JOHN OXENHAM'S CREEK.
More than two months after she had quitted the harbour of San Joseph, the
_Golden Boar_ dropped anchor in its waters again. She was not expected,
and some folks were hoping that she had gone to the bottom of the
Atlantic, or was lying rotting in some pestilential mouth of the Orinoco.
Yacamo was put ashore, and a brief visit paid to the governor and the
chief Ayatlan. The latter was pleased enough to see the Englishmen, and
he warned them that mischief was brewing.
"There has been much coming and going of Spaniards and Spanish ships," he
said; "and one man has offered great rewards to any that could tell him
where you were hidden."
The visit to the governor nearly led to a quarrel. That dignitary was by
no means so deferential as on the previous visit; indeed, he was barely
civil. Many things had happened during the previous weeks. A ship had
arrived from Spain, and she carried an important passenger--to wit,
Brother Basil. He was weeks behind the _Golden Boar_, but he soon made
up for lost time. In the first place he was able to prove that Captain
John Drake of the _Golden Boar_ was not the redoubtable Captain Francis
Drake so dreaded all along the shores of the Spanish Main. This largely
accounted for the altered demeanour of the governor. Rightly guessing
that the English ship would put into the harbour if she ever returned
from the Orinoco, Basil had at first tried to prepare a warm reception
for her. He failed in this, for soldiers were not easy to obtain, the
governor was not anxious for a fight, and the very name "Drake" still
inspired terror whether it was prefixed by Francis or John. As a second
resource he had sent boats into the delta in the hope of locating the
ship or her company, and stirring up the natives against the Englishmen.
His messengers searched the wrong mouths and channels, and it was only at
the last that one of them happed upon the foe; and he was still on the
mainland and had sent no tidings.
But the Jesuit, being cognizant of all the plans of the adventurers, and
knowing that the Johnsons would lead the way to the scene of Oxenham's
defeat and death, prepared yet a third scheme, and, deeming this the
surer one, was giving it his personal supervision. He calculated
correctly.
When Captain Drake and his retinue were leaving the castle, a native
youth who waited upon the soldiers slipped a packet into the hands of the
last man, with a whispered injunction to secrecy. The soldier handed the
papers to the captain as soon as he was aboard again. A few minutes
later Nick and Ned Johnson were sent for into the cabin. The first
question caused each one to prick up his single ear pretty sharply.
"Were you the only ones who escaped death when Captain Oxenham was slain?"
"No, some boys were spared."
"Have they ever reached England?"
"As far as we know, no. The priests told us that some of them abjured
their faith and had received pardon."
Captain Drake passed some papers across the table. "Look at this
drawing."
The brothers did so, and looked at one another pretty shrewdly also.
"What do you make out of it?"
"'Tis a guide to the buried spoil."
The skipper read a rough, explanatory scrawl from the back of the paper.
It purported to have been written by one of the lads who had been in San
Joseph on a Spanish ship since the departure of the _Golden Boar_. He
explained that he wished his countrymen to know that the treasure had
never been found by the Dons, and added that he had bribed the native to
give the paper to them if they came back. He would not affix his name,
because he was ashamed of his weakness in renouncing his faith and
nationality.
The tale was plausible enough and cunningly set forth. Less credulous
men than the eager adventurers would have been deceived by it. The
English was rough, homely, ill-spelt, and unscholarly, and might well
have been written by one of the lads. One thing was certain--it could
not have been written by a Spaniard. It was written, indeed, by the
renegade Basil.
Needless to say the bait was swallowed. The _Golden Boar_ made a hurried
departure from San Joseph, and went westwards along the coast towards the
Isthmus of Panama. Basil had gone thither in a Spanish galleon some
twelve days before, and was already ashore awaiting them, and daily
expecting a strong body of troops from Panama itself. The adventurers,
hopes renewed, were putting on all sail to enter a cunningly laid trap.
Apparently fortune was going to favour them at last. Less than a day's
sail from Trinidad they sighted a Spanish ship. They had vowed war
against everything Spanish, and were resolved not to go home with an
empty hold. The helm was put about, and they bore down on their prey.
The vessel was not a large one, but it was well manned. To the order to
strike his flag, the captain replied with a well-directed shot. The
vessels closed. A sharp fight ensued, and the adventurers won. The
prize was a good one, and the bold band, deeming their enterprise a high
and honourable one, loudly thanked God for His goodness. Then they
sailed on, eager for fresh conquests.
Even the least hopeful man cast away his doubts and fears. Hitherto they
had searched for what no man had found; now they were going for a
treasure whose position was definitely set forth, and, moreover, they
were on the beaten track where so many of their daring fellow-countrymen
had found fortune. Spanish ships they must meet; and when they met them,
well, there was but one thing to do--they must capture them. To their
reawakened spirits the matter was the plainest of plain sailing. And the
glorious sea, too, had washed the fever from them; they were grown strong
and hearty once more. The singers sang, the fiddlers played, and Master
Jeffreys, Nick and Ned Johnson told their tales afresh. The generous
fellows remembered the brave lives that had been sacrificed to gain the
treasure they were going to carry off so easily. As far as the memory of
the survivors would allow, a list of Oxenham's crew was drawn up; their
homes, where known, were placed against their names, and it was resolved
that half of what they recovered should go to the relatives of the dead
men. Not one man murmured against the decision; it seemed to them the
right and proper thing to do: there were no craven or selfish hearts
aboard the _Golden Boar_.
And so the eager days sped on. No more possible prizes were sighted, and
the time came when keen eyes no longer looked seawards at all. The ship
was hugging the shore, and Nick Johnson or his brother spent hours at the
masthead searching for a familiar landmark. More than once was the
anchor dropped, and a boat sent up a promising creek in the hope that it
would prove the long-sought one. Failure after failure was reported, but
the search only grew the keener. The adventurers were determined to beat
every mile of the coast if necessary. At length came the joyous forenoon
when Nick gave a frantic hurrah from his lofty perch. Ho had sighted the
bare bluff, the wooded background, and the narrow, winding inlet. His
brother was quickly beside him, and almost immediately shouted his
reassuring opinion to the expectant company. The goal was reached at
last!
There was no need to send an exploring boat this time. Nick stayed where
he was, and Ned took the helm. A gentle breeze took the _Golden Boar_
into the sheltered anchorage. The trees encircling the little inland bay
shut her in just as the sun went down behind them. And the gallant
fellows--strange mixture of pirate and patriot--piously and
whole-heartedly bared their heads and thanked God for His bounteous
mercies!