Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer Part 25

"When was this?" asked Hornigold.

"After the sack of Panama. And the name of the village was----"

"Cuchillo----" interrupted Hornigold triumphantly.

"My G.o.d, senor, how know you that?"

"I was there."

"You were there?" cried the young man.

"Ay."

"For love of heaven, can you tell me who I am, what I am?"

"In good time, young sir, and for a price. At present I know but one thing."

"That is----"

"There lies your mother," answered the buccaneer slowly, pointing to the white figure on the sand.

"My mother! Madre de Dios!" cried Alvarado, stepping forward and looking down upon the upturned face with its closely cut white hair, showing beautiful in the moonlight. "G.o.d rest her soul, she hath a lovely face and died in defence of her honor like the gentlewoman she should be. My mother--how know you this?"

"In the sack of Panama a woman gave me a male child, and for money I agreed to take it and leave it in a safe and secluded spot outside the city walls. I carried it at the hazard of my life as far as Cuchillo and there left it."

"But how know you that the child you left is I?"

"Around the baby's neck the mother, ere she gave him to me, placed this curious cross you wear. 'Tis of such cunning workmans.h.i.+p that there is naught like it under the sun that ever I have seen. I knew it even in the faint light when my eyes fell upon it. I left the child with a peasant woman to take him where I had been directed. I believed him safe. On leaving Panama that village lay in our backward path. We burned it down. I saw the baby again. Because I had been well paid I saved him from instant death at the hands of the buccaneers, who would have tossed him in the air on the point of their spears. I shoved the crucifix, which would have tempted them because it was silver, underneath the dress and left the child. He was alive when we departed."

"And the day after," cried Alvarado, "de Lara's troops came through that village and found me still wearing that cross. My mother! Loving G.o.d, can it be? But my father----"

"What shall I have if I tell you?"

"Riches, wealth, all--Set us free and----"

"Not now. I can not now. Wait."

"At least, Donna Mercedes."

"Man, 'twould be my life that would pay; but I'll keep careful watch over her. I have yet some influence with the Captain. To-morrow I'll find a way to free you--you must do the rest."

"Mercedes," said Alvarado, "heardst thou all?"

"But little," answered the girl.

"That lady--is believed to have been my mother!"

"Gentle or simple," said the girl, "she died in defence of her honor, like the n.o.blest, the best. This for thee, good sister," she whispered, bending down and kissing the pale forehead. "And may I do the like when my time comes. Thou shouldst be proud of her, my Alvarado," she said, looking up at him. "See!" she cried suddenly as the resemblance, which was indeed strong between them, struck her. "Thou hast her face. Her white hair was once golden like thine. He tells the truth. Oh, sir, for Christ's sake, have pity upon us!"

A messenger came staggering toward them across the woods.

"Master Hornigold," he cried.

"Ay, ay."

"We've taken the town. The Captain wants you and your prisoners. You'll find him in the guard room. Oh, ho, there's merry times to-night in La Guayra! All h.e.l.l's let loose, and we are devils." He laughed boisterously and drunkenly as he spoke and lurched backward over the sands.

"We must be gone," said Hornigold. "Rise, mistress. Come, sir."

"But this lady," urged Alvarado--his lips could scarcely form the unfamiliar word "mother"--"and the good priest? You will not leave them here?"

"The rising tide will bear them out to sea."

"A moment--by your leave," said Alvarado, stepping toward the dead.

a.s.sisted by Mercedes, for he was still bound, he stooped down and touched his lips to those of the dead woman, whispering a prayer as he did so. Rising to his feet he cried:

"But my father--who is he--who was he?"

"We shall find that out."

"But his name?"

"I'm not sure, I can not tell now," answered Hornigold evasively; "but with this clew the rest should be easy. Trust me, and when we can discuss this matter undisturbed----"

"But I would know now!"

"You forget, young sir, that you are a prisoner, and must suit your will to my pleasure. Forward!"

But the soul of the old buccaneer was filled with fierce joy. He thought he knew the secret of the crucifix now. The Spanish captain's mother lay dead upon the sands, but his father lived. He was sure of it. He would free Alvarado and bring him down upon Morgan. He chuckled with fiendish delight as he limped along. He had his revenge now; it lay in the hollow of his hand, and 'twas a rare one indeed. Mercedes being bound again, the little party marched across the beach and the bodies of the priest and the nun were left alone while the night tide came rippling up the strand.

Scarcely had the party disappeared within the gate of the fort when the priest slowly and painfully lifted himself on his hands and crawled toward the woman. While the buccaneer had talked with the abbess he had returned to consciousness and had listened. Bit by bit he gathered the details of her story, and in truth he knew it of old. By turning his head he had seen the crucifix on the young man's breast and he also had recognized it. He lay still and silent, however, feigning death, for to have discovered himself would have resulted in his instant despatch.

When they had gone he painfully crawled over to the body of the poor nun.

"Isabella," he murmured, giving her her birth name, "thou didst suffer.

Thou tookest thine own life, but the loving G.o.d will forgive thee. I am glad that I had strength and courage to absolve thee before I fell. And I did not know thee. 'Tis so many years since. Thy son, that brave young captain--I will see thee righted. I wonder----"

He moved nearer to her, scrutinizing her carefully, and then, with an apology even to the dead, the old man opened the front of her gown.

"Ay, ay, I thought so," he said, as his eye caught a glimpse of a gold chain against her white neck. Gently he lifted it, unclasped it, drew it forth. There was a locket upon it. Jewels sparkled upon its surface. She had worn it all these years.

"_O, vanitas vanitatum!_" murmured the priest, yet compa.s.sionately.

"What is it that pa.s.ses the love of woman?"

He slipped it quietly within the breast of his habit and then fell prostrate on the sand, faint from pain and loss of blood. Long the two figures lay there in the moonlight while the rising tide lipped the s.h.i.+ning sands. The cool water at last restored consciousness to one of the still forms, but though they laved the beautiful face of the other with tender caresses they could not call back the troubled life that had pa.s.sed into peaceful eternity. Painfully the old priest raised himself upon his hands and looked about him.

"O G.o.d!" he murmured, "give me strength to live until I can tell the story. Sister Maria Christina--Isabella that was--thou were brave and thou wert beautiful; thou hast served our Holy Church long and well. If I could only lay thee in some consecrated ground--but soul like to thine makes holy e'en the sea which shall bear thee away. Shriven thou wert, buried thou shalt be."

The man struggled to his knees, clasped his hands before him, and began the burial service of his ancient Church.