TOM AND ARCHY IN PRISON--THEIR TRICK ON THE GAOLER--SOLDIERS APPEAR--
TAKEN FROM PRISON--MEET COLONEL O'REGAN--MARCHED THROUGH THE TOWN--
PRISONERS GOING TO EXECUTION--DISTANT CANNONADING HEARD--THE
FIRING-PARTY--DEATH OF COLONEL O'REGAN--THE MIDSHIPMEN TRY TO HELP HIM--
CARRIED BACK TO PRISON--THEY AND STELLA LIBERATED BY MURRAY.
We must return to the night when Gerald Desmond and Needham made their
escape from the prison.
As soon as they were gone, Tom Rogers and Archy Gordon set to work on
the bar, and by hauling and pulling gradually worked it back into its
former position. They then stuck on the rust as before, and swept the
windows clear of the filings and remaining bits of rust, which might
have betrayed them.
"Now, Miss O'Regan, do lie down and take some rest," said Tom, ever
thoughtful of others. "You need it much already, and you cannot tell
what fatigue you may have shortly to go through. I have hopes that
before long we shall get out of prison, and in the meantime it will
puzzle the gaoler to know how our friends have escaped, unless he
happens to hit upon this bar, and that I hope he will not do."
Tom and Archy returned to their own room.
"The longer the gaolers remain ignorant of the escape of Desmond and
Needham the better," observed Tom. "I think that I can contrive to rig
up two figures which may help to do so. Fortunately, Needham has left
his red handkerchief behind him, that must serve as his night-cap. I
will make the head of straw, and cover it with my handkerchief, the body
we must form by heaping up the straw and then throwing a rug over it.
Now, Archy, your handkerchief must serve as Desmond's head, and we will
put your cap on the top of it."
Gordon, of course, agreed to the proposal. They set to work at once and
as far as the pale light of the moon, which came through tie windows,
could enable them to judge, they were well satisfied with their
performance. They then laid down to sleep with clear consciences, on
their own somewhat diminished heaps of straw.
The gaoler who brought their breakfast seldom did more than put it in at
the door, being satisfied with a glance round the room at its four
inmates. He looked in, as was his custom, the following morning, and
seeing two figures in the dark corners of the room, supposed that the
seaman and one of the midshipmen were indulging in a longer sleep than
usual. Tom and Archy put their hands to their heads, and shook them, as
much as to say that their friends were suffering from head-ache. This
seemed to satisfy the gaoler, who departed, much to the satisfaction of
the midshipmen, without making a closer inspection.
"At all events, it shows that our friends have not been caught, or we
should have had the room searched," observed Tom. "I hope that they
have found the Consulate, and if so, we shall probably be liberated
before the day is over. I wish, however, we could hear something about
the colonel, for the sake of his poor daughter."
The midshipmen naturally had got very weary at being so long shut up.
Their spirits, however, now rose at the thoughts of their speedy
liberation, and they made a hearty meal off their somewhat coarse fare.
A couple of hours or more passed, when Polly knocked at the door, and
said that Miss O'Regan would be glad to see them.
"I have been thinking more than ever about my poor father," she said,
"and I cannot help fearing from the remarks let drop by the gaoler's
wife, that he must be very ill. I have in vain begged her to let me go
and see him--can you think of any plan by which I may do so? If the old
lady would take me down into the common cell, I would gladly consent to
be shut up with him."
"Perhaps by putting our heads together we may hit upon some plan for
getting the colonel up here to see you," answered Tom. "That would be
much better, for you can have no idea of the set of ruffians you would
have to meet in the lower prison, and I am very sure that the colonel
would not allow you to be among them."
All sorts of schemes were discussed. The chief hope was that they might
work on the feelings of the gaoler's wife, who was evidently well
disposed towards them. They had been talking for some time when,
hearing footsteps coming along the passage, the midshipmen hurried back
to their own room. Instead of the gaoler, however, as the door opened,
a party of soldiers with fixed bayonets appeared.
"What can these fellows want?" exclaimed Archy.
The soldiers forthwith marched into the room, and, without speaking,
began to fasten the midshipmen's arms behind them.
"This doesn't look pleasant," cried Tom. "I say, you fellows, what are
you about?"
The soldiers made no reply, but continued lashing their aims.
Four, in the meantime, had walked up to the corner where they expected
to find the other prisoners; their astonishment was very great when they
found instead only some heaps of straw. They talked for a minute
together, casting looks at Tom and Archy which betokened no good-will.
One of them having gone out came back with the gaoler, who began
questioning them, though, as they scarcely understood a word he said,
they were not very well able to give lucid replies. They, of course,
guessed, however, that he was making inquiries as to what had become of
their companions.
"They will be back soon, I dare say," said Tom. "If you will let us
wait till then we shall be much obliged to you."
"Non intende," answered the gaoler.
"Not in ten days!" exclaimed Tom, even at that moment unable to refrain
from a joke.
The gaoler, not being a bit the wiser for Tom's reply, began to stamp
and rave, and then repeated his questions in a louder voice, expecting
that by so doing he should elicit an answer. At last, he and four of
the soldiers went into Miss O'Regan's room, and while two of them
cross-questioned her and Polly as to what had become of the missing
prisoners, the others searched the room in the hopes of discovering
them. Their answers did not satisfy the men, for, like true women,
having determined that they would not say what had become of their
friends, nothing could induce them to acknowledge that they knew
anything about the matter. Fortunately, the soldiers did not think of
examining the bars, as it did not occur to them that the fugitives had
escaped by the window; at last they came back, looking very
disheartened. Four of the soldiers, roughly dragging the midshipmen
into the passage, led them downstairs. They were then conducted into a
courtyard, where a number of other prisoners were collected, some
heavily-manacled, and others with their arms secured as theirs were, by
ropes. They looked round, and, before long, recognised Colonel O'Regan,
as also the masters, mates, and men of the two merchantmen. There were,
besides, a number of prisoners in military uniform, whose countenances
all wore an agitated and anxious expression, though some tried to hold
up their heads and to look indifferent as to the fate awaiting them.
All the Englishmen were manacled, as though their captors supposed that
they would make an attempt to escape. The midshipmen would scarcely
have known Colonel O'Regan had it not been for his dress and his tall,
commanding figure, so pale and haggard had he become; their guards not
stopping them, they made their way up to him. He recognised them with a
smile of satisfaction.
"What are they going to do with us, Colonel O'Regan?" asked Tom,
naturally beginning to feel more nervous than at first.
"To murder us, I fear," answered the colonel, in a low voice; "for
myself, I care not, but for her and for you my heart bleeds. Tell me,
young gentlemen, where is she? How does she bear up against the cruel
fate which has overtaken her? I have been unable to learn anything
about her since I was shut up in that horrid den with these ruffians."
The poor colonel was somewhat relieved at hearing that his daughter was
not ill-treated, and that her black maid was allowed to remain with her.
Tom told him also of the kindness of the gaoler's wife.
"She is not ungrateful, then, for a slight service I once did her,
little thinking at the time how it would be repaid," he remarked. "Poor
girl, these barbarians would not allow me even a last parting farewell
with her."
"But do you really suppose that there is no hope for us, Colonel
O'Regan?" exclaimed Tom. "Surely they will not dare to shoot us!"
"For myself I certainly expect no mercy," answered the colonel,
gloomily. "I have, however, hopes that though they may not be
influenced by pity for you and your companion, they will hesitate before
they injure those clad in the uniform of the British navy. I do not,
therefore, despair of your lives; and though I cannot plead for myself I
will for you."
Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of an officer, who gave
orders to the guard to conduct the prisoners to the _Campo_ outside the
town.
Tom rejoined Archy Gordon and they followed the colonel, who was marched
out with Captain Crowhurst as his companion. They were joined by
several priests with crucifixes in their hands, who, addressing the
prisoners as they walked alongside them, offered to afford them the
consolations of their religion.
"We want none of their mummery," exclaimed Captain Crowhurst, in a tone
of indignant contempt. "Do tell the fellows, colonel, to let us alone."
The colonel, instead of interpreting this speech, mildly addressed the
priests, and assured them that he and his companions did not require
their services, as they differed in creed. The friars now came to Tom
and Archy, but soon finding that they did not understand a word they
said they fell back to those in the rear. The master of the sloop and
the mates spoke much in the same tone as Captain Crowhurst had done, and
the priests observing that they were heretics devoted their attention to
their own countrymen. Two of the priests, more persevering than the
rest, returned again to the colonel; he motioned them aside with the
same courteousness as before. Still they addressed him.
"My friends," he said at length, "I give you full credit for the honesty
of your intentions, but as I have lived so I hope to die, protesting
against the false system and erroneous doctrines in which you appear to
believe. I have no faith in them, and, therefore, you only interrupt a
person who would ask strength from One in whose presence he is about
shortly to appear, that he may go through the severe trial he is called
upon to endure."
The calm and dignified manner of the brave colonel rebuked the officious
priests, and they returned without venturing to utter any of the
contemptuous remarks which they had bestowed on his less polished
fellow-sufferers.
Crowds collected in the streets to see the mournful procession pass:
most of the Englishmen walked boldly on, with heads erect and undismayed
countenances; many of them, indeed, scarcely believed that the
government would venture to put them to death; the natives, on the
contrary, fully aware of the sanguinary disposition of their countrymen,
expected no mercy, but marched on with trembling knees and downcast
countenances, expecting the fate which awaited them. They had been
captured in open rebellion, attempting to overthrow the government, and
were conscious how they themselves would have treated their enemies had
they exchanged places.
The crowd gathered rapidly, eager to indulge themselves of the spectacle
which was about to take place. Suddenly there came a booming sound of a
gun across the harbour followed by the thunder of several others, one at
short intervals much louder than the rest. The colonel and Captain
Crowhurst turned their heads.
"Those guns come from vessels in action," said Tom; "perhaps one is an
English ship; if so she is sure to give the Dons a drubbing."
Some of the crowd hastened to the harbour to see what had taken place.
The soldiers advanced with their prisoners at a more rapid rate than
before; they quickly reached an open place just outside the town. Here
they stopped, and presently several officers came on the field. The
prisoners were marched a short distance to the front of the troops, who
extended their line on either side of them. An officer of rank with his
staff now rode up. Colonel O'Regan on seeing him stepped forward.
"General Carmona," he said, "I have been your enemy, and have no hope of
mercy at our hands. I, therefore, do not ask it for myself; I speak for
these men, who if they have broken your laws did so in ignorance; still
more earnestly do I entreat you not to injure these two young English
officers, who, as I informed your commodore, are entirely guiltless.
They were saved at sea from a wreck by the brig on board which I was a
passenger, and if you put them to death you will bring the vengeance of
their countrymen on your head; you may have some excuse for shooting me,
but you will have none if you murder them, for murder it will be,
whatever you may call it."
This address seemed to have some effect on the general, who, however,
issued no counter-orders to the officers charged with the execution of
the prisoners. The colonel, with the two masters and their four mates,
together with the principal natives (all of whom appeared to be of the
rank of officers) were placed in a row, when several soldiers came
behind them for the purpose of binding handkerchiefs over their eyes.
The colonel turned round to the men who were about to perform that
office for him with a calm smile.
"I desire to gaze my last on the blue sky above us," he said gently.
"Let me at least die like a soldier--it is the only favour I ask."
His companions followed the colonel's example, and begged to be allowed
to die with eyes unbound. The general now ordered the officer in
command of the firing-party to hurry his preparations.
"As you have so many to dispose of, it would have made shorter work had
you placed them all together," he shouted out.
The rest of the prisoners had, in the meantime, been led on one side to
await their turn. The firing-party now advanced--the doomed men gazed
at them with pale, though undaunted countenances. The commanding
officer, in a loud, harsh voice, gave the usual order, "Make ready,"
"Present," then came the fatal word--"Fire!" Some fell forward, shot
dead; others were struggling and writhing on the ground; Colonel O'Regan
alone was standing upright. It was but for a moment; he was seen to
stagger forward, then to fall heavily on his face. Regardless of the
danger they ran from the firing-party, who advanced to plunge their
bayonets into the bodies of those who still had life in them, Tom and
Archy dashed forward with the idea of helping their unfortunate friend.
They attempted to raise him, but the expression of his countenance, and
the blood oozing from a wound in his breast, told them but too truly
that all was over; and had not their guards, who were alarmed on their
own account at having allowed them to escape, dragged them back they
would probably have been bayoneted on the spot. Just then an officer,
who came galloping up with looks of consternation on his countenance,
informed the general that his corvette, the chief vessel of his navy
with which he believed that he could defy the world, had struck her flag
to a British brig-of-war, and that his brig had been sent to the bottom.
The news produced an electric effect on him and his officers. He at
once gave orders that the surviving English prisoners should be
conducted back to gaol under charge of a small body of troops, while the
rest were marched off to the batteries.
"We have had a narrow escape," said Tom to Archy, not at the time aware
to what cause they were indebted for their preservation. "We ought
indeed to be thankful; but I would have given anything to have saved the
colonel. Poor Miss O'Regan, what will she do with no one to look after
her?"
"But we will do our best!" answered Archy; "and as I have a notion that
she will some day be my cousin, I have a sort of right, you know, to
watch over her."
"But in the meantime what shall we say to that poor young lady?" asked
Tom.
"I haven't the heart to tell her that her father has been shot,"
answered Archy, "though, of course, something must be said; we must not
tell her a falsehood, that's certain."
"Then we must just say that we were marched out into the country, when
firing was heard which we have no doubt came from an English ship of
war, and then we were marched back again," said Tom. "If she asks any
further questions we need not say anything more, and perhaps before long
we shall all be on board, when she will be better able to bear her
misfortune than she would be shut up in prison."
Much to their satisfaction the midshipmen were taken back to the room
they had before occupied. The great drawback, however, was the fear
they felt of being cross-questioned by Miss O'Regan. They had not been
there long before they heard the gaoler's wife go into her room; and
they guessed that she would tell the poor girl more than they themselves
could venture to do.
There was a great deal of talking, and after some time the old woman
went away. Scarcely had she gone than Miss O'Regan opened their door.
"I have important news for you," she exclaimed, in an animated tone: and
she gave them the information she had just heard, that an English
brig-of-war had captured the whole of the Carthagenan fleet, and that
the authorities as well as the people were in a state of the greatest
possible alarm and agitation.
"We may expect therefore to be speedily liberated," she added. "My poor
father must also be set free."
She had been so interested in describing what she had heard that she did
not make the inquiries they expected, and the midshipmen were saved the
pain of informing her of her father's death.
They passed the next two hours in a state of great anxiety; at last
footsteps were heard, and voices coming towards their room. Their door
was thrown open and there stood Lieutenant Murray, Gerald Desmond,
Needham, and several strangers, one of whom was in the consular uniform.
The former giving them a smile of recognition, hurried into Miss
O'Regan's room, and Paddy Desmond, after warmly shaking hands, began
recounting to them the adventures he and Needham had gone through. They
in return had a sad tale to tell of the events which had lately
occurred. It was cut short by the reappearance of Murray with Miss
O'Regan leaning on his arm, followed by Polly carrying the box with her
mistress's wardrobe.
"Now, young gentlemen," said the consul, "we have come to conduct you to
my house, where no one will dare to molest you, and I daresay that you
will be glad to get out of the prison."
"Yes, indeed we shall, sir," answered Tom, "but I should like to wish
the gaoler's wife good-bye."
"I am sorry to tell you that she and her husband have been dismissed
from their post, and are now themselves confined in one of the cells in
which they have been accustomed to lock up others. However, I will do
my best for them, and in a short time there will be another change of
government, when they will probably be reinstated. They are accused of
having connived at the escape of your companions, and I can probably
help them by explaining how it occurred."
Murray had thought it better not to tell Stella of her father's death.
Her suspicions, however, had been aroused, and she pathetically begged
that she might see him.
"It is impossible," answered Murray. "Let me entreat you not to inquire
further at present, and you shall be informed of all that has happened
as soon as we reach the consul's house."
Stella was silent. The dreadful truth began to dawn on her. She dare
not ask another question.
With no small satisfaction the party found themselves outside the prison
walls. They were not interfered with by the populace, who regarded the
conqueror of their fleet rather with awe and respect than any vindictive
feelings. The vice-consul's Spanish wife received the young English
lady with a kind welcome, and did her best to prepare her for the
afflicting intelligence she was to hear. Murray undertook the task.
Her grief was too great for tears.
"I was prepared for it," she said, at length. "A fearful foreboding of
evil has oppressed me since we sailed from Antigua. I cannot help
thinking that he himself felt that such might too probably be his fate,
yet he braved it under the belief that he was engaged in the cause of
humanity."
The consolation Murray offered was not without its due effect.
"There is one, at all events, who will take your father's place, and
joyfully devote his life to your service and to watching over you with
the tenderest love," he said, taking her hand.
"I know it," she answered, "and my father often expressed his
satisfaction at the thought that I might some day become your wife."
Stella had another trial to undergo when receiving from Tom and Archy
the last message which her father sent her.
Although the consul promised to protect her, and the ladies of the
family treated her with the greatest sympathy and kindness, she was
naturally anxious to join her friends in Jamaica, and Murray was also
unwilling that she should remain longer on shore than possible.
There were few places at that time more disorganised and disturbed than
Carthagena. The consul himself and his family, indeed, were frightened,
and gladly accepted Murray's invitation to take up their quarters on
board the _Supplejack_, till matters were in a more settled state on
shore. The consul's boat was in readiness, and the whole party were
soon assembled on the deck of the brig. Their departure showed the
government that the commander intended to carry out his threat of
sending for a fleet to bombard their town should his demands not be
complied with. Another messenger was therefore despatched to hasten the
departure of the captured merchantmen, which, the wind being favourable,
within the time allowed were seen entering the harbour.
As his duty would not allow Murray to leave Carthagena until he had
received instructions from the admiral, he determined forthwith to send
the _Sarah Jane_ with an account of the event which had occurred, and to
ask for instructions.
As soon as she came to an anchor, Higson, Tom, and Archy, with a boat's
crew were sent on board. Great was the midshipmen's delight when they
stepped on deck to see "Master Spider" on the top of the caboose,
apparently on excellent terms with his new associates; he knew his old
friends, however, at once, and came hopping down to greet them with
every demonstration of pleasure.
The brig was in a terribly dirty condition, and the furniture of the
cabin was considerably damaged, while the greater part of her cargo and
every article of value had been carried off.
The native crew was sent on shore, and Murray picked out the most
respectable of her former ship's company, with two or three of the best
men out of the sloop to man her, promising them a handsome reward if
they behaved well.
Though he could ill spare Higson, there was no one else to whom he could
entrust the command of her.
He felt bound also to send the three midshipmen back to their ships, and
the confidence he had in Needham made him resolve to send him, and in
addition he picked out four good men from the _Supplejack_.
"I hope we have made up a tolerable ship's company for you, Higson," he
said; "keep a watchful eye over them, and do not trust them too much;
they have ample inducement to behave well, but they have been so long, I
suspect, engaged in lawless pursuits, that it is impossible to say what
tricks they may take it into their heads to play."
Murray was constantly on board the _Sarah Jane_, endeavouring to restore
her cabin to its former state of comfort. He felt that Stella could not
stay on board the _Supplejack_ with him, and painful as it was to part
with her, his only course was to send her at once to her friends in
Jamaica.
She herself saw the propriety of this, and made no demur. "I can trust
you confidently to the care of Mr Higson and your former young
protectors," he said, as he made the proposal. "As soon as duty will
allow me I hope to return to Jamaica, and then I trust that nothing will
occur to prevent me from making you mine, and giving me the right to
protect and watch over you."
Scarcely half an hour had elapsed after this before Stella was once more
on board the _Sarah Jane_. Sail was made, the anchor lifted, and the
brig with a fair wind glided out of the harbour.
Murray continued on board her as far as he could venture to sea, but as
he dared not be long absent from the _Supplejack_, he was at length
compelled to return.