Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer: A Romance of the Spanish Main

"To me!" he cried loudly, hoping some of his men were within call. "Alvarado!"

As he spoke Morgan closed with him once more, shouting:

"On him, de Lussan! Let him have it, Black Dog! We've disposed of one!"

As the blades crossed again, the desperate Spaniard, who was a swordsman of swordsmen, put forth all his power. There was a quick interchange of thrust and parry, and the weapon went whirling from the hand of the chief buccaneer. Quick as thought Alvarado shortened his arm and drove home the stroke. Morgan's life trembled in the balance. The maroon, however, who had been seeking a chance to fire, threw himself between the two men and received the force of the thrust full in the heart. His pistol was discharged harmlessly. He fell dead at his master's feet without even a groan. No more would Black Dog watch behind the old man's chair. He had been faithful to his hideous leader and his hideous creed. Before Alvarado could recover his guard, de Lussan struck him with his broken sword. The blow was parried by arm and dagger, but the force of it sent the Spaniard reeling against the wall. At the same instant Morgan seized a pistol and snapped it full in his face. The weapon missed fire, but the buccaneer, clutching the barrel, beat him down with a fierce blow.

"So much for these two," he roared. "Let's to the street."

De Lussan seized Alvarado's sword, throwing away his own. Morgan picked up his own blade again, and the two ran from the room.

A stern fight was being waged in the square, whither all the combatants had congregated, the buccaneers driven there, the Spaniards following. The disciplined valor and determination of the Spanish, however, were slowly causing the buccaneers to give ground. No Spanish soldiers that ever lived could have defeated the old-time buccaneers, but these were different, and their best men had been killed with Teach and L'Ollonois. The opportune arrival of Morgan and de Lussan, however, put heart in their men. Under the direction of these two redoubtable champions they began to make stouter resistance.

The battle might have gone in their favor if, in the very nick of time, the Viceroy himself and the remainder of the troops had not come up. They had not thought it necessary to come on foot since the surprise had been effected, and the Viceroy rightly divined they would have more advantage if mounted. Choosing the very freshest horses therefore, he had put fifty of the best soldiers upon them and had led them up on a gallop, bidding the others follow on with speed. The fighting had gradually concentrated before the church and in the eastern fort, where Braziliano had his headquarters. The arrival of the horsemen decided the day. Morgan and de Lussan, fighting desperately in the front ranks with splendid courage, were overridden. De Lussan was wounded, fell, and was trampled to death by the Spanish horsemen, and Morgan was taken prisoner, alive and unharmed. When he saw that all was lost, he had thrown himself upon the enemy, seeking a death in the fight, which, by the Viceroy's orders, was denied him. Many of the other buccaneers also were captured alive; indeed, the Viceroy desired as many of them saved as possible. He could punish a living man in a way to make him feel something of the torture he had inflicted, and for this reason those who surrendered had been spared for the present.

Indeed, after the capture of Morgan the remaining buccaneers threw down their arms and begged for mercy. They might as well have appealed to a stone wall for that as to their Spanish captors. A short shrift and a heavy punishment were promised them in the morning. Meanwhile, after a brief struggle, the east fort was taken by assault, and Braziliano was wounded and captured with most of his men. The town was in the possession of the Spanish at last. It was all over in a quarter of an hour.

Instantly the streets were filled with a mob of men, women, and children, whose lives had been spared, bewildered by the sudden release from their imminent peril and giving praise to God and the Viceroy and his men. As soon as he could make himself heard in the confusion de Lara inquired for Alvarado.

"Where is he?" he cried. "And de Tobar?"

"My lord," answered one of the party, "we were directed to take the west fort and those two cavaliers were in the lead, but the pressure of the pirates was so great that we were stopped and have not seen them since. They were ahead of us."

"De Cordova," cried the old man to one of his colonels, "take charge of the town. Keep the women and children and inhabitants together where they are for the present. Let your soldiery patrol the streets and search every house from top to bottom. Let no one of these ruffianly scoundrels escape. Take them alive. We'll deal with them in the morning. Fetch Morgan to the west fort after us. Come, gentlemen, we shall find our comrades there, and pray God the ladies have not yet – are still unharmed!"

A noble old soldier was de Lara. He had not sought his daughter until he had performed his full duty in taking the town.

The anteroom of the fort they found in a state of wild confusion. The dead bodies of the sentry and the others the two cavaliers had cut down on the stairs were ruthlessly thrust aside, and the party of gentlemen with the Viceroy in the lead poured into the guardroom. There, on his back, was stretched the hideous body of the half-breed where he had fallen. There, farther away, the unfortunate de Tobar lay, gasping for breath yet making no outcry. He was leaning on his arm and staring across the room, with anguish in his face not due to the wound he had received but to a sight which broke his heart.

"Alas, de Tobar!" cried the Viceroy. "Where is Mercedes?"

He followed the glance of the dying man. There at the other side of the room lay a prostrate body, and over it bent a moaning, sobbing figure. It was Mercedes.

"Mercedes!" cried the Viceroy running toward her. "Alvarado!"

"Tell me," he asked in a heartbreaking voice. "Art thou – "

"Safe yet and – well," answered the girl; "they came in the very nick of time. Oh, Alvarado, Alvarado!" she moaned.

"Señorita," cried one of the officers, "Don Felipe here is dying. He would speak with you."

Mercedes suffered herself to be led to where de Tobar lay upon the floor. One of his comrades had taken his head on his knee. The very seconds of his life were numbered. Lovely in her grief Mercedes knelt at his side, a great pity in her heart. The Viceroy stepped close to him.

"I thank you, too," she said. "Poor Don Felipe, he and you saved me, but at the expense of your lives. Would God you could have been spared!"

"Nay," gasped the dying man, "thou lovest him. I – watched thee. I heard thee call upon his name. Thou wert not for me, and so I die willingly. He is a noble gentleman. Would he might have won thee!"

The man trembled with the violent effort it cost him to speak. He gasped faintly and strove to smile. By an impulse for which she was ever after grateful, she bent her head, slipped her arm around his neck, lifted him up, and kissed him. In spite of his death agony, at that caress he smiled up at her.

"Now," he murmured, "I die happy – content – you kissed – me – Jesu – Mercedes – "

It was the end of as brave a lover, as true a cavalier as ever drew sword or pledged hand in a woman's cause.

"He is dead," said the officer.

"God rest his soul, a gallant gentleman," said the Viceroy, taking off his hat, and his example was followed by every one in the room.

"And Captain Alvarado?" said Mercedes, rising to her feet and turning to the other figure.

"Señorita," answered another of the officers, "he lives."

"Oh, God, I thank Thee!"

"See – he moves!"

A little shudder crept through the figure of the prostrate Captain, who had only been knocked senseless by the fierce blow and was otherwise unhurt.

"His eyes are open! Water, quick!"

With skilled fingers begot by long practice the cavalier cut the lacings of Alvarado's doublet and gave him water, then a little wine. As the young Captain returned to consciousness, once more the officers crowded around him, the Viceroy in the centre, Mercedes on her knees again.

"Mercedes," whispered the young Captain. "Alive – unharmed?"

"Yes," answered Mercedes brokenly, "thanks to God and thee."

"And de Tobar," generously asserted Alvarado. "Where is he?"

"Dead."

"Oh, brave de Tobar! And the city – "

"Is ours."

"And Morgan?"

"Here in my hands," said the Viceroy sternly.

"Thank God, thank God! And now, your Excellency, my promise. I thought as I was stricken down there would be no need for you to – "

"Thou hast earned life, Alvarado, not death, and thou shalt have it."

"Señors," said Alvarado, whose faintness was passing from him, "I broke my plighted word to the Viceroy and Don Felipe de Tobar. I love this lady and was false to my charge. Don Alvaro promised me death for punishment, and I crave it. I care not for life without – "

"And did he tell thee why he broke his word?" asked Mercedes, taking his hands in her own and looking up at her father. "It was my fault. I made him. In despair I strove to throw myself over the cliff on yonder mountain and he caught me in his arms. With me in his arms – Which of you, my lords," she said, throwing back her head with superb pride, "would not have done the same? Don Felipe de Tobar is dead. He was a gallant gentleman, but I loved him not. My father, you will not part us now?"

"No," said the old man, "I will not try. I care not now what his birth or lineage, he hath shown himself a man of noblest soul. You heard the wish of de Tobar. It shall be so. This is the betrothal of my daughter, gentlemen. Art satisfied, Captain? She is noble enough, she hath lineage and race enough for both of you. My interest with our royal master will secure you that patent of nobility you will adorn, for bravely have you won it."

CHAPTER XXII

IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN SEES A CROSS, CHERISHES A HOPE, AND MAKES A CLAIM

These noble and generous words of the Viceroy put such heart into the young Spanish soldier that, forgetting his wounds and his weakness, he rose to his feet. Indeed, the blow that struck him down had stunned him rather than anything else, and he would not have been put out of the combat so easily had it not been that he was exhausted by the hardships of those two terrible days through which he had just passed. The terrific mountain climb, the wild ride, the fierce battle, his consuming anxiety for the woman he loved – these things had so wearied him that he had been unequal to the struggle. The stimulants which had been administered to him by his loving friends had been of great service also in reviving his strength, and he faced the Viceroy, his hand in that of Mercedes, with a flush of pleasure and pride upon his face.

Yet, after all, it was the consciousness of having won permission to marry the woman whom he adored and who loved him with a passion that would fain overmatch his own, were that possible, that so quickly restored him to strength. With the realization of what he had gained there came to him such an access of vigor as amazed those who a few moments before had thought him dead or dying.

"But for these poor people who have so suffered, this, my lord," he exclaimed with eager gratitude and happiness, "hath been a happy day for me. Last night, sir, on the beach yonder, I found a mother. A good sister, she, of Holy Church, who, rather than carry the ladders which gave access to the town, with the fearful alternative of dishonor as a penalty for refusal, killed herself with her own hand. She died not, praise God, before she had received absolution from a brave priest, although the holy father paid for his office with his life, for Morgan killed him. To-night I find, by the blessing of God, the favor of your Excellency and the kindness of the lady's heart – a wife."

He dropped upon his knees as he spoke and pressed a long, passionate kiss upon the happy Mercedes' extended hand.

"Lady," he said, looking up at her, his soul in his eyes, his heart in his voice, "I shall strive to make myself noble for thee, and all that I am, and shall be, shall be laid at thy feet."

"I want not more than thyself, Señor Alvarado," answered the girl bravely before them all, her own cheeks aglow with happy color. "You have enough honor already. You satisfy me."

"Long life to Donna de Lara and Captain Alvarado!" cried old Agramonte, lifting up his hand. "The handsomest, the noblest, the bravest pair in New Spain! May they be the happiest! Give me leave, sir," added the veteran captain turning to the Viceroy. "You have done well. Say I not true, gentlemen? And as for the young captain, as he is fit to stand with the best, it is meet that he should win the heart of the loveliest. His mother he has found. None may know his father – "

"Let me be heard," growled a deep voice in broken Spanish, as the one-eyed old sailor thrust himself through the crowd.

"Hornigold, by hell!" screamed the bound buccaneer captain, who had been a silent spectator of events from the background. "I missed you. Have you – "

The boatswain, mindful of his safety, for in the hurry and confusion of the attack any Spaniard would have cut him down before he could explain, had followed hard upon the heels of Alvarado and de Tobar when they entered the fort and had concealed himself in one of the inner rooms until he saw a convenient opportunity for disclosing himself. He had been a witness to all that had happened in the hall, and he realized that the time had now come to strike the first of the blows he had prepared against his old captain. That in the striking, he wrecked the life and happiness of those he had assisted for his own selfish purpose mattered little to him. He had so long brooded and thought upon one idea, so planned and schemed to bring about one thing, that a desire for revenge fairly obsessed him.

As soon as he appeared from behind the hangings where he had remained in hiding, it was evident to every one that he was a buccaneer. Swords were out in an instant.

"What's this?" cried the Viceroy in great surprise. "Another pirate free and unbound? Seize him!"

Three or four of the men made a rush toward the old buccaneer, but with wonderful agility he avoided them and sprang to the side of Alvarado.

"Back, señors!" he cried coolly and composedly, facing their uplifted points.

"My lord," said Alvarado, "bid these gentlemen withdraw their weapons. This man is under my protection."

"Who is he?"

"He I told you of, sir, who set me free, provided Donna Mercedes with a weapon, opened the gate for us. One Benjamin Hornigold."

"Thou damned traitor!" yelled that fierce, high voice on the outskirts of the crowd.

There was a sudden commotion. A bound man burst through the surprised cavaliers and threw himself, all fettered though he was, upon the sailor. He was without weapon or use of hand, yet he bit him savagely on the cheek.

"Hell!" he cried, as they pulled him away and dragged him to his feet, "had I a free hand for a second you'd pay! As it is, I've marked you, and you'll carry the traitor's brand until you die! Curse you, whatever doom comes to me, may worse come to you!"

The old buccaneer was an awful figure, as he poured out a horrible torrent of curses and imprecations upon the traitor, grinding his teeth beneath his foam-flecked lips, and even the iron-hearted sailor, striving to staunch the blood, involuntarily shrank back appalled before him.

"Señor," he cried, appealing to Alvarado, "I was to have protection!"

"You shall have it," answered the young soldier, himself shrinking away from the traitor, although by his treason he had so greatly benefited. "My lord, had it not been for this man, I'd still be a prisoner, the lady Mercedes like those wretched women weeping in the streets. I promised him, in your name, protection, immunity from punishment, and liberty to depart with as much of the treasure of the Porto Bello plate galleon, which was wrecked on the sands a few days ago, of which I told you, as he could carry."

"And you did not exceed your authority, Captain Alvarado. We contemn treason in whatsoever guise it doth appear, and we hate and loathe a traitor, but thy word is passed. It will be held inviolate as our own. You are free, knave. I will appoint soldiers to guard you, for should my men see you, not knowing this, they would cut you down; and when occasion serves you may take passage in the first ship that touches here and go where you will. Nay, we will be generous, although we like you not. We are much indebted to you. We have profited by what we do despise. We would reward you. Ask of me something that I may measure my obligation for a daughter's honor saved, if you can realize or feel what that may be."

"My lord, hear me," said the boatswain quickly. "There be reasons and reasons for betrayals, and I have one. This man was my captain. I perilled my life a dozen times to save his; I followed him blindly upon a hundred terrible ventures; I lived but for his service. My soul – when I had a soul – was at his command; I loved him. Ay, gentlemen, rough, uncouth, old though I am, I loved this man. He could ask of me anything that I could have given him and he would not have been refused.

"Sirs, there came to me a young brother of mine, not such as I, a rude, unlettered sailor, but a gentleman – and college bred. There are quarterings on my family scutcheon, sirs, back in Merry England, had I the wit or care to trace it. He was a reckless youth, chafing under the restraints of that hard religion to which we had been born. The free life of a brother-of-the-coast attracted him. He became like me, a buccaneer. I strove to dissuade him, but without avail. He was the bravest, the handsomest, the most gallant of us all. He came into my old heart like a son. We are not all brute, gentlemen. I have waded in blood and plunder like the rest, but in every heart there is some spot that beats for things better. I divided my love between him and my captain. This man" – he pointed to his old master with his blunted finger, drawing himself up until he looked taller than he was, his one eye flashing with anger and hatred, as with a stern, rude eloquence he recited his wrongs, the grim indictment of a false friend – "this man betrayed us at Panama. With what he had robbed his comrades of he bought immunity, even knighthood, from the King of England. He was made Vice-Governor of Jamaica and his hand fell heavily upon those who had blindly followed him in the old days, men who had served him and trusted him, as I – men whose valor and courage had made him what he was.

"He took the lad I loved, and because his proud spirit would not break to his heavy hand and he answered him like the bold, free sailor he was, he hanged him like a dog, sirs! I – I – stooped for his life. I, who cared not for myself, offered to stand in his place upon the gallows platform, though I have no more taste for the rope than any of you, if only he might go free. He laughed at me! He mocked me! I urged my ancient service – he drove me from him with curses and threats like a whipped dog. I could have struck him down then, but that I wanted to save him for a revenge that might measure my hate, slow and long and terrible. Not mere sudden death, that would not suffice. Something more.

"Treachery? My lord, his was the first. I played his own game and have overcome it with the same. D'ye blame me now? Take your treasure! I want none of it. I want only him and my revenge! Liberty's dear to all of us. I'll give mine up. You may take my life with the rest, but first give me this man. Let me deal with him. I will revenge you all, and when I have finished with him I will yield myself to you."

He was a hideous figure of old hate and rancor, of unslaked passion, of monstrous possibilities of cruel torture. Hardened as they were by the customs of their age to hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, the listeners turned cold at such an exhibition of malefic passion, of consuming hatred. Even Morgan himself, intrepid as he was, shrank from the awful menace of the mordant words.

"My lord!" shouted the unfortunate captain, "give him no heed. He lies in his throat; he lies a thousand times. 'Twas a mutinous dog, that brother of his, that I hanged. I am your prisoner. You are a soldier. I look for speedy punishment, certain death it may be, but let it not be from his hand."

"Think, señors," urged the boatswain; "you would hang him perhaps. It is the worst that you could do. Is that punishment meet for him? He has despoiled women, bereft children, tortured men, in the streets of La Guayra. A more fitting punishment should await him. Think of Panama, of Maracaibo, of Porto Bello! Recall what he did there. Is hanging enough? Give him to me. Let me have my way. You have your daughter, safe, unharmed, within the shelter of her lover's arms. The town is yours. You have won the fight. 'Twas I that did it. Without me your wives, your children, your subjects, would have been slaughtered in Caracas and this dog would have been free to go further afield for prey. He coveted your daughter – would fain make her his slave in some desert island. Give him to me!"

"Old man," said the Viceroy, "I take back my words. You have excuse for your betrayal, but your request I can not grant. I have promised him to Alvarado. Nay, urge me no further. My word is passed."

"Thank you, thank you!" cried Morgan, breathing again.

"Silence, you dog!" said the Viceroy, with a look of contempt on his face. "But take heart, man," he added, as he saw the look of rage and disappointment sweep over the face of the old sailor, "he will not escape lightly. Would God he had blood enough in his body to pay drop by drop for all he hath shed. His death shall be slow, lingering, terrible. You have said it, and you shall see it, too, and you will. He shall have time to repent and to think upon the past. You may glut yourself with his suffering and feed fat your revenge. 'Twill be a meet, a fitting punishment so far as our poor minds can compass. We have already planned it."

"You Spanish hounds!" roared Morgan stoutly, "I am a subject of England. I demand to be sent there for trial."

"You are an outlaw, sir, a man of no country, a foe to common humanity, and taken in your crimes. Silence, I say!" again cried the old man. "You pollute the air with your speech. Take him away and hold him safe. To-morrow he shall be punished."

"Without a trial?" screamed the old buccaneer, struggling forward.

"Thou art tried already. Thou hast been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Alvarado, art ready for duty?"

"Ready, your Excellency," answered the young man, "and for this duty."

"Take him then, I give him into your hands. You know what is to be done; see you do it well."

"Ay, my lord. Into the strong-room with him, men!" ordered the young Spaniard, stepping unsteadily forward.

As he did so the crucifix he wore, which the disorder in his dress exposed to view, flashed into the light once more. Morgan's eyes fastened upon it for the first time.

"By heaven, sir!" he shouted. "Where got ye that cross?"

"From his mother, noble captain," interrupted Hornigold, coming closer.

He had another card to play. He had waited for this moment, and he threw back his head with a long, bitter laugh. There was such sinister, such vicious mockery and meaning in his voice, with not the faintest note of merriment to relieve it, that his listeners looked aghast upon him.

"His mother?" cried Morgan. "Then this is – "

He paused. The assembled cavaliers, Mercedes, and Alvarado stood with bated breath waiting for the terrible boatswain's answer.

"The boy I took into Cuchillo when we were at Panama," said Hornigold in triumph.

"And my son!" cried the old buccaneer with malignant joy.

A great cry of repudiation and horror burst from the lips of Alvarado. The others stared with astonishment and incredulity written on their faces. Mercedes moved closer to her lover and strove to take his hand.

"My lords and gentlemen, hear me," continued the buccaneer, the words rushing from his lips in his excitement, for in the new relationship he so promptly and boldly affirmed, he thought he saw a way of escape from his imminent peril. "There lived in Maracaibo a Spanish woman, Maria Zerega, who loved me. By her there was a child – mine – a boy. I took them with me to Panama. The pestilence raged there after the sack. She fell ill, and as she lay dying besought me to save the boy. I sent Hornigold to her with instructions to do her will, and he carried the baby to the village of Cuchillo with that cross upon his breast and left him. We lost sight of him. There, the next day, you found him. He has English blood in his veins. He is my son, sirs, a noble youth," sneered the old man. "Now you have given me to him. 'Tis not meet that the father should suffer at the hands of the son. You shall set me free," added the man, turning to Alvarado.