CAPTIVES.
The wonderful name of Drake saved the expedition from irretrievable
disaster. "For England, boys!" Sir John had shouted as he laid about
him in the mangrove trees. "For Drake and Devon!" shouted a Plymouth
tar, and his comrades had hurrahed at his words. "Ay, remember the
skipper's name!" Sir John had replied; "defeat and Drake don't go
together!" These shouted words, and the promptness of the round shot
from the ship, had really equal effects in scattering the foe. The
Spanish commander, when he rallied his men farther back at the springs,
asked Nick Johnson who his captain was.
"Drake of Plymouth!" cried Nick; "and take heed to it, ye dirty Papist.
Ye'll regret this business before sunset!"
And the soldiers were of their foeman's opinion. Their leader deemed
discretion the better part of valour. He had lost some men; his allies
had fled; five prisoners were in his hands. So far he could claim a
victory, and he was resolved not to lose one leaf from his scanty
laurels. "Drake" was an incarnation of the devil; every Don in America
knew that; it was useless fighting the redoubtable sailor, for no man
could defeat or kill him. The Spanish captain decided on a movement to
the rear. In vain Basil stormed and raved, and vowed that the dreaded
Drake was not within a thousand leagues of the isthmus. The soldiers
remembered that the speaker was a renegade Englishman, and refused to
believe him.
Basil left them to go on to Panama, whilst he returned to the Indian
camp and the two prisoners whose clever capture he had superintended.
The Indians had gone, and Morgan and Jeffreys were left gagged and
bound. The Jesuit was furious. His first impulse was to kill his
captives and leave their bodies to be found by their companions, who
would assuredly make some search for them. But a moment's reflection
made him abandon that plan. Had he desired only their death, it would
have been easier for the Indians to shoot them than to capture them.
One of the two, Morgan, was an old foe; he had done much to thwart the
scheme for firing the Forest of Dean, a scheme which would have brought
Basil nothing less than a bishopric had it succeeded. He was one of
those who had slain Father Jerome, and must expiate his many offences.
The angry man had little objection to letting out Master Timothy's life
at a blow, but Morgan must have no such easy ending. So he left the
two, half-stifled in their blankets, and went into the woods and along
the creek, calling in the hope of attracting some stray Indians. After
a while, the chief and about a dozen others straggled back.
The tent, wherein Basil had kept up state in order to overawe the
simple natives, was packed away into a canoe. The prisoners were put
into another, and the company paddled away towards the interior,
following by water the course the Spaniards had taken by land.
The two parties met that evening at a native village, and a fierce
quarrel broke out betwixt Basil and the Spanish commandant. The
civilian accused the soldier of cowardice and indifference that
amounted to treachery, and fiercely maintained that a little more
wisdom and courage on the part of the troops would have sufficed for
the capture of the whole expedition. The captain retorted that he had
done his duty with due zeal and discretion, and threatened Basil with a
share of the bonds that bound the limbs of his fellow Englishmen. He
took Basil's two prisoners and added them to his own captures,
asserting that he did so in order to ensure their safe keeping. By
easy stages the troops moved west by north along the rivers and over
the mountains to Panama, where the Englishmen were formally imprisoned
as pirates and wicked enemies of his Majesty King Philip. Basil was
soon busily at work in an endeavour to get them accused of heresy
rather than piracy, and so put them into the hands of the Inquisition;
for the ecclesiastics punished with infinitely greater cruelties than
did the King's officers.
A long and anxious council was held that afternoon aboard the _Golden
Boar_. For the time, the treasure-hunt was forgotten. Seven members
of the company, two of them gentlemen partners in the expedition, were
in the hands of the Spaniards. What could be done for their release?
From the evidence of those of the watering-party that had escaped, it
was plain that the band that had attacked them was as numerous as that
which attacked the gold-seekers. The total forces, Spanish and Indian,
were considerably over a thousand. Now, if the ship was to be at all
adequately guarded and manned, Captain Drake could not spare more than
a score of men as a land force. Obviously, this was totally inadequate
if the foe stood his ground; so weak a band might be shot down one by
one in the forest. Yet no man would leave the coast without making
some real effort to aid his captured comrades. The brave fellows could
readily put themselves in thought into the places of the unfortunate
seven, and they shuddered as they contemplated their possible fate.
One man, Paignton Rob, knew Oxenham's route across the isthmus, and he
volunteered at once to lead any pursuing party. Should the Johnsons
escape, they would almost certainly take this route back. Pursuit was
decided upon, and Captain Drake resolved to lead it himself. The whole
of the gentlemen adventurers volunteered to accompany him, and Dan
Pengelly and Paignton Rob completed the available force. It was small
enough to be called a "forlorn hope;" it was brave enough to do
desperate deeds if occasion offered.
Since the retreat of the foe no sounds had been heard from the shore.
This did not prove that no enemies were lurking in the thickets, for
silence had prevailed until the moment of the double attack. Rob
offered to go scouting, but his services as guide were too precious for
him to run the risk; and Sir John Trelawny, like the valiant knight he
was, went instead. A boat was rowed down into the shelter of the
bluff, and he slipped ashore. Scaling the rock, he peered about on all
sides, saw nothing suspicious, and advanced into the thick woods.
There were plenty signs of the fray, but no sight of a foe. He wound
round one side of the curve of the bay, and startled nothing but the
birds and a few reptiles. He came down to the water, hailed the ship,
and was taken aboard. The captain resolved to start up the creek at
nightfall and follow its course into the river.
This was done. Signs of Basil's camp were discovered, and his bivouac
searched. Morgan's helmet was found; the pursuers were on the track.
A hunt in the near woods revealed nothing of note. Re-embarking they
reached an Indian village by midnight, and learned that the foe was
encamped at a larger place up the stream. Here was a chance of a night
assault. But neither bribes nor threats could prevail with any native
to accept the position as guide. The chief finally gave directions
which were either wilfully incorrect or misunderstood. The Englishmen,
on coming to a parting of the waters, took the wrong course, and found
themselves by daylight right in the hills and twenty miles from the
place where the captives lay.
They came back and took the other channel, arriving at the
halting-place about noon, to find the foe gone and themselves too weary
to follow for some hours. Rob and the captain interviewed the chief,
but the latter was too fearful of the Spaniards to offer any
assistance. The English force in his eyes was too weak to gain any
victory, and he would not be on the losing side.
The adventurers pushed forward again in the evening, abandoned their
boats, and took to the hills in the hope of cutting off the Spanish
retreat. They lost their bearings, and for a while were lost
themselves. The pursuit became hopeless, and was reluctantly abandoned.
The party returned to the ship. Nothing further was possible. With a
force ten times as great as the one he really commanded, Captain Drake
might have attempted a march on Panama itself, for the spirit of the
great admiral was strong in him.
Digging was resumed, and the labour was rewarded by the mocking
discovery of a heap of bones. It was plain to every one that the
company had been led into a cunningly prepared trap. In the heat of
their anger some were for sailing back to Trinidad and sacking San
Joseph. The skipper would hear of no such mad enterprise. He set sail
for the open sea, his heart full of two desires. He wanted to fall in
with some other English ships, and essay an attack on Panama. Failing
this, he hoped for the chance of meeting plenty of King Philip's
galleons. Large or small, he vowed to assail them and take a terrible
requital for his own misfortunes.
His latter hope was realized. He fell in with two ships in his passage
through the Indies, and attacked and pillaged both. Although shorn of
nearly half his strength by the time he reached the open Atlantic, yet
he made for the Azores and captured yet a third galleon, and fell in
with a fourth sailing for Panama itself. He boarded this, and gave the
captain a letter for the authorities of the isthmian port. In this he
declared his intention of paying the place a speedy visit with such a
force that he would level the town with the ground if a hair on the
head of any captive had been injured. 'Twas a proud, characteristic
boast, but it was never carried into effect.
Plymouth was duly reached. The _Golden Boar_ brought some goodly
treasure to port, many stories of wonderful lands, and a wealth of bad
news. There was mourning in Plymouth. And Paignton Rob--weeks
after--sat moist-eyed in a cottage at Newnham listening to a maiden's
sobs.