PAIGNTON ROB'S STORY.
The three broken sailor men attacked the ample venison pasty with a
zeal and thoroughness that betokened long abstention from work of a
similar nature, and the sack trickled gratefully down parched throats.
Morgan and Jeffreys drank to their better fortune, but would not touch
the food, pleading that their ordinary dinner time was a full hour off,
and that they were pledged to make havoc of some pastries made by a
certain young gentlewoman, who would undoubtedly be much grieved if
they did not eat as heartily as was their wont. So the Paignton man
and his Plymouth comrades shared the pie amongst themselves, the two
others looking about and noting the other occupants of the inn parlour.
Some of these were known by repute to Jeffreys, and he gave Morgan
information concerning them.
The pie-dish stood empty. Johnnie expressed an opinion that apples
were roasting somewhere. Nick Johnson sniffed the air, and promptly
agreed with him, adding that the fragrance of roasting apples awoke
memories of far-off Devon. Whereupon the forester remarked that they
had a like effect upon him, and that he was minded to have a dish with
a little cream, if all the company would join him. There was no
objector, and each man was soon busy with hot apples and cream. After
this Jeffreys ordered fresh flagons of wine, and asked Paignton Rob for
his story.
"Will Master Morgan care for the recital?" queried Rob.
"My ears are burning," cried Johnnie. "I seem to have strolled out of
Chepe this morning right into America. Stint not a word of thy story
if thou hast any desire to please me."
"So be it, friends. I cannot but wish that some other man had the
telling of it. You will remember--at least thou wilt, Timothy--how
Captain John Oxenham sailed out from Plymouth with the _Hawk_, one
hundred and forty ton barque, and a crew of seventy men, for the
Spanish Main?"
"Ay; report says that all were slain by fever and the Indians."
"Therein doth report speak falsely. We three went with Oxenham, and we
sit here to-day to tell the tale. Whether any other tongue hath told
it I cannot say. There is scant hope of any more survivors. Well, to
the story itself. We went out of Plymouth Sound, threescore and ten,
men and boys, well armed and victualled for six months. We turned our
prow westwards, prepared like good adventurers to take what fortune the
seas might bring us. The voyage proved a speedy one, with a singular
lack of ungentle weather: good omen, we thought, for the success of our
enterprise. On the way our captain's plans, which had been somewhat
uncertain at the first, took fixed shape. We passed south of the main
isles of the Indies, steering for the eastern seaboard of the Isthmus
of Panama. We cast along the shore for two days seeking an anchorage,
and we found what we sought in a wooded creek, fringed and thronged
with islets. A winding river emptied into the creek, and the banks
were so thickly clothed with forest as almost to shut out the light of
the sun. Dismasting our ship, we thrust her into a tiny bay o'erhung
by giant trees, and neither from river nor bank could a glimpse of her
be obtained. For a day we worked, making all snug aboard; then we
loaded ourselves with provisions and arms, and set out to cross the
isthmus to Panama itself, intending to rob the Spanish nest of the
golden eggs that daily were laid therein.
"There is little to tell of the story of our march to the Pacific. We
cut our way for days at a time through woods that were well-nigh
impassable. We climbed mountains, threaded defiles, waded through
stream and swamp. Our backs bent beneath the weight of our burdens;
giant thorns tore, first our clothes, then afterwards our flesh. The
sun roasted us by day; mists enwreathed and chilled us by night; a
myriad insects bit us, and roaring beasts and lurking reptiles harassed
our steps. Some of us were quickly down with fever, and added to the
burdens of our comrades, for they bore us upon rude litters of boughs.
Oxenham fought shy of the native villages, not being minded to give
rumour the chance to herald our approach to the golden goal we sought.
"By good hap we came upon a stream at the foot of some hills, flowing
westwards. We followed it for a while, until we felt assured that it
was navigable, and also that it emptied itself into the Pacific. Then
we halted, built huts for our sick, cut down timber and set about the
making of a stout pinnace that would carry us on the rest of our quest.
We also scoured the woods for game and fruits, and harvested the waters
for fish. When our boat was builded, our sick were also upon their
feet again. We had brought with us three light cannon; these we
mounted on our little craft, rigged up mast and sail, and went down the
swift current, westward ho! once more.
"It was no longer possible to avoid the native towns and villages, so
at the first we engaged a guide who knew enough of coast Spanish to
understand our wants and be our interpreter to his friends. We found
that the Indians hated the Spaniards and dreaded their rapacity and
cruelty. As Englishmen and foes of Spain, we always got a welcome; and
Oxenham had wit enough to be kind, courteous, and generous, and so win
a welcome for us for our own sakes. Our voyage down the river was a
sort of triumphal progress, and we made ten thousand faithful allies.
At last came the day when the river broadened to an estuary; when we
saw the tide marks along the roots of the mangroves, and the salt
flavour was in the air, and white-winged gulls swept screaming over our
heads, scaring away the gaudy, noisy parrots that had been our
feathered companions for so long. The next morning the sun shot up for
us, a golden ball of cheering presage, from out the glittering bosom of
the Pacific. What a shout we raised! Weeks of toil and fever were
forgotten, scars and bruises healed--or were felt no longer--when the
glorious heave of ocean waters lifted our keel!"
Paignton Rob paused and lifted his flagon to his lips. He put it down
reflectively. "Do ye mind that morn, comrades?" he asked.
"Shall we ever forget it!" exclaimed the two Plymouth men in a breath.
The company nodded to Rob, and took a friendly sip of sack in his
honour. He took up again the thread of his story.
"A native that had come down the coast from the direction of Panama
came to our captain with information that two treasure-ships were
expected from Peru, and he offered to be our guide to the Isle of
Pearls, situated about five-and-twenty leagues from Panama itself, and
in the direct line of sailing to the city. We accepted his offer
gladly, and the fellow led us to a snug anchorage whence we could espy
our prey and make ready to sally forth and seize him.
"We lay under the island for one night and the better part of a day
before our lookout in a tree-top at the edge of a steep cliff sang out,
'Sail ho! Spanish rig!' We were alert on the instant, watching the
Spaniard bowling north-eastwards before a stiff breeze. At the right
moment we slipped our cable, hoisted sail, and stood out to sea right
in his path. No news of our presence on the isthmus had got abroad,
and the foe did not suspect us until he was within range of our small
guns, when we promptly sent a couple of shots splintering into his
bulwarks. He was not long before he swung round and replied. But we
were too low in the water to be in any danger from his bigger pieces,
and in a little while we were under his lee and swarming aboard. For a
few minutes there was as pretty a fight as man could wish for; then the
Spaniard struck his flag and threw down his weapons.
"Well, we rifled cabins and holds; got about a hundred goodly bars of
gold and a chest of pearls. The cabin gave us an excellent supply of
wine and some curious golden images of native workmanship. We helped
ourselves also to some better clothing, then let the Spaniard go his
way.
"For two more days we hung about the island, then seized a ship with a
cargo, mostly of silver bars. Our pinnace was now so heavily laden
that we durst not venture to put anything more aboard her. We were
rich enough already, and, knowing that the authorities at Panama would
soon hear of our exploits, we turned south to our river again, and set
out on our journey back to our hidden ship and the Atlantic.
"So far we had lost but two men, and one of these had died from fever.
Half a score of us, maybe, had received wounds. The Spanish dogs will
not fight much on a ship's deck, and the silver galleon offered us
hardly any resistance. 'Tis easy work enough, this gathering of
Spanish gold in the Indies. Do I speak within the strict bounds of
truth, comrades?"
"True as a Bible verse, Rob," said Nick Johnson; and brother Ned
assented with a seaman's "Ay! ay!"
Rob took advantage of the pause to take another peep into his flagon,
and Johnnie asked him if he could see bottom.
"Depth enough to float my barque a little longer," replied Rob.
"We did not waste much time feasting or merrymaking with our Indian
allies; we just stayed long enough for civility and the procuring of a
couple of canoes and rowers to ease the burden in our pinnace. Then we
set off up-stream. An under-chief came with us, and he was to obtain
carriers for our booty and provisions at the last village before we
should be forced to quit the river and take to the forests and
mountains. But we did not get along so quickly as we purposed at the
first. News of our victories over the detested Dons had spread like a
fire through the isthmus. Chiefs came to palaver, offer gifts, and sue
for our protection. The whole land wanted to shelter beneath the
banner of St. George, and our eastward voyage was a sort of triumphal
procession. This was all very pleasant, but 'twas dallying with
danger. The Spaniards were acquainted with our doings--the captains of
the rifled ships would tell them so much; and some of us argued that if
every petty Indian chief knew exactly where to meet us, then assuredly
the Dons must be aware of our route also. However, 'tis hard to make
victors cautious. We had a hearty contempt for the Spaniards in
Panama, and did not give them credit for pluck enough to follow us. So
we journeyed along in a fool's paradise, surrounded by admiring
Indians, and so laden with booty and presents that we could only move
at a snail's pace.
"One day a native runner came to us from a friendly village with the
news that a force of a hundred Spaniards, well armed, was in pursuit.
The Indians were eager for us to stay and meet the Dons, promising us
help if we would do so. Oxenham decided he had done enough for glory
just then, and thought it wiser to get back to his ship and sail for
home; our spoil was too precious to be risked, and was a tempting bait
to any foe. We set out at once. Coming to a place where two streams
entered the main river, we took the smallest waterway, hoping thus to
baffle pursuit, for our real path lay along the main stream. Our ruse
would have succeeded but for a trivial oversight. The Dons came to the
parting of the ways, and were nonplussed as to our route. They had
decided to follow the main stream, and were seated in their canoes
ready to resume the pursuit, when a bunch of plucked feathers came down
the smallest stream. Within ten minutes other feathers came floating
along, and some were bloodstained. They rightly guessed that these
were evidence that we had prepared food somewhere higher up. Boats
were forsaken, and a march through the forest commenced. That very
night they surprised us. We fought well, and our Indian friends proved
no cowards. Fifty of us, fairly well laden with gold, got away, and
after a toilsome march reached the place where our ship had been
hidden--only to find it gone!
"We hunted the creek on both sides, and found unmistakable signs that
the Dons had found our vessel and confiscated it. Why they did not lie
in ambush for us we could not imagine. Maybe they thought us
effectually trapped, and likely to be an easy prey to fever, or to
their attack after fever had had its way with us. For a while we were
in despair; then we remembered old England, and what she expects of her
sons. We buried our gold, felled trees, and began to build canoes.
But the side of the creek at night was a death-trap. Heavy foetid
mists wreathed up from the waters, poisoning the air; noxious insects
hummed about our couches, and loathly reptiles crawled out of the mud
and chilled our hearts with their horrible croakings. One by one we
sickened; in ones, twos, threes we died. Then the cunning Dons came in
force. They were five to our one, and we trembling with fever. We
fought as well as we could. Many fell fighting; others, too weak to
stand to deliver a stout blow, were taken as prisoners: we three were
amongst these. Our captors cured us of the fever, then handed us over
to the priests at Vera Cruz. A year we spent in prison. We have been
on the rack; the thumbscrews bereft us of thumbs, for they crushed them
so badly that we were fain to have them off, fearing the arm might
mortify. The villains cropped us of one ear, so that they might track
us if we chanced to escape. By the mercy of God we did escape, and,
despite the mark set upon us, avoided recapture and found our way back
to Plymouth. What perils we passed through in swamp and forest, by
river and sea, ere we found an English ship I cannot now set forth.
Let it suffice that we are here, alive and eager for further
opportunities on the isthmus."
"How do you propose to get there?" asked Jeffreys.
"We would see thy master, Sir Walter, and get him to fit a ship. There
is gold enough buried by the creek banks to repay him or any other man."
Jeffreys shook his head. "Sir Walter's eyes are turned farther south.
He would find 'El Dorado.'"