An Old Sailor's Yarns Part 16

Isabella was certainly almost overcome by the melancholy intelligence, when first communicated; but weeping and the repose of the morning had tranquillized her, and the facts that she had ascertained had given her fresh courage and hopes. Not daring, however, to urge her uncle too far at that time, as she saw he was out of humor, she was still determined not by any means to regard one, nor two, nor twenty refusals as decisive; but, if he could not be "carried by boarding," to blockade him into compliance. Her uncle's order for her admittance to the prison, she determined only to use occasionally, and as circ.u.mstances pointed out, for fear of exciting suspicion; but to reserve it as a sort of sheet anchor for the perfection of a half-formed scheme that was already agitating her brain.

Under pretence of merely ascertaining that the prisoners were supplied with all the comfort that their situation would admit, but in reality to communicate with her lover, she visited the prison that very day. She found the prisoner, who was already heart-sick of the confinement, independently of its probable termination, walking listlessly up and down the pa.s.sage leading to the inner prison, which was both s.p.a.cious and airy; for, as before observed, his excellency had so far relented as to direct that the prisoners, during the day, should be permitted to enjoy the air. His surprise at seeing her was extreme--not that he doubted she would make an attempt to see him, but he considered it a hopeless one. She met him with tranquillity, almost cheerfulness.

"Thank heaven!" he exclaimed mentally, "there is some hope of once more snuffing fresh air; that sweet girl would never be so composed unless she had some plan in her mind for my delivery. Isabella, dearest Isabella, tell me, for heaven's sake, how have you managed to get into this place, that every one else is so anxious to keep out of? Has the old Don dismounted from his high horse? He has been polite enough to make me a morning call, but I am afraid he does not intend to allow me to return it. However, as long as he permits you to follow his example, I hope that I shall be enabled to bear the disappointment with becoming resignation."

"Hush, hus.h.!.+ how can you talk so giddily, when you know not what may be your fate?"

"Why, hanging is not a favorite Spanish punishment, so I suppose he will honor me so far as to expend a little powder and shot upon me."

"O, Charles! Charles! be quiet, for heaven's sake. Tell me, what did my uncle say?"

"Say? why, he scolded a good deal, said that I had heretofore behaved very decently, and that he was very sorry to see me here."

"He has written to the viceroy, to know what he is to do with you. My uncle, with all his faults, is an angel of mercy, compared with that cold-blooded, bigoted, cruel man. I have read somewhere that it is written over the gates of the infernal regions 'Let all who enter here leave hope behind.' Let all who fall into the hands of that haughty n.o.bleman, whether innocent or guilty, leave hope behind too. He is governed entirely by his priests, and the very circ.u.mstance of your being a Protestant, however harmless, and found in his dominions, would be sufficient to make you an object of hatred and vengeance."

"Well, all that may be; but recollect my country will not tamely permit her sons to be dragged to foreign prisons, without knowing wherefore."

"You cannot suppose that your country will plunge into a war for your sakes?"

"No, no, my love; she would be a fool if she did; but there is a set of fellows called amba.s.sadors, that often do more with their tongues than ten thousand good fellows can with their bayonets. But tell me, if you know, where is the s.h.i.+p? what says the good old Captain Williams to the sc.r.a.pe?"

"The s.h.i.+p has moved farther out, and he has been on sh.o.r.e twice to-day to intercede for you, but without effect, though my uncle has so far relented as to order you all the comforts that you wish."

"I should be obliged to him, then, for the comfort of walking out of prison."

"When the s.h.i.+p moved out of gunshot," continued Isabella, without noticing what she thought his artificial gaiety, "there was some apprehension that Captain Williams intended to make some desperate attempt to release you; but he has been on sh.o.r.e since, and had an interview with my uncle, and the alarm has subsided."

"Well done! that is the best thing I have heard this long time--a whole garrisoned Spanish town thrown into consternation by a single Yankee merchantman! upon my word, I shall entertain a more exalted opinion than ever of Spanish courage."

Isabella permitted him to indulge his national vanity, when she again urged that his situation was but little short of desperate, unless he was speedily relieved from it.

"I know, I know that my head is in the lion's mouth, and how it is to be got out I know not. If I could see Captain Williams--perhaps a good round fine paid to his high mightiness might open these doors."

"I will write to Captain Williams myself," said the young lady, "perhaps something of that kind might be done. In the mean time, whenever you have any wine or other provisions, of which I will see that there shall be no lack, make a point of sharing it with the guard; and, by all means," she added, in a lower tone, "see that the sentry is never forgotten."

"Ha! oho! I see the whole affair--there are never but five men on duty here at night." "Rash, hot-headed creature! there will be no occasion for such madness. Even if you should escape from prison, and reach your s.h.i.+p in safety, which would be next to impossible----"

"Well, what?" said Morton, observing that she was silent. She raised her eyes, swimming in tears.

"I understand you--dear, dear Isabella, do you think I would leave this country without you? No, never."

"Then remain perfectly quiet, attempt nothing, do nothing of yourself.

In the mean time," continued she, rising, "do not abandon yourself either to hope or despair."

With these words she left the prison.

CHAPTER XVI.

As cannons shoot the higher pitches The lower we let down their breeches, I'll make this low, dejected fate Advance me to a greater height.

HUDIBRAS.

Captain Williams, immediately upon his landing on the morning after the events related in the last chapter had taken place, was met at the Port by a woman of rather ordinary appearance, who put a letter into his hands, and retired without speaking. The letter was written in a woman's hand, but without signature, and was as follows:

"SIR:--A friend of Mr. Morton is making every possible exertion to deliver him and his companions from imprisonment. That friend entreats that you would do nothing rashly, or that may give cause of alarm or suspicion to the governor or garrison, or to any of the inhabitants. If you will call this evening at the shop of dame Juanita Gomez, in the plaza of San Blas, a person will meet you there, and explain more fully the friendly intentions of the writer."

The honest seaman, after mature deliberation, came to the conclusion that the writer of this anonymous epistle could be no other than the fair Isabella, of whom he had heard Morton speak so often; and he resolved to attend to its directions most strictly. Accordingly, as a preliminary step, he thought best to reconnoitre the plaza as soon as possible, that he might make no unpleasant mistakes in the dusk of evening.

While at St. Blas, he had another interview with the governor, and endeavored to ascertain the intentions of that dignitary with regard to the destination of his prisoners. The governor, however, seemed to regard that as a state secret, and declined making any but a very evasive answer. As some amends for his severity, he condescended to give Captain Williams full permission to visit the prisoners, of which the veteran immediately availed himself. The kind-hearted old seaman was deeply affected, as he held Morton in his arms with all the affection of a fond father--

"That ever I should live to see my old school-fellow Jonathan Morton's son in such a situation, and not be able to help him,"--were the first words he was able to articulate. Morton endeavored to calm him, by repeated a.s.surances that he felt no apprehension; that he had no doubt that a certain friend was busy in projecting a plan for their deliverance. It was some time before he was sufficiently composed to converse.

"Have you tried the old Don with a few doubloons?" asked Morton.

"No, d--n him, I never thought of that; I can't get a word of common sense or common civility out of the old mule."

"I believe if he had taken the boat-load of goods when he took us, that he would have been more willing to listen to you."

"Ah, very like; the old fox missed the goose, and he is venting his malice upon you in stead. But, my dear boy, I don't exactly know how to go to work to offer a bribe. Damme, I could land thirty men this blessed night, and pull this old rookery down, and get you all out that way; but as for bribery, it is a devilish dirty piece of business, to make the best of it; besides, I tell you, I don't know how; if I did, I would try it, as dirty as I think it."

Morton, could not forbear smiling at the old man's unwillingness to employ a piece of machinery, at the present day so indispensable in our government throughout all its branches; he a.s.sured him that nothing was more simple; it was only to wait upon the Don in private, and request his acceptance of either cash or certain valuable merchandize, that would be attractive in the sight of the governor. "There are my silver-mounted pistols, and curious East India dagger, and my rifle, that all might be thrown out as baits to begin with;"--it was all in vain; the blunt old seaman still persisted that bribery, or any thing that approximated it, was but a dirty affair after all; and that, although he would leave no plan untried to effect the liberation of the prisoners, there was a moral contamination attached to the mode proposed that he neither could nor would submit to.

True to his appointment, Captain Williams, soon after sunset, repaired to dame Juanita's shop, with the location of which he had previously made himself acquainted. He was introduced by that worthy old lady into her back parlor, if a little apartment ten feet square, with a clay floor and no windows, deserves so dignified, or rather so _comfortable_ a t.i.tle; and in half an hour a female, closely veiled, entered the room.

Notwithstanding her disguise, the old seaman had tact enough to perceive that his companion was young and graceful, or in more modern language, genteel, while the silvery music of her voice, as she addressed him, convinced him that she could be no otherwise than beautiful.

"Are you," said the lady, in a hesitating, tremulous voice, "are you the commander of the American s.h.i.+p in the bay?"

"I am; and you, senorita, are the lady who wrote me the note that I received this morning?"

"Yes, I--that is, I sent you a note requesting to see you."

"And you are the generous, devoted, and true friend that takes such a lively interest in the fate of my friend and officer, and his companions in prison and misfortune?"

"I am--I am," replied the lady hurriedly.

"And you are, in short," continued the commander, rising and respectfully offering his hand, "you are the lady Isabella de Luna?"

"I cannot deny it," said she in a faint voice.

"Then, madam, you see before you one who is acquainted with your story.

Nay, never hang your head for shame; Charles Morton is worth any woman's love. I am here ready with hand, heart, and head, to second any and every plan that you may propose, to effect his escape."

The lady remained silent for a few moments, then placing her small hand in the broad, hard palm of the old seaman, replied, "I know that I can put the most implicit confidence in you. I have heard from others--why should I deny it? Mr. Morton has told me often, that, next to his father, he regards you with affection and esteem as his dearest and truest friend."