Antony Waymouth: or, The Gentlemen Adventurers

During the interval the stranger ship had approached as near the shore as it was safe to venture, and had there cast anchor, just beyond the range of the guns of the castle. Several boats were seen to be lowered from her lofty sides. They were at once filled with men and pulled towards the shore, under cover of the ship’s guns. The ship had come to an anchor while the fighting was going forward, and no sooner were the enemy repulsed than Lizard turned his eyes towards the ocean to ascertain what the stranger was about. He took a steady gaze at her, and then giving a loud slap with his hand on his thigh, he exclaimed —

“The Lion, lads, the Lion! Hurrah! Old England for ever! Hurrah!”

His shouts made all his companions turn their eyes in the same direction, and so absorbed were they in gazing at the stranger, that had the enemy stormed at that moment the little English band would have been cut to pieces. A second glance was not necessary to convince Edward that the ship he saw was indeed the Lion herself.

The Portugals, it seemed by their movements, began to have some suspicions of the character of the stranger, and of the object of the boats in coming on shore. It made them still more eager to recapture their former prisoners, and to retire to the fort. Doubly resolved, however, were Raymond and his men to hold out till their countrymen could come to their rescue. The boats were steering for a bay between the rock and the castle. Again the Portugals began to assail the rock with fierce cries of vengeance. The seamen shouted in return. Hotter and hotter grew the fight; the eleven defenders of the rock stood boldly at bay, hurling the Portugals down the rock, casting their pistols, which they snatched from their hands, after them, and often bringing their own quarter-staves into play. Still, from loss of blood and the constant attacks of the enemy, their strength began to fail; even Edward felt that nature would give way, when the stranger’s boats reached the beach. Each boat was full of men, who leaped on shore and formed in two parties – one pushing towards the castle, the other, shouting “St. George and Merry England!” towards the rock. On they came. There was no doubt that they were friends. Some of the Portugals faced about to meet them; but so furiously did the strangers charge, that, after exchanging several blows, resulting in not a few cracked skulls, those who could run took to their heels and fled. Edward, seeing this, charged down on his assailants, driving them before him to the bottom of the rock, which his friends at the same moment reached. The remainder of the enemy, finding themselves between two fires, made no attempt at defence, but as many as could escape ran off inland, the rest being cut to pieces or made prisoners.

Hearty were the greetings as shipmates, long separated, clasped the hands of shipmates – for the new-comers were the brave Lions. Raymond’s first inquiry was for Antony Waymouth.

“The captain is leading the other party,” was the answer. “Our orders are to push on to join him.”

“Oh, let us go!” cried Edward, forgetting his wounds, fatigue, and every thing, and eager only to join his friend.

On they went over the hot sands, not altogether unmolested; for the Portugals fired at them from a distance, and here and there one of the party was hit; but no one seemed to care for wounds – the Castle of San Pedro, with the reputed riches of its savage governor, was to be their prize. The two parties met under the walls. There was a short but hearty greeting between Antony Waymouth and Edward Raymond.

“We have no lack of gold and jewels already aboard the Lion,” exclaimed the former; “but an’ we become masters of what this castle holds we may turn our bows homeward, and no longer go roaming the world around for gold; that those who have lady-loves may wed and live like lords of the land to the end of their days. Yet I tell thee, Ned, I am more glad to see thee alive and hearty than if I had gained this fortress.”

There was no time for Edward to tell his story. Waymouth assured him that, had he suspected he was with the defenders of the rock, he should have come in person to his assistance. Waymouth’s party had landed with some scaling-ladders and a small ram used for battering open gates. The men were all eager to begin the attack. They had halted under shelter of some rocks near the forts. With a loud cheer the men sprang forward as the bugles sounded for the assault. Some placed the scaling-ladders against the walls, and began to climb up with a celerity and activity which only seamen can display; others bore on the battering-ram towards one of the gates, which they battered with vigorous blows; while a third party, armed with arquebuses and crossbows, shot bullets and bolts towards the walls, bringing down all who appeared upon them.

Although, from so great a number of the Portugals having been put to flight, the defenders were few, the walls were high and the gates strong, and, to get into the castle was no easy matter. As to the gate, the Portugals let the battering-ram do its worst without interfering, while they united all their efforts in opposing the escaladers, who, as they reached the summit of the ladders, again and again were hurled down, some with broken heads and gashed shoulders and arms, and others killed outright, though not a few were ready, as at first, to climb up and renew the attack.

Waymouth and his officers exerted themselves gallantly, but discovered that stone walls are hard things for men to knock their heads against, and many began to fear that the exploit must be abandoned, when Edward, who, in spite of his wound, had not been behindhand in exhibiting his courage, recollected the gate out of which Donna Isabel had conducted him the previous night, and the angle of the wall down which he had slipped. Telling Waymouth what he proposed doing, he summoned Dick Lizard and some of his companions in captivity, with a few other fresh men, and, briefly explaining his plans, led them round close under the walls on the sand where it was evidently generally washed by the sea. The angle was reached, and by the rope which Edward had left hanging over when making his escape he prepared to climb up, though each of his men was eager to lead. Young Marston, who was the only midshipman of the party, especially entreated that he might go.

“I’ll be at the top in a moment, sir,” he whispered. “I’ll let you know if there are any Portugals near, and if they tumble me over it will matter nothing.”

Edward, however, would allow no one to precede him. He grasped the rope, and began his ascent. How different were his feelings from what they had been when descending a few hours before! Marston followed directly after him. Up he climbed, expecting every moment a Portugal’s head to appear over the parapet, and to see the rope cut above him. On he went, though. The summit was reached, and throwing himself on it, he drew his sword and stood ready to defend the spot till his men should have likewise gained a footing. Marston was by his side in a moment. When they looked around, not a Portugal was to be seen to stop their progress. Forward they rushed accordingly, and got half way across the open before they were discovered by one of the garrison. The man who first saw them summoned others, and a pretty strong party was collected to oppose them, who, rushing down, met them before they reached the gate at which they were aiming. So furiously, however, did the seamen charge the enemy, that they were driven back, cut down, or put to flight before any one had time to shut the gate, which, as Edward had hoped might be the case, was left open. A few rushed in before them, and a desperate struggle ensued. In the end not a Portugal remained alive. The passages resounded with the tramp of armed men, the clash of steel, the reports of pistols, and the cries of the wounded, while clouds of smoke rolled along them.

“On! on!” was the cry.

Dick Lizard happily knew the way to the principal gate.

“I’ll tell you, Master Raymond, by and by how I came to know it,” he remarked. “It’s all of the lady who helped us out.”

On they went. It was every thing to reach the principal gate without further opposition. As Edward had hoped, all the defenders were on the ramparts. No one had remained inside the gate, which from its strength it was supposed would withstand any attempt to batter it down. Dick was not mistaken. The thundering of the battering-ram guided them also to the spot. Passing under a broad archway, they found themselves just within the great gate. The din of the battle outside had prevented their approach being heard, while every one was too busy to observe them. Bars and bolts innumerable guarded the gate. These Edward and his followers began to withdraw, but they were so huge and rusty that it was with difficulty they could be removed. While the seamen were still labouring away, Raymond, turning his head, saw at the farther end of the passage a number of men approaching. At their head he recognised Don Lobo himself. With cries of vengeance, the governor led on his men. The blood of the Lusitanian was up, and, cruel tyrant and extortioner as he had been, when he found himself pushed to extremities, and his enemies already within his stronghold, he resolved to drive them out or die as became him in its defence. As the governor approached, Edward and part of his company faced about to encounter him, while Dick Lizard and the rest plied crowbars and hammers in beating back the huge bolts which secured the gate. The battering-ram was all the time thundering away outside. The object of Don Lobo was to destroy the daring band of Englishmen who had got inside, and to replace the bolts before the ram had forced the gate. Nobly Edward and his little party kept their numerous foes, hard pressing on them, at bay. Don Lobo himself rushed forward at length in desperation, and his blade crossed that of Edward.

“Ha, ha! I hate you, and you know the reason, vile Englishman!” he exclaimed, as he made a lunge at his opponent’s breast.

Edward turned the weapon aside, and that instant Dick shouted —

“Stand from under, lads! stand from under!”

For the huge gate was cracking in every part, and with a loud crash down it came, crushing one poor fellow, the rest with difficulty escaping. Don Lobo heard the shout and the crash. His eye was for an instant withdrawn from his sword’s point to look at the falling gate. That instant was fatal to him, and Edward’s weapon entering his bosom, he fell backwards to the ground, while his own sword fell useless from his grasp. As the gate gave way, the fierce and eager countenances of the English seamen were seen in the entrance, led on by Waymouth.

“St. George and merry England!” they shouted. “Down with the Portugals! Hurrah! hurrah!”

“An’ you cry ‘Down with the Portugals!’ just be sure if there are Portugals to put down,” cried Dick. “The mouse has got into the cheese before you, mates; but there is no lack of mites yet to eat. On – on, lads!”

Dick narrowly escaped a clout on the head by his facetiousness. Fortunately, daylight came in through the open gateway, and through the smoke and dust his features were recognised in time. The whole party now rushed forward. Some of the Portugals in narrow, passages made a stand, but they were forced back and driven from chamber to chamber till every part of the castle was in the hands of the English.

“The miser’s gold! the miser’s gold!” was now the cry. “Where are his strong boxes? Bring him forth, and make him tell us.”

Several hurried off to search for the late governor. Edward might have told them of his fate, but he, mindful of poor Don Joao, had gone to look for his unfortunate acquaintance, and to save him, if possible, from insult or violence.

Here and there the sound of strife might still be heard as a few of the braver spirits who had retreated, not aware how entirely the castle was in the power of the English, were defending themselves in rooms and galleries from small parties of adventurers who had separated from the main body in search of plunder.

Edward had made inquiries both of Portugals and English if they knew aught of Don Joao. At length, led by the sound of clashing steel, he found his way, with the few men he had got to follow him, into the circular chamber of a distant tower. There in a deep window recess clustered three or four priests holding crucifixes in their hands, some dark-skinned women in their picturesque costume, and some native attendants. Before them stood Don Joao, with five or six Portugal soldiers, defending themselves with their swords against the attacks of four or five English sailors, who were hewing and hacking away, not with much science, but with such furious blows that they had already cut down two or more Portugals, and were now hard pressing the old soldier. He was bleeding from more than one wound, and was evidently little able to hold out against assailants so persevering. Edward hurried forward, ordering the Englishmen to desist; but they either would not or did not hear him, and before he could interpose his own weapon, a heavy cut from a rapier brought the old man to the ground.

“For shame, men!” exclaimed Edward, saving the old soldier from another blow. “We war not with grey hairs, with priests and women. Let not another blow be struck.”

The Portugals, finding resistance hopeless, threw down their arms. Edward knelt down by the old man’s side, and raised his head. It was very evident that his last hours were passing by.

“My daughter?” he asked in a faint voice. “Brave Englishman, can you tell me any thing of my daughter? She had my leave to aid in your escape. I would have accompanied her had I been able.”

Edward felt sick at heart at having to tell the poor father of his daughter’s fate. Yet what could he say?

“Alas! I cannot say but I fear the worst,” was his reply.

“I dreaded to hear this, but do not blame you, noble Englishman. The last link which bound me to earth is broken, and I am ready to quit this world, which man’s folly and wickedness has made so full of woe and suffering.”

These were almost the last words the old man spoke, though the priests came round and administered the rites of their faith ere his spirit quitted its frail tenement. Even the rough seamen, despisers and haters of all papistical ceremonies, looked on with respect and awe as the old soldier’s head sank on his breast, and his hand fell powerless by his side.

Waymouth had taken precautions to secure all the entrances to the castle while the garrison were committed to the dungeons in which they had been accustomed to confine the enemies who had the misfortune of falling into their hands. Those who had gone in search of Don Lobo soon returned, bearing on a litter his dead body, an officer holding up in triumph a bunch of keys which had been found in his pockets, and shouting —

“The keys of his money-chests! the keys of his money-chests!”

“The keys are but of small service to us without the chests,” remarked the captain. “Find the chests, men, and we may make small account of the keys.”

A diligent search was therefore commenced for the reputed wealth of the old governor. It was said that he had employed thirty years in collecting it, and that he had purposed shortly returning to Europe, under the vain belief that it would afford him enjoyment and contentment. Every passage, and corner, and crevice of the castle from top to bottom was searched, and not a sign of a money-box could be discovered. Some declared that the governor’s wealth was really fabulous – that is to say, it had no existence; while others affirmed that it did exist, and would somewhere be discovered. Midshipmen generally consider hunting for rabbits very good fun, but hunting for money-chests was very much better. All the cabin-boys of the Lion hunted round and round and up and down with wonderful zeal. The captain at last promised that whoever found the wealth should have a tenth portion of it. This still further excited the diligence of all hands. Still no chests were forthcoming. Some, in revenge, proposed burning down the castle, till the captain announced that whoever set it on fire should be cast into the flames. Again and again the search was renewed. The prisoners were interrogated, but no one could tell. Rewards were offered without effect. It was evident that they did not know. Several said that Pedro Pacheco knew; but that worthy had been run through the body by a pike, which had struck him in the back as he was making his escape with a bag of gold under his arm, which he refused to stop and deliver. The booty was, after all, not so contemptible, for there were silver plate in large quantities, and jewelled ornaments, and golden coin; but, as it was not what was expected, no one was contented.

At last Oliver Marston happened to strike his foot against a ring in the corner of a small room on the ground floor of the castle. It served as the handle of a stone which without difficulty he lifted. Lights were brought. A flight of stone steps led to a vault, in which was an iron door. Crowbars, eagerly brought, forced it open, and there exposed to view were a dozen large iron chests. The governor’s keys were applied, the lids opened, and exposed to view ingots of gold and silver, and jewels and coins scarcely to be counted. Wild were the shouts of delight as chest after chest was opened, and each one in succession appeared to contain more gold and jewels than the first. The chests were computed to contain property of even greater value than what was already on board the Lion. It was no easy work to carry off the chests, but it was accomplished before the eyelids of one of the victors closed in sleep. The prisoners were allowed their liberty, the castle was set on fire, and, while the flames were bursting out on all sides, the Lion made sail with her rich freight, and stood away to the southward.

Chapter Eight

Away sailed the Lion, those on board exulting in the rich booty they had obtained, and looking ere many months had passed by once more to tread the shores of Old England and to enjoy the wealth they had gotten with so much toil and danger. Good Master Walker, the minister, did his best to warn them not to trust to the riches they had acquired, that riches are apt to take to themselves wings and flee away, and that it in no way follows that because people possess wealth they will have the power of enjoying it. These and other similar remarks were received by the officers and men in general with no good grace, and Master Walker lost popularity simply because no one could deny the truth of his remarks.

“There is many a slip between the cup and the lip,” he added one day, most greatly to the annoyance of his hearers.

The more conscious people are that a thing may probably come to pass, the more angry they are, if it is against their wish that it should happen, when they are told so. Antony Waymouth was no despiser of gold – or rather the good things of life which gold procures – but he loved his honour more, and he considered it his duty to go in search of the commander-in-chief and the rest of the fleet, if haply they might have reached the rendezvous at Bantam. Waymouth had full experience of the responsibility of power, though he had able assistants in Raymond and his first officer, Carlingford. Several of the crew had for many months shown a mutinous disposition, though the storms to which they had been exposed, the fights in which they had been engaged, and the prospect of the attack on the Castle of San Pedro, had prevented any serious outbreak. Now, however, they loudly expressed their disapproval of continuing the search for Captain Wood, declaring that he and his consorts must long since have perished, and that they, having collected so large an amount of wealth, would be acting like fools to remain out a day longer than they could help. Round the mess-table by day and during the watches of the night the only subject of conversation was the way in which they would spend their wealth when they got on shore. Their disappointment and anger therefore increased greatly when they found that the time for their return might be indefinitely delayed. Those even who had hitherto been obedient began to express themselves in a mutinous manner, and to hint that the sooner another man was captain the better it would, be for all hands fore and aft. This state of things was not unknown to Waymouth and his officers, and it put them on their guard; but while no overt act was committed, it was impossible to take active steps to bring about a change. As at first, Peter Hagger, the boatswain, with his mate and Dick Soper, a seaman, were supposed to be the ringleaders. Though narrowly watched, nothing could be proved Against them. The captain’s two cabin-boys, Oliver Marston and Alfred Stanhope, proud of the approval they had before received, determined to discover, if possible, what was wrong. They had taken Dick Lizard into their councils, assured that he, at all events, might be depended on. In spite of all their wealth and their anticipations of the pleasures it might procure, none of either high or low degree on board could boast of much enjoyment. The happiest person was Master Walker. He was doing his duty, and leaving the consequences in the hand of Heaven. The Island of Java was once more sighted and the Harbour of Bantam entered. No certain news could there be obtained of Captain Wood. Several large ships of the Hollanders had, however, visited the place since their departure, and the people had done their best to spread evil reports of the English. Waymouth cared little for this, but he vowed, should he ever come across the Hollanders, he would make them pay for their slanders, and those who knew him best had no doubt that he would put his threat into execution. Still his chief desire was to go in search of his friends, but even this could not be done without delay, for, he having ordered a survey of the Lion, the carpenters reported that she must undergo a thorough repair before she would be fit to put to sea. No man knew better than the bold captain of the Lion how to get into the good graces of people in power, and he soon gained the confidence and good-will of the King of Bantam. At the same time he was too wise to put more confidence in his majesty than was necessary; he therefore carefully kept concealed from him the amount of wealth the Lion had on board, and rather let him suppose that he and his company were needy adventurers who had yet their fortunes to make at the point of their swords, at the same time that the little they possessed they were ready to expend liberally. This policy answered so well that the repairs of the Lion were allowed to proceed without interruption.

One enemy, however, could by no means be kept at a distance. It was the black fever. While still many necessary repairs were yet to be done, it made its baneful appearance. Strong men who had boldly confronted the fiercest foes and the raging storm turned pale when they heard that it had already carried off six of their shipmates. From that time not a day passed but two or more died. Every one of the company laboured hard to get the ship ready for sea, under the belief that they should leave the fell destroyer behind them. Now the qualities of Master Walker, the chaplain, shone forth brightly, for while others shrank back from attending on the plague-stricken, he boldly went among the sick and attended the dying, giving them spiritual counsel and consolation, tending them, and administering medicines prescribed by the surgeon. Full thirty of her brave crew had succumbed to the destroyer, before the Lion, having been got ready for sea, once more ploughed the waters of the ocean. Still the fever raged. Gladly would those on board have given all their wealth to have escaped with health from the plague-stricken ship. Day after day more and more were called away. A small number only of those who were attacked survived, but so sick and weak did they remain that their recovery was hardly expected.

Waymouth had received intimation that some ships, supposed to be English, had been seen farther to the eastward, and from the description given, believing them to be Captain Wood’s squadron, he steered a course in that direction. On sailed the Lion on her solitary course. The Angel of Death still pursued her, continuing to summon one after another of her crew. Hope of finding his consorts, however, allured the brave captain on in spite of the ravages of the plague and the warnings given him of the increasing discontent of the crew.