<h3> CHAPTER XXII </h3>
<p>A fortnight later, in a fair clearing on the summit of
those forest-clad hills which separate the Atlantic
Ocean from the South Sea knelt eighteen sunburnt,
way-worn Englishmen. In their midst rose a giant-tree
that reared its head high above all the dense growth
around it. In its rugged bark steps had been cut that
led upwards to a sort of bower high amidst the massive
branches, which might have served as a watch-house to
the little settlement that was about the glade.</p>
<p>For all around where those gaunt men knelt were
strong houses built in the manner of the Cimaroons,
some thirty of whom knelt reverently outward of the
Englishmen listening to the prayer which the thick-set,
curly-bearded man in the centre offered up so earnestly.</p>
<p>Earnestly, too, those seventeen others listened, as
they knelt in the heart of the Spanish Main, with as
stout an air of triumph on their youthful faces as
though it were all their own. And no wonder it was
so. For each man there had but just ascended to that
silvan watch-tower, and there had seen to the northward
the ocean whence he had come, and over against it,
beyond the rolling slope of gorgeous tropic forest, that
silent sea of mystery on which no Englishman had
sailed stretched at his feet, as though waiting peacefully
for him to come and take possession.</p>
<p class="capcenter">
<SPAN name="img-329"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG class="imgcenter" src="images/img-329.jpg" alt="SIR FRANCIS DRAKE" />
<br/>
SIR FRANCIS DRAKE</p>
<p>To our fancies, heated with the hundred tales we had
heard of the inexhaustible treasure which came from
that new-found sea whereof the wisest of the ancients
were ignorant, it seemed to glitter like a boundless,
unfathomable caldron of molten silver. From this, our
first sight of it, it seemed but a little step with our
elated spirits to enter and possess it; and so it was with
uplifted hearts and throbbing pulse that, resting on our
weapons, we kneeled and listened to Frank Drake's
prayer.</p>
<p>'O Almighty God,' he said, 'who has granted us of
Thy great goodness that we should set our eyes at last
on that great sea which for all the ages till now no man
knew, but only Thou, and which, though Thou hadst
kept it hidden as an inheritance for all mankind who
served Thee aright, the Bishop of Rome has impiously
taken upon himself to give to an idolatrous king and
people: Grant to me now out of the plenty of Thy power
and bounty life and leave to sail once, if only once, in
an English ship in that sea. So shall I, thy servant,
and such of those others here to whom Thou wilt
vouchsafe the same, enter thereon to the advancement to Thy
glory, and the confusion of the lewd priest and
potentate who has usurped and abused the vineyard which
Thou hadst prepared for Thy people.'</p>
<p>So he ceased, and a deep 'Amen' mingled with the
rustle of the breeze amongst the vines and canes. Then
up sprang Mr. John Oxenham, and held on high his
right hand.</p>
<p>'Hearkye, lads,' he cried, very excited, 'you have
heard the captain's prayer, and know his resolution.
Now bear witness that by yea and nay I protest, as I
am a gentleman, that, unless he beat me from his
company, I will follow him, by God's grace, into that
sea.'</p>
<p>So one after another we all protested to the like
intent, very earnest and eager for that time to come;
and yet, resolute as we all were, how few ever made
good our resolve, and notably Mr. Oxenham! Had he
but been content to follow Frank, instead of faithlessly
trying to be before him, who knows but he too might
have died a knight with a golden collar, and not, as he
did, like a felon with a necklet of Spanish hemp! But
let that pass, for who knows better than I how hard it
may be to keep a resolution which in the making
seemed so easy? Such falling away we must openly
condemn, for the sake of the state and reverence for the
laws; yet no wise man will inwardly hasten to loathe
sin, since he is well aware that until he has made trial
he cannot tell how small a shock of temptation will lay
his own honour in ruins.</p>
<p>And surely the sight of that golden sea, whereof
no man knew the bounds, was enough to turn any
man's head. None of us were in haste to leave
that glorious sight, feeling as though we could never
gaze our fill. To us, the first of Englishmen, was
unfolded the portentous secret which the Spaniards had
kept so well. That night, then, we lay there to dream
over the boundless visions to which our discovery gave
birth.</p>
<p>On the morrow, refreshed with our rest, and feeling
each one of us a new man in the presence of that new
ocean, we began our perilous descent towards Panama.
And perilous indeed it was, though none of us now
could think of danger or anything but the golden sea.</p>
<p>We were, as I have said, but eighteen Englishmen.
This little band was all we could muster for our
attempt. Eight and twenty of our company were lying
dead in graves already half hidden in brakes. Well-nigh
half the rest were sick; and when these were set
aside with a sufficiency of whole men to tend them, and
above all to protect our ships and prisoners, eighteen
were all we could spare.</p>
<p>I had been appointed one of the number, seeing that
I was still whole; yet it must be said I was hard put
to it to go. For my prisoner coaxed me so prettily
to stay and protect her, and pouted so sweetly with
her full red lips when I would not be moved, that I
more than once came near to yielding, and was not a
little glad that we marched as soon as we did.</p>
<p>Besides our eighteen we had with us thirty Cimaroons,
who lightened the labour of our march not only
by their ready bearing of our burdens, which they
would not suffer us to touch, but also by their cheerful
spirits. They seemed never to weary, and were ever
laughing and singing, even when the way was steepest
and the brakes most dense. They seemed, now that
they were away from the Spaniards and we came to
know them better, an altogether docile, childlike people,
whom one could but love, for all their hidden fierceness,
as one would a staunch and faithful hound.</p>
<p>Pedro, their chief, who best knew the danger of our
enterprise, had put it hard to the general that he should
tarry at a certain town of theirs till a greater force of
Cimaroons could be gathered. But this Frank would
not hearken to. 'No, Pedro,' said he; 'the time speeds
for "making" my voyage, and since I have enough I
would not delay an hour though I might have twenty
times as many.' A resolute answer which rejoiced and
gave heart to us all.</p>
<p>So on the morrow of our discovery of the South Sea
we began our descent as we were towards Panama. It
was our general's purpose to waylay a <i>recua</i> as close
as possible to Panama, where the Spaniards would least
look for us, in case they had any wind of our still being
on the coast. To this end we had made our toilsome
march, going a good way about that we might not be
descried, and so come down secretly upon the road
which led from Panama to Venta Cruz, where, as I
have said, the gold was embarked in frigates to be
carried down the Rio Chagres to Nombre de Dios. We
were the more moved to this course because of our
uncertainty whether the <i>recuas</i> went as yet all the way
by land to Nombre de Dios. As we were now it mattered
little; for by thus striking boldly across the
Main we could deal with them before they reached the
river, and thus save them the pain of disappointing us.</p>
<p>Very warily now we pursued our painful way through
the matted forest, in the order which Pedro besought
us to adopt. First went, about a mile ahead of us, four
Cimaroons, who best knew those trackless solitudes. For
not a sign of a way was there, and even had there been
one it would have been overgrown by the luxuriant
brakes as fast as it was made. We had nothing further
to direct us than the broken branches by which our
guides marked the way we were to follow. How they
could know their road amidst those wellnigh
impenetrable woods, where they could not even see the sky
above their heads, was more than I could tell.
Mr. Oxenham said it was a special instinct which God had
given them that they might the better be revenged
upon the Spaniards who had so foully ill-treated them.
How this may be I cannot say, but I know that Frank
and most of the company said openly it was nothing
short of a miracle, by which God showed His great love
and tenderness towards us. For it is certain that
without the aid of these poor folk we could never even have
attempted the Spaniards by land.</p>
<p>Our general was very earnest to show his gratitude for
this mercy by burdening himself with care for their souls.
For when he found that they seemed to have no religion,
save a sort of idolatrous and superstitious reverence for
the Cross, he would not rest till by continual urging
them at our halts he brought them to lay it aside and
learn in its stead the Lord's Prayer and certain plain
doctrines as he thought sufficient for their low
understanding.</p>
<p>Great as was the skill of our guides in leading, it
was little exceeding our vanguard's diligence in clearing
the way. For in the front of our main body marched
twelve Cimaroons, who with loving care made the way
as easy as might be for us and their two chiefs, who
were in company with us. Rearwards of all were
twelve negroes more, bearing our burdens and watching
against any danger that might threaten from the rear.</p>
<p>So we marched stealthily through that eternal wilderness
of brake, and vine, and flower, and massive overshadowing
trees hour after hour, in perfect silence, save
for the scolding of the frightened parrots overhead and
the strident screaming of the fearless guans. To me
that march gave a pleasure and present sense of strong
life that I had never known before; nor did my content
end there. For Harry felt the influence as strongly as
I, and so there was bred between us one more piece of
sympathy, which gave me yet further hope that I
might win his love again. It seemed to bring back
our boyhood, and almost in his old boyish way he came
that night and sat beside me.</p>
<p>'Is this not glorious work?' said he, as he stretched
his weary limbs upon the flowers.</p>
<p>'I could almost wish it would never end,' I answered.
'It lifts a man out of himself like nothing else I know.'</p>
<p>'That is it,' he mused. 'Indeed, I think there is
nothing which will keep a man so continually excited
as silently stalking through a boundless forest like this,
where a white man's foot has never trod before. As you
pick your way at each step, that no stick may crack or
stone roll; as cautiously you press through the boughs,
that none may break or fly back noisily; as you strain
your ear for the whispered order that is passed from
your comrade, and peer ever forwards towards where the
danger lies, then you know best the pure joy of living,
the joy of the tiger leaping on his prey, the joy of the
falcon stooping at his quarry.'</p>
<p>'Well said! well said!' I cried, catching his
enthusiasm. 'Even so I now at last can say, "I live and
know my life. Now live I with the life of my father
Adam, the son of God." Now know I that fable for a
true allegory, and feel I have dominion over the beast
of the field and the fowls of the air, which is called the
inheritance of Adam.'</p>
<p>'Truly what greater joy was his than we have now!'
said Harry. 'The wild pigs and deer and pheasants are
our meat, the bubbling brooks our wine-cups, the leafy
boughs our roof, the flowers our beds. His inheritance
is ours! 'Slight, it is a time to tempt a man to throw
aside the fetters of his clothes and the burden of his
arms, and rise up with nought but a spear as symbol of
dominion, and live to his life's end a lord of beasts.'</p>
<p>'It is you, Harry,' said I, 'whom I must thank that
I too can know 'this intense joy. It was your father's
bringing-up of me that taught me to love the out-of-doors.'</p>
<p>'Well, it is mock-modesty,' he answered, 'to say he
knew not how to make a man. Indeed, I think
Machiavelli did not much err when he praised the
education of Achilles, for whom Chiron chose a master
half-man, half-beast, that he might be acquainted with
both, seeing that without the qualities of one the other
will be of little duration. Such teachers we cannot
come by now, yet we can make shift with one who
forgets not that man is half a beast.'</p>
<p>Such talk we had many times afterwards; and I call
it a fortunate thing that our march drew to an end
before we had quite run wild. On the second day after
leaving the spot where we had viewed the South Sea
we came out of the forests to a pleasant champaign
country, overgrown with mighty grass, so rank that, as
Pedro told us, the Spaniards had to burn it thrice a
year, lest it grow so tall that the oxen cannot reach to
feed on it; which will seem a wonder to those who
know not the Western Wonderland, but it is none the
less plain truth.</p>
<p>Three days we passed through this marvel, suffering
grievously from the heat after the cool shadows of the
forest, yet being cheered many times by getting glimpses
of Panama whenever we passed over the rolling hills
that fell in our path. On the fourth day, being the
14th of February, we had for our valentine the blue
roadstead of Panama, with its burden of gold ships
riding upon it.</p>
<p>It was a sight to set every heart there beating faster,
notwithstanding the many dangers and excitements
through which we had passed since we heard the farewell
guns from Plymouth platform. Indeed, it was now
that our great peril began; for by hook or crook we had
to reach undescried a great grove which lay apart in the
midst of the champaign lands, about a league from the
town.</p>
<p>Our danger of discovery, which would mar all, was
now very great; for the Cimaroons told us it was the
custom of the ladies in Panama to send out fowlers in
search of a certain delicate bird of which they were very
fond. Should we fall in with but one of these men,
which would be very easy in the tall grass, the alarm
would be at once given, and our chance of gold
gone—ay, and perhaps our lives with it.</p>
<p>Frank therefore bade us break up our order, and,
falling into small parties, grope our way as silently
and stealthily as possible towards our goal. It was
weary work, and anxious. The sun was blazing down
upon us with intolerable power. Every few minutes we
had to stop and listen.</p>
<p>After going thus for a good space with infinite toil
we struck a river bed, which was almost dry. This, to
our great relief, the Cimaroons said we could follow
safely, since it led straight to the grove. So in the end,
by picking our way over the stones like cats, we came
undescried to our hiding-place about three in the afternoon,
and then disposed ourselves to rest, wellnigh exhausted.</p>
<p>There was now nothing to do but lie there still as
mice till the night fell; for the <i>recuas</i> do not travel by
day between Panama and Venta-Cruz, because the way
lies wholly across the champaign country, where there
is no shelter from the scorching fire of the sun.
Moreover it was our captain's purpose, as soon as evening
drew near, to send a negro in disguise into Panama to
discover whether any <i>recuas</i> were to be laden that night,
and at what hour they were to start.</p>
<p>As I lay with the rest, half-asleep after my weary
march, Frank came to me and asked if I were too tired
for half an hour's more work.</p>
<p>'Not if you want it of me,' said I.</p>
<p>'Well then,' says he, 'come with me to the edge of
the grove, whence Pedro says we can descry Panama.'</p>
<p>'But to what end?' I asked. 'We shall run great
risk of discovery.'</p>
<p>'Not if we are careful,' says he; 'and it is worth the
risk.'</p>
<p>'Why, what good will our intelligence be?' I asked,
not wishing him to expose himself.</p>
<p>'Not much now,' he answered, 'but, by God's help,
some day I will serve Panama as I served Nombre de
Dios. If God grants my prayer for life and leave, and
we sail that sea, yonder harbour is where we must
strike, if we get not our fill elsewhere; and now I have
opportunity of learning how the town lies, I will not
throw it away. It is thus I have sped so far, and thus
I mean to continue. For I hold it not enough for a
man to pray earnestly; he must show by fearless,
ungrudging endeavour that he is in earnest, and leave
nothing undone which may speed the granting of his
prayer. God could do all this and more without my
help, that I know well; but yet I think He loves best
to help men who are ready to show they are in earnest
in seeking His help.'</p>
<p>So together we went and lay down where we could
see the fair city, lying some little way from the harbour
on either side of a goodly broad street that led northwards
from the sea right through the houses. All was
very still, because of the great heat that still prevailed.
Yet we could see the convent nestling in its garden of
palms, the tall spire of the church, the high bare walls
of the King's Treasure-House, as big and strong as that
at Nombre de Dios. And beyond all slumbered the
gold ships in the roadstead.</p>
<p>'A fair place! a goodly place!' said Frank in a
whisper. 'Too fair and goodly for those that possess it.
It should be ours, Jasper, and our Queen's; and so it
shall be, at least for as long as its plundering will take,
if I can come into that roadstead with but two stout
well-manned ships. We shall see, we shall see. Let
us come away. It is in the Lord's hands to deal with
as He wills.'</p>
<p>On our return to the strength we found the Cimaroons
busy dressing our espial in the costume which the
servants in Panama were accustomed to wear. He was
a merry, shrewd fellow, who had served a master in the
city formerly, and he bade us not to doubt that he would
soon be back with all the intelligence we wanted.</p>
<p>After his going was another space of anxious waiting,
during which we refreshed ourselves with such victuals
as we had with us. To every man was given a little
<i>aqua vitæ</i> for his comfort. I was surprised to see
Sergeant Culverin drinking, as I thought a little too
freely, from a private store he had. I went to him, and
he respectfully offered me some.</p>
<p>'No, Sergeant,' said I; 'if there is danger before us I
would rather keep my head cool.'</p>
<p>'As you will, sir,' he said. 'It may be well enough
for a young man, but with an old soldier it is different.'</p>
<p>'Then has not an old soldier as much need of a cool
head as a young one?' I asked.</p>
<p>'Yes, perhaps,' he answered; 'but a cool head is little
use if your heart is cool too.'</p>
<p>'Why, Sergeant,' said I, very surprised, 'your heart
at least will not be faint when a fight is ahead.'</p>
<p>'No, sir,' said he gravely, 'no man shall say that; and
yet I like to go about with it that it shall not faint,
and therefore I discipline it with a sufficiency of <i>aqua
vitæ</i>.'</p>
<p>'Well, Sergeant,' said I, still very puzzled at the
signs of timidity on the part of the grim old soldier,
'you are the last I should have suspected of needing so
base a crutch for his courage.'</p>
<p>'Maybe my courage halts,' he answered sadly, 'maybe
it does not. Once I never gave a thought to danger,
but when a man has served much he knows. I do not
think I have less courage than any man here, but I
know what war is better than they. As you shall see
more of war, sir, you shall see less of its glory and more
of its horror. That is why I wished to come to England;
and to be plain with you, I should never have run my
head into this wild venture of Captain Drake's had it
not been that my poor master—— but I crave your
honour's pardon, I prattle impertinently.'</p>
<p>'No matter, Sergeant,' said I; 'it is I who should
crave your pardon. But tell me, do you think our
danger so very great?'</p>
<p>'Not perhaps if we succeed,' answered the Sergeant;
'but if we fail, where shall we retreat?'</p>
<p>'But we must not think of that,' said I.</p>
<p>'A young soldier need not,' said he sadly; 'but alas! an
old soldier cannot choose but think of it, unless——'</p>
<p>'Unless what, Sergeant?' I asked.</p>
<p>'Unless, sir,' said he, grimly smiling, 'in the stead of
the ardent spirit of youth, which in you burns up such
doubt, a man may come by a sufficiency of this most
courageous <i>agua ardiente</i>.'</p>
<p>With that I left him, revolving much in my mind
whether he or I were the braver man.</p>
<p>It was not long before our espial came back. We
gathered eagerly round him for his news, which as
eagerly he gave, seeing he was so full of it that he was
like to burst had he not got this relief as soon as he did.
And no wonder, for he told us he had found the Plaza
full of mules, which men were fitting with packs. On
questioning these he found that two great <i>recuas</i>, with
a little silver and much victuals, were about to start for
the fleet that night; but what was better, and what
caused his eagerness, was that, besides these, there was
preparing to precede them a <i>recua</i> for no less a man
than the Treasurer of Lima himself,' who, being bent on
returning to Spain by the first <i>adviso</i> that sailed, was
starting that very night for Nombre de Dios with all
his servants and his daughter, together with one mule
load of jewels and eight of gold!</p>
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