_A retired and sacred part of the building devoted to the purpose_,
_richly decorated and stored with masses of gold and silver_. _A long
line of mummied dead_, _dressed in robes of cotton_, _elaborately
embroidered_, _and covered with jewels_, _are suspended to silver bars_,
_and vibrating strangely with the gentle air through the open casements_.
_Enter_ COMAGRE _and_ DRAKE, _who_, _startled and amazed at the
unexpected scene_, _recoils with awe_.
COMAGRE. This, noble Drake, is the Hall of my Ancestors—the sacred
mansion of the dead. There they are! (_he points to them_). In hours of
sorrow or danger I visit them. Their spirits come from the happy land to
sympathise with mine.
DRAKE (_much interested_). Are these the real bodies of the dead? How
have they been preserved?
COMAGRE. The art is of ancient time, and came from beyond the great sea
with the first fathers of the land. They are dried by fire, then wrapped
in cloth of cotton with potent spices. Their robes are embroidered by
the hands of our women, skilled in a secret language, which perpetuates
to their descendants the memory of their deeds.
DRAKE. They are covered with gold and precious stones, which you would
do well to conceal from the Spaniards. These diamonds and emeralds,
these rubies and pearls are of priceless value. Not all the Royal Crowns
and robes of Europe could show the like. They are safe from us; but if
they were the property of Spain, I would tear them from convent, church,
or altar.
COMAGRE. Noble Englishman, ’tis for this I love you, and have sought
your friendship. I have opened my home—my treasures—my heart to you.
Give us vengeance! if not protection. Friend hear the wrongs of our
country in the presence of these noble dead. It is now a few years,
since two Spaniards, sinking under fatigue and hunger, were captured in
the forest having fled for their lives from their own cruel countrymen.
They should have been put to death at once, being Spaniards, but the
kindness of our nature prevailed. They were saved, brought home to the
village, protected, nourished, treated as brothers.
DRAKE (_deeply interested_). How kind! How good! Well, friend?
COMAGRE (_with bitter indignation_). Well! They held secret intercourse
with our foes.
DRAKE. Treacherous villains!
COMAGRE. With the very men who had doomed them to ignominious death as
traitors.
DRAKE. Which they deserved.
COMAGRE. Betrayed the homes, the wealth, the secret paths of those who
had sheltered—saved them.
DRAKE (_greatly excited_). Wretches!
COMAGRE. Well! without preparation or notice, in the darkness of the
night we were attacked—robbed—massacred. The village was set on fire,
men, women, and children were hurled into the flames.
DRAKE. Inhuman monsters!
COMAGRE. The morning sun rose upon calcined bones, and blackened ruins,
where before was pleasure, loveliness and peace!
DRAKE (_holding up his hands and walking about in great excitement_).
Horrible recital! Barbarous, unprovoked! Brutal cruelty! This is worse
than the ravening of wild beasts.
COMAGRE (_with intensified rage_). Wild beasts! The rage of the most
savage beast of the forest is gentleness compared with it! The boa will
gorge himself and go to sleep. The ferocious puma will pounce upon a
single victim and his appetite for blood will be appeased. But the
ruthless fury of the Spaniard, when exhausted with slaughter, calls upon
the devouring flames to aid him, and commits to senseless havoc, what his
licentious appetite cannot enjoy, or his insatiate avarice carry away!
(_He pauses breathless_. _Then walks about with hurried step_, _gasping
and frantic with rage_.)
DRAKE. The same everywhere—Spain wars upon mankind, like fiends. The
object, slavery or desolation.
COMAGRE. Give us revenge—Smite! Kill! Destroy the accursed foe! On
with your devastating thunder, those iron mouths that wing their viewless
death from far, that dauntless heart, that powerful arm. Come on
Brother; come, Revenge. Revenge! Revenge! (_Dragging_ DRAKE _along_,
_exeunt_).
_Scene changes_.