THE FATE OF NUNEZ AND FREY BARTOLOMEO.
By that time the fight was well-nigh over. During its progress another
English ship had sailed up on the other side of the Spaniard, and her
men were now swarming over the side, eager to have some share in the
struggle. Thus it came about that in a few moments, the Spaniards were
completely worsted, and were forced to lay down their arms and beg for
mercy.
I found Pharaoh Nanjulian busily occupied in seeing to the removal of
several men, who were too weak to move of their own accord, from the
benches where we had lately been chained. These were being carried to
the English ships, where they were received with such indignation as is
felt by honest men who abhor cruelty. So strong, indeed, were the
feelings aroused amongst the English sailors at the sight of our
bleeding backs, that their officers had much ado to prevent them from
slaying the Spaniards without mercy.
"Where is the monk, Pharaoh?" I said. "He must not escape. Have you seen
aught of him during the fight?"
But Pharaoh had seen naught. He had been fighting hard himself, and that
being over he had turned his attention to such of our unfortunate
companions as were unable to help themselves.
"He cannot be far away, master," said he. "The rat will have found some
hole, no doubt."
At that moment one of Drake's officers came pressing on board, asking
for the friar.
"Bring him aboard the Golden Hinde unharmed," said he, "and the Spanish
captain too. 'Tis Captain Drake's special order. Harm neither of them,
but have them aboard."
But neither Nunez nor Frey Bartolomeo were to be seen. Their men, such
as survived--and they were but few,--stood bound on deck, glaring
sullenly at their captors, but neither monk nor captain were at hand.
"Try the cabin," said one, and we made our way to the cabin under the
poop, where Nunez was used to sit. But the door was fast, and we had to
break it down. As the first man rushed in he fell back dead, with a
sword-thrust through his heart from Nunez, while the second dropped with
a dagger-wound in his throat. But ere he could strike again Pharaoh
Nanjulian had seized him by the neck, and Captain Manuel Nunez was
dragged into the light, dispossessed of his weapons and bound securely.
I stood and looked at him, and suddenly the fierce scowl of hate and
rage cleared away from his features, and the old mocking, cold smile
began to play about the corners of his eyes and mouth again.
"The fortunes of war, Master Salkeld," said he. "Yesterday you were down
and I was up. To-day you are up and I am down. 'Tis fate."
But I had no time to talk with him then, for I was anxious to find Frey
Bartolomeo. Therefore Pharaoh and I left Nunez with the officer and
began searching the ship high and low. Because on first coming aboard
her we had been straightway conducted to the oars we knew next to
nothing of the Santa Filomena, and were accordingly some time in getting
our bearings. Nevertheless we could find no trace of the monk, who
seemed to have vanished into thin air, or to have gone overboard during
the fight. He was not to be found either in cockpit or cabin, forecastle
or lazaretto, and at last we stared blankly in each other's faces and
wondered what had become of him.
"There is one place we have not yet tried," said Pharaoh, "and that is
the powder magazine. Maybe he has retreated there."
We fetched a Spaniard from the upper deck and obliged him to conduct us
to the magazine, and there, sure enough, was Frey Bartolomeo, calm and
impassive as ever. He had stove in the head of one barrel of gunpowder,
and now stood over the powder holding a lighted candle in his hand. As
we burst in the door and confronted him, he raised his pale face and
regarded us with calmness and scorn.
"Lay but a finger on me, ye Lutheran dogs," he said, "and I will drop
this light into the powder and send your souls to perdition!"
The men with us started back, dismayed and affrighted by his grim looks
and determined words. But Pharaoh Nanjulian laughed.
"Your own soul will go with ours, friar," said he.
Frey Bartolomeo shot a fierce glance at him from under his cowl.
"Fool!" he said. "Thinkest thou that I value life? What hinders me from
destroying every one of you and myself as well?"
"This!" said Pharaoh, suddenly knocking the candle out of his hand. It
flew across the powder, and striking a bulkhead opposite, went out
harmlessly. So we seized Frey Bartolomeo, who now bitterly reproached
himself for not having blown up the ship before we reached him, and
conducted him to the upper deck, from whence he and Captain Nunez were
presently conveyed to the Golden Hinde, where they were safely stowed in
irons.
And now, the fight being over, Drake and his men made haste to see what
treasure the galleon contained. In this quest, however, those of us who
had been rescued from the oars took no part, for now that the excitement
was dying away our feverish strength went with it, so that we presently
began to exhibit signs of terrible distress and exhaustion, and many of
us swooned away. Here, however, our rescuers came to our further relief,
and the ship's doctor was soon busily engaged in seeing to us, dressing
our wounds, giving us oils and unguents for our bloody stripes, and
ordering wine and food for all of us. So we were much refreshed; but
none of these things, comforting as they were, seemed so good to us as
the words of kindness, which we heard with wonder and astonishment, our
ears having become accustomed to naught but threatenings and revilings.
While we were occupied in this pleasant fashion, Drake's men transferred
a vast amount of treasure from the Santa Filomena to the Golden Hinde.
There was a large quantity of jewels, fourteen chests of ryals of plate,
over a hundred pounds weight of gold, twenty tons of uncoined silver,
and pieces of wrought gold and silver plate of great value. The
discovery of all this treasure put our newly-found friends in high
good-humor, such ventures not having come in their way since they had
left the coast of Panama some months previous.
When all this treasure had been transferred to Drake's vessel, the
Golden Hinde, the admiral sent for the Englishmen who had been rescued
from the Santa Filomena, and gave audience to us on the quarterdeck. A
sad and sorry multitude we looked, spite of the surgeon's care, as we
stood gazing at the great sea-captain who had rescued us, and waiting
for him to speak.
"Friends and fellow-countrymen," said he, "every one of you shall go
back with me to England. We have strange tales to tell ourselves, and
so, it is somewhat evident, have ye. Be content now, I will charge
myself with your welfare. Where is he that spoke with me this morning?"
So I stepped forward, and he looked upon me keenly.
"Thy name, friend?"
"Humphrey Salkeld, sir, nephew of Sir Thurstan Salkeld of Beechcot, in
the East Riding of Yorkshire."
"Tell me thy tale, Master Salkeld."
So I gave him the history that I have here written down, and when it
came to our doings in Mexico I spoke for Pharaoh Nanjulian and for all
who stood behind me. When I had got to the period which we spent on
board the Santa Filomena, my companions in distress bared their
shoulders and backs, and showed him the scars and the wounds and the
stripes which we had received. Then his face grew stern and set and the
English sailors that stood by groaned in their wrath and indignation.
"I am beholden to you, Master Salkeld," he said, when I had done. "Are
there any of you that would say more?"
But none wished to speak save one old white-haired man, who lifted up
his hand and called God to witness that all I had said was true, and
that our torments under the Inquisition had been such as could only be
prompted by the devil.
Then Drake commanded his men to bring forward Manuel Nunez and Frey
Bartolomeo, and presently they stood before us, still bold and defiant,
and Drake looked upon them.
"I am thinking, Senors," said he, "that if I had wrought such misdeeds
upon your people as you have upon mine, and you had caught me red-handed
as I have caught you, there would have been something in the way of
torture for me before I came to my last end. But be not alarmed; we
Englishmen love justice, but we hate cruelty. And so we will be just to
you, and we will send you to your true place, where there is doubtless a
reward prepared for you. Hang them to the yard-arm of their own ship."
So they carried Nunez and the monk over the side, and presently their
bodies swung from the yard-arm of the Santa Filomena, and so they
passed to their reward. And as for Nunez, he mocked us till the end, but
the monk said never a word, but stared fixedly before him, seeming to
care no more for death than he had for the sufferings that he had heaped
upon his fellow-men.
After that Drake restored the Spaniards whom we had captured to their
own ship, and bade them go home, or back to Mexico, or wherever they
pleased, and to tell their masters what Francis Drake had done to them,
and that he would do the same to every Spaniard who crossed his path.