarks. By an occasional backward glance Roger saw her gradually creeping up, and wondered why the English s.h.i.+p did not fire again; then he discovered that his own vessel was in the line of fire. The Spaniards had cleverly managed to get exactly behind him, so that the English could not fire without hitting the foremost vessel. Therefore Roger risked his life and liberty in a desperate manoeuvre. With a sweep of the tiller he put the helm hard over, and the little vessel bounded away on the opposite tack, leaving her pursuer without shelter.

The English s.h.i.+p--the crew of which were evidently waiting for something of the sort to happen--took immediate advantage of her opportunity, and let fly her whole broadside, luckily bringing down the pursuer's mast.

After that the fugitives were safe, and half an hour later were on board the old _Elizabeth_, Roger talking to the captain and his fellow-officers, and Mathews below, relating marvellous adventures to his former mess-mates. Roger gave a full and graphic account of all that had happened to himself and Harry, and told of his poor friend's death.

Luckily it turned out that the _Elizabeth_ was on her way from the Indies to England, and had only anch.o.r.ed during the night in the hope of sighting one more prize; so it was by the merest chance that Roger escaped after all. The captain now made sail, and pointed his vessel's bows for home. The voyage lasted just three months, and they met with no single enemy on the whole way.

The s.h.i.+p sailed into Plymouth Sound one bright summer's morning, and, after his long absence, Roger looked once more on the country of his birth. Taking leave of the captain and officers the moment that the s.h.i.+p was moored and he was at liberty, he made his way up the river, as once before, to his home.

He found all his people alive and well, and great and long-continued were the rejoicings at his safe return; but poor Mary Edgwyth remained for a long time quite inconsolable at the loss of her dearly-loved brother.

But time heals all wounds, and when at length Roger asked her a certain question, her sorrow had sufficiently abated to admit of her saying "Yes" by way of answer.

Prior to this, however, Roger fitted out a small expedition on his own account, and sailed for Lonely Inlet, in order to secure the treasure of Jose Leirya.

He found it, strangely enough, in the identical cave where Harry and he had kept the savages at bay, and its value proved to be vastly greater than even he had imagined, despite all that he had heard regarding it.

Roger remained in those seas only long enough to secure the treasure, upon successfully accomplis.h.i.+ng which he turned his bows once again for home, arriving in the summer, even as he had done before. Meanwhile the lapse of time had so far ameliorated Mary's sorrow for the loss of her brother that there was nothing now to prevent the marriage taking place, and on a certain lovely summer's morning Roger and Mary were united in Plympton Church; and their married life was all that their best friends could desire for them.

With part of the treasure Roger fitted out a few small s.h.i.+ps of his own, which he sent to the Indies to harry the Dons and avenge the death of his friend; but he did not himself go with the expeditions, saying that, unless his country required his services, he would remain at home and take care of Mary.

In due course a little son came to them, whom they named Harry, in remembrance of the one who was gone; and with the arrival of the little new-comer all sorrowful memory of the past was finally wiped out, leaving only the future to be looked forward to, bright and rose-coloured.

Thus, after all the deeds of horror and bloodshed by which the treasure of Jose Leirya had been acc.u.mulated, that same treasure was productive of good at last; for by Roger's judicious use of it, and his generous yet discriminative charity, he healed as many hurts perhaps as had been inflicted in the acc.u.mulation of it.

The story of those expeditions fitted out by Roger against his hated enemies the Spaniards, and of the dire and terrible vengeance that they wrought upon Alvarez, const.i.tute in themselves a very complete history, teeming with adventure, which the present chronicler hopes some day to place upon record.