<h3> CHAPTER XXIV </h3>
<p>Of the terrible march we had ere we regained our
ships I will not speak. Our spirits were at the lowest
ebb by reason of our failure, for what we had seen in
the governor's cellars at Nombre de Dios had so turned
our heads that we counted the plunder we had got as
nothing. Moreover our general was in a desperate
hurry to reach the ships before evil befell them, and we
therefore marched so rapidly that we had no time or
strength to get proper victuals, and were always half
fasting. Our boots were worn to tatters, our feet cut
and blistered, our wounds galled us, the mosquitoes
tormented us, and beneath all, as I say, rankled our failure.</p>
<p>Under such a load of trouble I think we should
have sunk had it not been for Frank, who never ceased
to cheer us with new plans for the making of our
voyage. What bred most wonder in me was the order
he took to lighten our pains. For if one complained of
his worn boots or his wound, Frank would always complain
louder, and cry plague on the stones, the boots,
the gnats, and everything. I knew his wound was
slight and his feet whole, so asked him the reason of
his words.</p>
<p>'Why,' says he, 'see you not that the poor lads,
however bad they be, will take some grain of courage if
they think there is one who is worse and yet can go
on? and moreover, where captain and men share alike
you are most sure to find yourself marching in company
content.'</p>
<p>Yet for all this many fainted by the way, and then
the Cimaroons would cease their valiant bragging, which
otherwise was unceasing since our capture of Vera
Cruz, and bear such as could not walk between two of
them very loving and cheerful for two miles or more at
a spell.</p>
<p>The poor Sergeant, the cause of all our woe, plodded
on in silence at Harry's heels. He looked like a man
who would never joy again, and by no means could I
win him to speech.</p>
<p>Seven days we toiled thus to the mouth of a river
called by the Cimaroons Rio Tortugas, and hither to our
great joy came the master, Ellis Hixom, to whom our
captain had sent, and took us off to Fort Diego in the
pinnace.</p>
<p>There was great joy at our meeting in spite of our
little plunder, since they had begun to fear we were
destroyed. They said they hardly knew us for the
same men, except the captain, so haggard and thin and
burnt we were, to say no more of the tatters to which
the brakes and stones had turned our clothes. Hunger
and toil and grief had doubtless made great havoc with
us, and the fire of that terrible sun had burnt us
well-nigh black.</p>
<p>My Señorita, to whom I went for comfort soon after
I got to the ships, seemed quite shocked to see me.</p>
<p>'Madre de Dios, Señor!' she cried, clasping her little
hands in terror. 'How you are changed! Ah! and
you are wounded. It is well you have come back to
me to be made yourself again. Indeed I am glad you
are come back.'</p>
<p>She held out her hands in such frank welcome that
I felt half healed already, and sat down as she bade me
on her own cushions.</p>
<p>'Indeed I am glad you are come back to us,' she said
again.</p>
<p>'Then did not Master Hixom treat you well?' I
asked.</p>
<p>'Ah, I hate him,' she said, knitting her dainty brows.
'He is a stock, a stone, a log! He kept us well,
but I hate him.'</p>
<p>I never knew why she was so hot against him,
but I could only smile to think she must have tried
her coaxing on him as she had on me, but with less
success. He was a flinty Puritan from Plymouth with
a wife and children, who would not have unbent, I
think, had Princess Helen herself put up her lips to
him. She begged me to come and be her gaoler again,
and I left her with such hope as it was not hard to
give.</p>
<p>That evening as I sat with others in the general's
bower, talking over what next was to be attempted, we
were surprised by Sergeant Culverin saluting in the
doorway.</p>
<p>'I come, Captain Drake, by your leave,' says he,
holding himself very stiff, 'to report myself for
punishment.'</p>
<p>'I shall give you none,' says Frank, but looked very
stern at him, for he was ever slow to forget a fault.
'You have suffered enough already with your wound,
and what of your fault is unpunished is wiped out by
your valiant bearing before Venta Cruz.'</p>
<p>For indeed he had done wonders there, and had
gotten a sore pike-thrust in the arm, from which he had
suffered great pain unmurmuring on our pitiful march.</p>
<p>'By your leave, Captain Drake,' said he, when Frank
finished, 'I crave you allot some punishment to me. It
was a most grievous breach of the discipline of the
wars, and I shall joy no more till it be atoned.
Moreover it will be an evil example to the youth of your
company, and like to breed much discontent and
danger to our voyage if I go unpunished. Therefore,
for the love of soldiership, I pray you omit not this just
dealing with me. The Signor John Peter Pugliano
always held——'</p>
<p>'Peace, enough!' said Frank. 'It shall be as you
say, so you will spare us your Italian's wisdom. I
reverence your soldiership, and adjudge you the
honourable estate of an hour on the hobby-horse.'</p>
<p>A rail was soon set up by some of the mariners, who
were nothing loath to be revenged on the old soldier.
On this he was speedily set with his hands bound behind
him, and a harquebuss hanging to each foot. There
he sat stiff and upright, as though he were in the
emperor's tilting ground again. He gave no heed to
the jeers of younger sailors, but sat grimly on
uncomplaining.</p>
<p>As I passed him presently I could see the pain was
as much as he could bear, weak as he was from hunger
and his wound. Just then one threw a tuft of grass at
him. Then he looked round fiercely, but he only bit
his lip to keep in the angry burst that was on his
tongue, and stared grimly in front of him again.</p>
<p>Then two or three began to whisper it was a sin
that such a tall fellow who took his punishment so well
should be tormented for what was after all but too
deep a pull at his flask. So they went amongst the
others, and the jeering ceased. Then they fell to
encouraging him and watching the sand-glass, till at last,
seeing how stiff and grim he still sat, they went in a
body to Frank and would not be content till they had
leave to take him down, which at last they did, in spite
of his angry protesting that he would sit his
punishment out.</p>
<p>So their past toils and grief were fast forgotten, and
all talk was of what was to be attempted next. Some
were for attacking the treasure frigates which were sure
to be moving on the coast now the Plate Fleets were in,
but others counted this but folly, seeing how strong
and well manned with soldiers were the wafters that
convoyed them. Others, amongst whom was Mr. Oxenham,
were for gathering fresh victuals from the provision
ships, which were always unprotected, that we might
thereby recover our sick and get sufficient strength for
another attempt by land, which now was not to be
thought of, seeing that all the Main was alarmed and
half our company sick.</p>
<p>Pedro was very earnest for us to attempt Veragua,
a rich town between Nombre de Dios and Nicaragua,
where his former master, Señor Pezoro, had the richest
gold mine in all the north side, whence he won daily
above £200 worth of gold. All this he stored in a great
treasure house, to which Pedro promised he could lead
us undescried through the woods and make us masters
of the untold treasure therein. Every Cimaroon on the
Main would further our attempt, he said, because this
Pezoro was known to be worse than a devil to his
slaves, and hated more than any man in all the Indies.</p>
<p>But our general was loath to undertake so long a
march, though sorely tempted by the greatness of the
prize. Our company was too much broken by wounds
and sickness to venture so far, so it was concluded to
send forth two pinnaces, which were all we could man, to
try what could be done. Mr. Oxenham took the <i>Bear</i>
eastwards towards Tolu to gather victuals, as he had
wished, while the general took the <i>Minion</i> to ply towards
the west, and have dealings, if it were possible, in the
treasure trade, which we knew to be great at this time
from Veragua and Nicaragua to the Fleet.</p>
<p>As for me, I was far too sick with my wound to join
either; but not being quite so spent as some, was able
to take my old charge of the prisoners. Being little
able to walk, I was almost entirely in the ship with the
Spaniards. Indeed I had little duty or pleasure
elsewhere. Hixom, our master, was again set over those
that remained, and, since Harry, Frank, and Mr. Oxenham
were away in the pinnaces, there was no one
amongst the mariners with whom I cared to converse
so much as the courtly old Scrivano and his friends.</p>
<p>And why should I not confess the rest since I have
unfolded so much? Whether I did wrong I cannot
tell. I had abandoned the guide whom all my life I
had followed, because, as I thought, he had only led me
astray. It was hard to trust to anything again. Often
I would play with Harry's rapier and think. I know
not if the quick, hard life I had been leading was to
blame, but it would not say me Ay or No!</p>
<p>After all my recent toil and labour it was so pleasant,
to have her at my side, to look at and talk to. Pleasant,
too, it was to see how she was bent on winning me,
whether for her father's sake to earn him favour at my
hands, or for very wanton love of winning a new
kind of conquest, I cannot tell; pleasant, too, to mark
how lovingly she sought to ease my pain and beguile
the lagging hours, how tenderly she dressed my wound
and smoothed my pillow when she bade me sleep.
What wonder, then, if I gave myself up to the sweet
beguilement! What wonder if, when she had set me to
rest and no one was by, I drew the pretty face to mine
and our lips met! I know not, I say, how I shall be
blamed. She was so sweet and gentle and kind; I
was so weak and weary. It was all I had to give; it
was the payment most grateful to her. Well! well!
It is long past now for good or ill. If any has been so
diseased as I in body and spirit and so sweetly tended,
lying as I did all day in the murmur and savour of a
tropic spring in the midst of those jewelled seas, let
him judge me.</p>
<p>There were some among my prisoners who looked
on with little ease and twirled their fierce moustaches,
but the worldly old Scrivano would not have it otherwise.</p>
<p>'Let them be,' he would say; 'it will not last for
ever. A friend at court is worth winning.'</p>
<p>It was when she told me this that I first knew a
sweet fear that all she did might not be done in wantonness
or even for the prisoners' sakes. Till then I had
thought it was only in their behoof she was kind, and
I trod my flowery path with a light heart. Now I
began to doubt we were come to where thorns were
hidden beneath the blossoms by the way, but it was
still too fair and pleasant for me to stop. In my
weakness I said there was still time enough.</p>
<p>So we continued till near the middle of March,
when Mr. Oxenham returned in great heart with a
smart frigate laden with a good store of maize and live
hogs and hens, which greatly rejoiced us, since we were
pining for fresh food. I was nevertheless not so glad
to see him back as I had hoped, since now the general
was away there was none to prevent him coming on
board my ship every day, where he talked so gaily with
my Señorita, to her manifest content, that I wished in
my heart his voyage had been less fortunate.</p>
<p>I was overjoyed when Frank came back, not only
because it put an end to Mr. Oxenham's visits, but also
for the news he brought. Off the Cabeças he had
met with a frigate of Nicaragua, which he had lightened
of a pretty store of gold and her Genoese pilot. This
man, who but a week before was at Veragua, had
assured our general that the whole coast was palsied
with fear of him. So fast had he moved and so suddenly
struck that it seemed, so the man said, nothing less
than magical, and none knew where their dreaded enemy
would next appear. The plain truth was that, eschewing
armour after the manner of English mariners, we
marched more quickly than the Spaniards ever thought
possible, and this greatly increased their fears.</p>
<p>So from Nicaragua to Carthagena they lay shivering
in their beds, never knowing if they should sleep the
night in peace. Our pilot was only too glad to join
his fortunes to ours on promise that his right should
be done him, and had led our captain into Veragua
harbour, where lay a frigate laden with above a million
in gold, not daring to venture forth. But by a new
order of watch which they had taken, the pinnace was
descried and the attempt abandoned, since there lay a
still better chance in the Chagres river.</p>
<p>The galleys that were to waft the gold fleet, the
Genoese said, were laid up at Nombre de Dios to be
fitted. Thus there was nothing to protect the gold
frigates but land soldiers, with whom Frank doubted
not he could deal, if he gathered all his whole men
together, and to this end he was now returned to join
Mr. Oxenham.</p>
<p>The frigate which the <i>Lion</i> had captured, being a
very smart one, fell in well with Frank's purpose. She
was speedily careened, new tallowed, and launched
again, as stout a man-of-war as any on the coast. All
the best of our ordnance was set aboard of her, and
as soon as Easter was past and the men refreshed Frank
set sail with her and the <i>Bear</i> for the Rio Chagres.</p>
<p>Being willing to break from the dalliance in which
I lived, I had craved to be taken with them, for
I was fast mending since fresh meat had grown
abundant. But Frank would not hear of it, and once
more I was left alone with my prisoners, of which in
my heart I fear I was glad.</p>
<p>Sweet indeed were the days that followed. Every
hour my strength seemed to grow, and since there was
nothing to do after I had made my rounds amongst the
sick, I wandered with my Señorita along the shore or
in the woods wellnigh the livelong day, and was
never weary. Yet what we spoke of I cannot tell.
I can hardly recall a phrase she uttered, yet she
chattered like the golden brook, where we loved best to sit,
and I listened more willing and untiring than ever I
did to the wisest voices of the ancients.</p>
<p>Of herself and of me it seems to me now was all
her talk, the empty prattle of a child; yet I sat and
watched her ripe face and wanted no more. Ours was
the life of the lazy pelicans and the scarlet cranes, and
all the other shore fowl that breathed around us that
tingling tropic life, and crowned with their presence
the enchanting beauty of the scene.</p>
<p>Once, and only once, I remember she wandered to
deeper things. She spoke of the faith of her people,
and how she longed sometimes to be a nun, and have
done with love and be good again.</p>
<p>'Are you a heretic?' she then said, suddenly looking
at me very wistfully.</p>
<p>'I trust not,' I said, smiling, for it seemed a strangely
merry thing to me to see her serious.</p>
<p>'Why do you laugh?' she said, pouting a little.
'My Padre says all Englishmen are Lutheran heretics
and will go to torment. How can you laugh at that?
It makes me very sad to think of you there, and to
think I shall not find you in heaven when I come.
Why will you be a heretic and pray to the devil?'</p>
<p>'Ah, gentle Señorita,' I answered, 'never think of
those things. Your pretty head must not wear such
ugly thoughts. Forget it now; go and crown yourself
with flowers as you did yesterday, and I will worship a
true goddess and no devil, though something of a witch.
So you shall see I am a true believer in your
loveliness and no heretic. What would you more?'</p>
<p>'Witch or not,' she answered, rising with a smile,
'I have tamed your tongue, my faithful worshipper,
and brought it to a most gentle pacing; I may not
choose but be carried now whithersoever it will amble
with me.'</p>
<p>''Twas but a sorry jade,' I said, as she rose and
gathered some bright flowers that seemed to bend down
to kiss her hand. 'Yet since you took the rein I
think it can never stumble, nor ever falter or grow
dull so long as it feels the gentle spurring of your
eye.'</p>
<p>'Save us now, worshipper, from your sharp and
stinging comparisons,' she said, as she turned on me
radiantly, her pliant figure entwined with a tender vine
of rose-coloured flowers, and her glossy hair crowned
with glowing blossoms, 'and send your goddess a daintier
offering!'</p>
<p>'Nay, goddess,' said I, 'it was a bright and glittering
offering enough till your radiance put it out of
countenance.'</p>
<p>'Then must you offer me something brighter still,'
she said, as she sat herself upon a great rock half
hidden in flowers. 'See, your goddess is enthroned.
To your knees, errant worshipper; I will endure no
heretical postures.'</p>
<p>So I knelt before her and offered her such dainty
sweetmeat phrases as every pretty woman loves, so they
be compounded to her taste and served so that she
may taste without offence.</p>
<p>In such wise my pretty plaything and I played
together till the sun began to sink and I returned to
my duties, wondering idly, as the wise Sieur de
Montaigne tells us in his <i>Apology for Raymond Sebond</i> he
did of his cat, whether she played with me or I with
her; and wondering, too, still more to think how the
magic of the west, or warfare, or whatsoever else it
might be, had changed me. It was barely a year ago
since I was alone with another woman, the first I ever
knew. How different it was then, and yet perhaps
how like, if we but knew the springs of our hearts!
But enough of that! Let me not speak of those two
with one breath.</p>
<p>I seemed another man as I looked backward. Yet
was there no miracle. For surely it is no more than
natural that, when a man has burst the bonds in which
he blindly bound down and tormented his soul, it
should grow quickly to its proper shape if it finds
itself planted in soil that is apt to its true nature.</p>
<p>All too soon, as we thought, and yet perhaps not
soon enough, Frank came back with the frigate and the
pinnace in company with a goodly bark.</p>
<p>'A fat prize at last,' I cried, as he rowed up to the
ship, 'and I not there to see. Is our voyage made?'</p>
<p>'Not yet,' said Frank, 'and yet I hope not far from
it. Yonder is no prize, but a Frenchman with seventy
good Huguenots aboard, whom we have admitted to
our company. Let me present to you her captain, most
worthy Monsieur Tetú.'</p>
<p>He bowed with great ceremony and much spreading
abroad of his hands, and I asked if he had any news from
Europe, at which to my surprise he seemed very pained.</p>
<p>'Yes,' broke in Frank, 'he has news. Would God
he had not!'</p>
<p>'Is the Queen married then?' I asked quickly, for it
was always the first inquiry of strangers in those
shifting times.</p>
<p>'No!' answered Frank, 'nor like to be, it seems. Be
pleased, Monsieur, to tell Mr. Festing what tidings you
bring.'</p>
<p>And with that the little French captain, with excited
gesture and kindling eyes, poured into my scorched ears
the black and awful tale of the Massacre of Paris on
St. Bartholomew's day, on the occasion of the King of
Navarre's marriage with the Princess Margaret. We
could none of us speak for a while when he ended the
relation of that most foul and detestable crime. I could
only feel leap up in my heart a mad longing, like Frank's,
to be revenged, and that speedily. It seemed to revive
in me all my old detestation of the Papists, and the whole
body of them, innocent and guilty alike, seemed again a
cursed thing in my eyes.</p>
<p>Many a better man than I was seized with the same
mad rage when he knew that tale. How could we be
otherwise? Yet I contained myself enough to express
my pity to the French captain, who seemed well-nigh
broken-hearted at the blot upon his country's
fame.</p>
<p>'Truly, Mr. Festing, it is hard to bear,' he said, with
a bitterness that cut me to the heart. 'I never thought
to see the day when I could say that those Frenchmen
were happiest who were farthest from France. That is
why I have sailed hither and turned my back on her.
I wash my hands of her. She is France no longer, but
rather Frenzy, and all Gaul is gall indeed.'</p>
<p>His attempt at pleasantry touched me very deeply,
for I knew how bitterly he felt the loss of his country,
and I tried some apology.</p>
<p>'You are kind, Mr. Festing,' he said, taking my hand
very warmly, after the manner of his country. 'It is
not France—my pure, simple, single-hearted France—that
has done this. It is Italian practices that have
over-mastered French simplicity. Truly, sir, Italy is an
accursed land, that curses all it touches with its noisome
humours.'</p>
<p>He seemed a brave heart, and was a seaman in all
his inches. For my part I conceived a great liking for
him, though I think Frank would have been glad enough
to be well rid of him and his company.</p>
<p>'Yet I could not say him nay,' he said to me, 'when I
saw his poor fellows more than half starved. Moreover
he was so mighty civil, and said that five weeks ago he
had heard of us and of our great dealings, as he pleased
to put it, and ever since he had been seeking, desiring
nothing so much as to meet with the gentlemen who
had set the whole Spanish Main in a tremble. I was
bound to relieve him with our spare victuals, and so
was obliged to abandon our attempt on the Chagres
river.'</p>
<p>'And then you agreed to venture in company?'
said I.</p>
<p>'Yes,' said he. 'Yet I will not say it was without
some jealousy and mistrust, for all his civility. Yet,
seeing how earnest he was to be our friend, and how
strong to hurt us if he were our enemy, we concluded
to take him and twenty of his company and venture
equally.'</p>
<p>'And is it man for man and ton for ton again?' I
asked.</p>
<p>'No, lad, no,' answered Frank. 'That would never
do. As I told our Monsieur, though his company was
seventy and mine now but thirty-one, mine must weigh
more than his, since in our purposed play the principal
actors were not numbers of men, but rather their
judgment and knowledge; to which arguments he agreed
with the best grace he could. The more so as I showed
him his great tonnage was no good in our present
case.'</p>
<p>'Then are we not to attempt the Chagres fleet?'
said I.</p>
<p>'No,' he answered; 'that is where they are looking
for us. We must attempt the place where they last
expect us.'</p>
<p>'And where is that?' said I.</p>
<p>'Where but knocking at the back door of Nombre
de Dios,' he answered, laughing to see my surprise at
this his wildest plan of all.</p>
<p>'Now save you, Frank,' said I, 'from a very
mid-summer madness! You will never get in there again,
or at least get out again if you do.'</p>
<p>'Oh,' says he, ''tis not so mad as that. We have no
cause to go in. We will get the gold outside. The
great <i>recuas</i> are passing by road now the whole way.
What is easier with our present help than to deal with
one of them when it is all but home, and thinks all
danger is over? Pedro will lead us thither, into the Rio
Francisco and then a little march. I have already
sent for the Cimaroons. Many times, Jasper, we have
struck amiss. God has shown the Spaniards great
mercy; yet now, I think, since He has sent us this
French company, with tidings of this last most bloody
dealing of the Italian priest against His faithful people
of Paris, it is surely His will that we shall entreat these
idolaters according to their iniquity; and so by His
grace we will, and our voyage be made.'</p>
<p><br/><br/><br/></p>
<p><SPAN name="chap25"></SPAN></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />