SCHEMES AND STRATAGEMS.
I was not minded to let Captain Nunez and the crew--every man of which
was either Spaniard or Portugee--see that I had any knowledge of the man
whom they had rescued, and therefore I presently went below and kept out
of the way for a while. Somehow I felt a considerable sense of
gratification at the thought of the Cornishman's presence on board. He
seemed to me a man of resource and of courage, and I no sooner set eyes
on him in this remarkable fashion, than I began to think how he might
aid me in making my escape from my present position.
After a time Nunez came down into the cabin where I sat, and began to
talk with me.
"We have fallen in with a countryman of yours, Master Salkeld," said
he, regarding me closely, as if he wished to see how I took the news.
"Indeed!" said I. "The man just come aboard?"
"The same. A native of Cornwall, with an outlandish name, and an
appetite as large as his body, judging by the way he eats."
"He is no doubt hungry, Senor," I said. "Perhaps he has been tossing
about for a while."
"A day and a night. One additional mouth, Master Salkeld, is what I did
not bargain for."
"But you would not have allowed the man to drift away to starvation and
death?" I said.
"His life was no concern of mine, Master Salkeld. But I can make him
useful; therefore he was worth saving. I shall enroll him as one of my
crew, and carry him to the Indies."
"And then?"
"Then he will go ashore with you, unless he prefers to go back with me
to Cadiz--which he probably will not do."
He left me then, and I sat wondering what he meant by saying that the
English sailor would probably not care to go back to Spain with him.
There seemed something sinister in his meaning. But I gave over thinking
about it, for I was by that time firmly convinced that Captain Manuel
Nunez was a thorough-paced scoundrel, and well fitted to undertake all
manner of villainy, despite his polished manners and fine words. Also, I
was certain that there was in store for me some unpleasant and possibly
terrible fate, which I was powerless to avoid and which was certain to
come. Therefore I had resigned myself to my conditions, and only hoped
to show myself a true Englishman when my time of trouble came.
Nevertheless, many a sad hour and day did I spend, looking across the
great wild waste of gray water and wondering what they were doing at
Beechcot. In my sad thoughts and in my dreams I could see the little
hamlet nestling against the purple Wold; the brown leaves piled high
about the shivering hedgerows; the autumn sunlight shining over the
close-cropped fields; and in the manor-house the good knight, my uncle,
seated by his wood-fire, wondering what had become of me. Also I could
see the old vicarage and the vicar, good Master Timotheus, thumbing his
well-loved folios, and occasionally pushing his spectacles from his nose
to look round and inquire whether there was yet news of the boy
Humphrey. But more than these, I saw my sweetheart's face, sad and weary
with fear, and her eyes seemed as if they looked for something and were
unsatisfied. And then would come worse thoughts--thoughts of Jasper and
his villainy, and of what it might have prompted him to in the way of
lies. He would carry home a straight and an ingenious tale--I was very
sure of that. He would tell them I was drowned or kidnaped, and nobody
would doubt his story. That was the worst thought of all--that my dear
ones should be thinking of me as one dead while I was simply a prisoner,
being carried I knew not where, nor to what fate.
On the evening of the second day after the Cornish sailor came aboard,
the weather having moderated and the ship making good progress, I was
leaning over the port bulwarks moodily gazing at the sea, when I felt a
touch on my hand. Looking round, I saw the Englishman engaged in coiling
a rope close to me. He continued his task and spoke in a low voice.
"I recognized you, master," said he. "I looked through the skylight last
night as you talked with the captain, and I knew you again. I know not
how you came here, nor why, but it is strange company for a young
English gentleman."
"I was trapped on board," I said.
"I thought so," he responded. "But speak low, master, and take no heed
of me. We can converse while I work, but it will not do for us to be
seen talking too much. The less we are noticed together the better for
our necks. How came you here, master? I had no thought of seeing you in
such company."
I told him as briefly as possible while he continued to coil the rope.
"Aye," said he, when I had finished my story, "I expected something of
that sort. Well, I am glad that the old Hawthorn left me swimming,
though sorry enough that all her merry men are gone down below. But
what! death must come. Now, young master, what can we do? I swore a
solemn oath when your good uncle befriended me that I would serve you.
This is the time. What can I do?"
"Alas," said I, "I know not."
"Do you know whither we are bound?" he asked.
"The Captain says to the West Indies. But I do not know if that be true
or false."
"More likely to be false than true, master. Now, then, hearken to me,
young sir. I have seen a deal of life, and have been a mariner this
thirty year or more. We must use our wits. Can you, do you think, find
out what our destination really is?"
"I am afraid not," I replied. "Nunez will not tell me more than he has
already told me."
"True," said he; "true--you will get naught out of him. But I have a
better chance. I can talk to the men--well it is that I know their lingo
sufficiently for that. But nay, I will not talk to them, I will listen
instead. They do not know that I understand Spanish. There are three of
them speak broken English--they shall do the talking. I will keep my
ears open for their Spanish--peradventure I shall hear something worth
my trouble. You see, master, if we only know where we are going, and
what we have to expect when we get there, we shall be in a much better
position than we are now. For now we are as men that walk in a fog, not
knowing where the next step will take them."
"I will do whatever you wish," said I.
"Then be careful not to have over-much converse with me, master. Yon
Nunez has the eye of a hawk and the stealth of a viper, and if he does
but suspect that you and I are in treaty together, he will throw me
overboard with a dagger wound under my shoulder-blade."
"How shall we hold converse, then?"
"As we are now doing. If I have aught to tell you I will give you a sign
when you are near me. A wink, or a nod, or a cough--either will do. And
what I have to say I will say quickly, so that whoever watches us will
think we do no more than pass the time of day."
So for that time we parted, and during the next few days I watched for
Pharaoh Nanjulian's sign eagerly, and was sadly disappointed when I
received it not. Indeed, for nearly a week he took no notice of me
whatever, giving me not even a sign of recognition as I passed him on
the deck, so that Nunez was minded to remark upon his indifference.
"Your countryman seems but a surly dog," said he. "I should have thought
he would have sought your company, Master Salkeld, but he seems to care
no more for it than for that of the ship's dog."
"He is a Cornishman and a sailor, and I am a Yorkshireman and a
gentleman," said I. "In England we should not associate one with the
other, so wherefore should we here?"
"Nay, true, unless that you are companions in adversity, and that makes
strange bedfellows," said he. "But you English are not given to
talking."
I hoped that he really thought so, and that he had no idea of the
thoughts within me. I was ready enough to talk when Pharaoh Nanjulian
gave the signal.
It came at last as he stood at the wheel one night, and I stood near,
apparently idling away my time.
"Now, master," said he, "continue looking over the side and I will talk.
I have found out where we are going."
"Well?" I said, eager enough for his news.
"We are bound for Vera Cruz, master."
"Where is that? In the West Indies?"
"It is a port of Mexico, master, and in the possession of the Spaniards,
who are devils in human shape."
"And what will they do with us there?"
"That I have also found out. It seems that your good cousin, Master
Stapleton, did make a bargain with this noble Spanish gentleman, Captain
Nunez, for getting you out of the way. The bo's'n, Pedro, says that
your cousin suggested that Nunez should sail you out to sea, and then
knock you on the head and heave you overboard. But Nunez would have none
of that, and decided that he would carry you with him to Vera Cruz."
"And what will befall me at Vera Cruz?"
"He, being a pious man, will hand you over to the Holy Office."
"To the Holy Office! You mean the Inquisitors? And they----"
"They will burn you for a Lutheran dog, master."
We were both silent for awhile. I was thinking of naught but the
fiendish cruelty which existed in such a man as Manuel Nunez. Presently
I thought of Pharaoh Nanjulian.
"And yourself?" I said. "What will he do with you?"
"I am to share your fate, master. Senor Nunez is a good and pious son of
Mother Church, and he will wipe out a score or two of sins by
presenting the stake with two English heretics."
After that I thought again for a time.
"Pharaoh," I said at last, "we will not die very willingly. I have a
good deal to live for. There is my sweetheart and my uncle to go back
to, and also I have an account to settle with Jasper Stapleton. I will
make an effort to do all this before my time comes."
"I am with you, master," said he.
"Have you thought of anything?" I asked.
"Nothing, but that we must escape," he answered.
"Could we manage that after the ship reaches Vera Cruz?"
"No, for a surety. We shall be watched as cats watch mice. If we ever
set foot on a quay-side in that accursed port, master, we are dead men.
God help us! I know what the mercies of these Spaniards are. I stood in
the City of Mexico and saw two Englishmen burnt. That was ten years
ago. But more of that anon. Let us see to the present. We are dead men,
I say, if we set foot in Vera Cruz, or any port of that cruel region."
"Then there is but one thing for us," I said.
"And that, master?"
"We must leave this ship before she drops anchor."
"That is a good notion," said he, "a right good notion; but the thing
is, how to do it?"
"Could we not take one of the boats some night, and get away in it?"
"Aye, but there are many things to consider. We should have to victual
it, and then we might run short, for we should have no compass, and no
notion, or very little, of our direction. We might starve to death, or
die of thirst."
"I had as soon die of thirst or hunger, as of fire and torture."
"Marry, and so would I. Yea, it were better to die here on the wide
ocean than in the market-place of Mexico or Vera Cruz."
"Let us try it, Pharaoh. Devise some plan. I will not fail to help if I
can be of any use."
"I will think," he said; "I will think till I find a means of escape. I
reckon that we have still a month before us. It shall go hard if our
English brains cannot devise some method whereby we may outwit these
Spanish devils."
So we began to plot and plan, spurred on by the knowledge of what
awaited us in Mexico.