A Race for the Ocean
Alvarez de Logas was spellbound. The highest flight of his imagination
had never conjured up such a scene, such vast wealth as was displayed in
the treasure chamber. He stood aghast, more perturbed by the sight of so
much gold and so many jewels, than he had been at the thought of losing
even a portion of the riches to be gained by coming to Mexico. He stood
rooted to the spot, now inclined to fling himself upon the gems which
sparkled in the light which came through the apertures in the walls, and
a moment later scarcely resisting the inclination to rush upon the
massive golden vessels with the shining orbs set into their sides. His
hand went to his head, and he lifted his steel cap, while the fingers of
his other hand passed through the wisp of hair which clung to his scalp.
"The treasure! At last the treasure!" he gasped. "Riches enough to make
me the highest noble in all Spain, wealthier even than the king. Here is
comfort for my old age, and honour, honour such as comes not even to men
like Fernando Cortes, for wealth brings everything in its train. I will
take the gems alone, for those I can carry. But no! I cannot leave the
gold. To do so would be a sin. I have bearers in plenty. All shall be
mine!"
The sound of his voice startled him, for in his excitement he raised his
tones almost to a shriek. But now he was frightened. The old fears
returned to him, and he stared back at the door, and then ran to it,
peering through the narrow opening into the chamber beyond, where the
guards stood, listening to the shrieks of the unfortunate Mexicans
below, and to the triumphal shouts of the native allies as they
slaughtered the unhappy people. They showed on their faces that they
longed to be gone, while the scarlet-cloaked priest also looked steadily
to the door, as if he were also listening and expecting something. A
suspicion crossed the mind of Alvarez. He looked sharply at his captive,
who had read the secret of the disc for him. Then his eye went back to
the treasure, and that conquered. The sight of the glittering gems and
of the piled-up gold drove all fear and suspicion from his mind. He
recollected nothing beside the fact that he was actually in the
treasure-house, wading in the riches for which he had sought so long,
for which he had plotted and schemed, and for which he had not hesitated
to risk his own life and to attempt to take that of another. Every night
he had dreamed of this great day, and now--
"Mine!" he shouted. "All mine! I will look round. I will touch the
wealth, and then I will devise how to take it away."
He fell on his knees beside the gems, and let them trickle through his
fingers. He picked out the largest and the finest stones, held them to
the light, and set them aside. Then he poured handful after handful
within his cotton-padded jerkin.
"A fortune within my shirt!" he chuckled. "A fortune with which to buy
position and power, even should the other treasure fail to come to hand.
And now for the other riches."
He crawled on hands and knees round the chamber, oblivious of all that
was passing outside, unmindful of the awful slaughter then taking place,
and deaf to the shouts of the combatants and to the thunder of the guns.
"Gold! Gold and gems! Riches! Power! Honour in his native land. Pride of
family, where he had had none!" These words alone rang in his ears. He
was intoxicated with success, and if he had reared golden castles in the
air on former occasions since he had stolen the famous disc, they were
studded with brilliants this time. They towered to the very heavens, and
on every battlement and arch glittering flags blew out with those same
words embroidered upon them. "Riches! Power beyond all the dreams of a
rapacious avarice! Plenty for the future! No toil! But power! A position
of command in place of the humble post he had filled in former days!
Wealth sufficient to make him the friend and intimate of nobles and
king!"
What wonder if this Spanish soldier went crazy at the astounding wealth
set out at his feet! What wonder that he forgot the siege of Mexico,
forgot in this supreme moment all his caution, the scheming and the
cunning which he had been so careful to practise. All through he had
thrown dust in the eyes of his comrades, just as he had deceived the
English aboard the brigantine. Not once in his waking conscious moments
had he let fall a syllable of his great secret. He had waited, silent
and watchful, for the end of the siege, and only once had his caution
been relaxed. He had been tried, and the native pulque pleased his
palate. He had drunk deeply, and, roused by the potent drink, had
whispered something which had aroused a suspicion, for it is only dead
men who tell no tales. Alvarez in his cups was a live man, robbed of
caution for the moment, and that moment was destined to be his ruin;
for, outside, creeping up the stairway of the tower, came a Spaniard,
that one who had overheard his drunken words. He followed his comrade,
having gained news of his whereabouts. But he knew nothing of Roger,
though, in a little while, when he rounded the next curve, and ascended
a few more steps, the figure of the crouching giant would come into
view.
Tap! Something fell on the tiled pavement on the summit of the tower,
and Roger raised his head and started at the sound. His head shot up
above the vase, and he peeped out.
"A crossbow bolt here!" he said to himself in astonishment. "And it is
of our own manufacture. I can tell that by the bright colour of the
feathers."
The sight caused him to think, and, for the moment, led his thoughts
away from the task he had in hand. He pondered, but famine had dulled
his wits. He was too weak to look further into a matter which could not
be of importance, and he was therefore in the act of crouching again
when a second bolt fell at his feet.
"A second! Then it must be a signal. Who can have fired it?"
He was at once alert, conscious that danger threatened from some unknown
quarter, and he promptly crept to the edge of the tower and looked over.
There was a figure crouching in the garden bushes below, a figure which
waved frantically to him. Then it started from its lair and staggered to
the steps, gesticulating, pointing to the side of the tower.
"Tamba!" exclaimed Roger. "The faithful fellow has shadowed me through
the siege, and has followed here, and he sees something wrong. Some one
may be following."
Quick as thought he ran across the square summit of the tower and hid
behind the altar, upon which, no doubt, many an unhappy wretch had been
sacrificed. But Roger had no time to think of that. His eyes were on the
top of the stairs, and they opened even wider with amazement as a second
Spaniard appeared, creeping stealthily, and peering ahead as if he
feared detection. This man was in his stockinged feet, and when he saw
that the summit was untenanted, he rose to the upright position and
raced across to the door through which Alvarez and the priest had gone.
He tore the curtain aside and looked in. Then he gave vent to a shout.
"Found! By our Lady, found!" he cried at the top of his voice. "The
silent, secret Alvarez is discovered by his friend, and will divide. I
see gold and jewels. Gold and stones enough for a score, and sufficient
for you and me. I am silent if you consent to a division, if not--"
The triumphant smile which his features had worn vanished, and he drew
his sword. Then he peered in at the wealth, and a crafty, covetous grin
caused the corners of his mouth to twitch.
"Why divide?" he said in low tones. "Why give half to a craven such as
he, when there is all for the man who can take it? I can beat him. I can
play him with my sword, and in these times tales do not pass."
He stood there a moment longer looking in at Alvarez, while the latter
stared at his one-time friend as if he were a ghost. Not yet had he been
able to tear his mind and thoughts away from the wealth in which he
stood; but the glint of the sword told him of danger, and that brought
him to his senses.
"Begone!" he growled. "This is mine! I found it. I slaved for the disc,
and risked my life, and I will not divide."
Then the voice of caution whispered to him, and he spoke again--
"Begone at once," he said huskily, "and for your silence I will give
sufficient to make you a man of wealth."
"Divide!" cried the intruder, advancing into the room.
"Never! It is mine. I will hold it with my sword."
Alvarez was now fully alive to his danger, and saw the threatening
attitude of the Spaniard. He drew his weapon briskly, and clambered
through the opening, his eyes fixed on the intruder. There was an ugly
scowl on his wizened face, while his teeth were set firmly. He had a
stake to fight for, as well as his life, and, as he clambered from the
treasure chamber, he was determined to win or die.
"Retire," he said sternly. "I will carry out my compact. Go at once, and
keep silent if you desire to be rich."
"I shall stay," was the answer. "You have found the gold. I shall take
it from you. Put up your sword and fight for its possession. If that is
not to your liking retire now and keep your tongue still, or I shall
have something to say. But I promise to give you enough to buy wealth in
Spain--wealth and a proud position."
There were no words after that. The full bitterness of his position came
to Alvarez with a shock, and if he had been nearly crazy a few minutes
before at the thought of the hoard which he had captured, he went
entirely mad now as the dreadful truth was forced upon his mind. He was
about to be robbed. Death were better than that. He raised his sword and
rushed on his enemy. Sparks flew from the steel, and Roger, who had now
crept to the door, heard the crash as the blades met. Then the intruder
was forced to give way. He retreated before the blind fury of Alvarez,
defending himself with difficulty. And soon they passed through the
door, tearing the curtain from its fastenings, and continued the contest
in the open air.
"Die!" shouted Alvarez, striking a frenzied blow. "Die, you rogue, who
thought to rob me!"
He took two hands to his sword and swung it over his head. Then he
brought the blade down with a crash which would have killed his opponent
had he not raised his own weapon to ward off the cut. The blades met
with a resounding crash, and then the Spanish steel gave way. Half
Alvarez's sword tinkled on to the pavement.
"The wealth is mine! The reward comes to me!" shouted his opponent.
He sprang at his enemy with a bound which carried him to close quarters.
And then, while the unfortunate Alvarez still stood looking at his
fractured blade, he drove his own weapon through his body.
"Die yourself!" shouted the Spaniard "Die, and so keep a silent tongue
for ever! I will take care of the treasure."
He looked at his victim, who lay dead already, and then swung round to
go into the treasure chamber. But the figure of the English giant stood
there, gaunt and unnaturally slim, hollow-cheeked and deadly pale, but
cool, calm, and collected, and wearing a smile as he handled his stout
English sword.
"The treasure is mine," said Roger, softly. "I held the disc for those
who sent me here, and this man stole it from me. It comes back to me,
and with it the treasure. Dispute my word if you dare."
The Spaniard was staggered. Just as Alvarez had stood rooted to the spot
at the sudden sight of the treasure, he remained staring at Roger,
hardly able to believe his eyes. Then he gave vent to a snarl of rage,
and gripped his sword.
[Illustration: "THE SPANIARD WAS STAGGERED"]
"You starved dog!" he said. "Dispute the word of a man who is already
more than half in his grave!"
He lifted his weapon over his shoulder, took in a deep breath, and made
ready to attack. But there were others watching, and before he could
stir a step there was a twang of a bow, and a shaft struck him full in
the chest. In an instant he was down on the tiles, struggling feebly,
and when Roger went to him and knelt at his side he found him just dead,
for Tamba's missile had done its work.
"He is dead," said Roger, as he rose to his feet, "and Alvarez has
received his just reward. There is nothing to keep me now from the
treasure if the priest has shown it. Stay outside, Tamba, and cut down
any of the natives who attempt to escape."
"None will do that," said the voice of the priest, as he emerged from
the chamber. "These men here, who are my enemies, dare not to touch you,
who are their god of air. You and the native are safe, and you have time
to pick and choose. Enter and select the gems; then let us go."
Roger understood him sufficiently well, for he had had some weeks'
intercourse with the Mexicans now, and had picked up their tongue. He
needed no second invitation, but plunged into the chamber, and from
there into the treasure-house. As in the case of Alvarez, his eyes gaped
with astonishment. But Roger had not set wealth before everything; and,
moreover, while coveting this treasure and hoping for the promised
reward, he had done so with the pure desire to do his duty by those at
home who had borne the expense of the expedition. When they were
satisfied he would take his share, and not before. But here was such an
abundance.
"Even King Hal has no wealth to compare with this," he cried. "There is
abundance for all here. Stones and gold, and the latter is heavy. I
shall leave it and take the stones."
"The curtain would make a sack, master, and there are the shirts of the
Spaniards," suddenly exclaimed Tamba, who had joined him. "Then there
are the linen jerkins of the natives."
"And the red robe of the priest," added Roger, "Quick! Let us call them
all in and get away."
He went to the narrow opening and beckoned to the priest, giving him the
necessary instructions. Then he set to work to select the finest gems,
choosing those which were largest, for he had no knowledge of the
correct colours.
"Here alone stands a fortune," he cried, as his eye lit upon the gems
set aside by the avaricious Alvarez. "All picked for me by the very man
who attempted to rob us of this spoil. Gather them together, Tamba, and
tie them in a corner of the curtain. I will select some of the gold
vessels, for they will convince those at home of the truth of our tale.
That is, should we have the fortune to return. Now, the curtain and the
shirts. Quick, for there is little time to waste."
"They are here, my lord. I will enter and help to hand them out. But
hark!"
"The horn!" Roger shouted, as the plaintive note which, on a former day,
had roused the Mexicans to fight for their king, came to his ear. "The
signal for all who are left to retreat to the landing-stage."
"And for us to go also, my lord. Quick! Gather the jewels and let us go,
otherwise we shall be killed, and then what service will this trash do
you?"
They worked as if every second were of the utmost value, as indeed it
was. The curtain was spread on the ground, and handfuls of gems tossed
in, while Tamba had already tied some of the largest into a corner.
Then Roger threw a few of the finest gold cups and bowls into the heap,
while the priest added the disc.
"Let the picture which holds the secret go too," he said bitterly. "Who
knows? In years to come it may be the only sample of our writing which
remains. It may outlive this fallen nation."
"Pick up the curtain," cried Roger, and in a moment Tamba had it on his
back, and was climbing through the opening. Then came the priest with
the shirt of the unfortunate Alvarez, while Roger followed with his own
jerkin well laden. They had as much now as they could well carry, and
the addition of another load, which was fetched by one of the natives,
completed their burden.
"To the stage," said Roger, shortly. "And, priest, can we trust these
men?"
"They will die rather than break their promise to me, or harm you," was
the answer. "You have the Spaniards alone to fear. Forward, and let us
get out of this awful city. The ruins strike grief into my mind. I would
that I had been killed at the commencement rather than live to see this
fair place levelled in ruins. Forward to the stage."
They staggered down the stairs, out through the garden, and then by a
little-known corridor through the palace. Then they had to traverse a
few streets before reaching the landing-stage. Thousands of natives were
about, but these took no notice of the party, seeing their comrades with
it. Soon the stage was in sight, and Roger gave vent to a cry of dismay.
"The Spaniards are there already," he said with a groan. "They will cut
us off. Look, they are bearing down with their swords and their pikes."
"Roger! Roger de Luce!"
A tall man, dressed in the native costume, but obviously one of the
Englishmen, stood on the very edge of the stage shouting for our hero.
Beside him lay one of the double canoes with a crew of rowers, while
farther off in the water street others lay on their oars, containing the
king and other nobles. But none would leave till the white cacique had
come. Philip stood there, port-fire in hand, shouting his name, while he
eyed the two cannon which had been captured early in the siege. Little
ammunition remained, and that had been carefully husbanded for the very
last occasion. Philip had trained the guns on that part by which the
Spaniards would approach, and he stood there, watching them as they ran,
prepared to fire at them, and so give his friend a few seconds more in
which to reach the boats.
"He is killed!" he shouted in despairing tones. "He must be dead, or he
would have come before. But I will not stir yet. Blow the horn again.
Sound another note, and let us see if that will not bring him."
"He is here already. See! He and his party come, and they have the
treasure."
It was Teotlili who caught him by the sleeve and drew his attention to
the approaching party. Then together they shouted to Roger and his
bearers to hasten. A minute later all but Philip were safely aboard the
canoe.
"The king?" gasped Roger, touching Teotlili's arm.
"He is there. All who are alive are aboard," was the answer. "Listen to
the last shot of the siege."
He pointed to Philip, and Roger raised his head, watching his friend as
he trained the weapons on the advancing Spaniards. He glanced along the
sights, blew at his port-fire, and then waited till a musket bullet sped
past his cheek. Then he touched the vents and leaped into the canoe.
"Row!" shouted Teotlili. "Row out into the lake!"
They pushed off as the cannon exploded, scattering a murderous charge of
stones amongst the Spaniards. Then the crew thrust their paddles into
the water and sent the craft along. Worn out though they were, and more
than half starved, they managed to summon sufficient strength for the
task, and very soon were out on the great lake. It was getting dusk, and
thanks to that, this canoe managed to reach the far shore without
attracting the attention of the enemy. And there they learned that the
king and a few of his nobles had been captured, while fourteen of the
Englishmen were gathered there in addition to Roger. Some thousands of
the Mexicans had also reached the shore, and stood there disconsolate.
"Scatter at once," called out Teotlili. "Make for the hills, and wait
there for news of the king. Do not stay here longer, for in the morning
the enemy will cover the plain. Now, my lord," he said, turning to
Roger. "What are your commands? You have served us faithfully, you and
your friends. The reward you have with you is far too mean, and too
small to repay you; for such as it is it is yours by right. Where will
you take it? There is no longer need for your arms in this unhappy
country."
"Then lead us to the coast," answered our hero. "Take us to Vera Cruz,
where we may be able to capture a vessel."
Without loss of time the noble gave the necessary orders, picking out a
number of men who had acted as the king's bodyguard, and who were in
fairly good condition. Then he placed a guide at the head, and bade the
whole lot advance. Two days later they came in sight of the Spanish town
of Vera Cruz, which had risen like a mushroom, as if in one night, the
labour being undertaken by the natives. There were ships in the
roadstead, and a spy reported that but few white men remained there to
guard the place, the remainder having gone to Mexico.
What need to tell more! Roger and his friends, though almost worn out,
made one last effort and captured the very brigantine in which they had
sailed from England. They embarked with their treasure, and two days
later put in at a creek some hundred miles down the coast, where, with
the help of friendly natives, they revictualled the ship as well as
possible, placing aboard sufficient fruits and herbs to last them for
some weeks. Then came the hour of parting. Tamba stood beside his
master, while Teotlili stepped into the canoe alongside.
He dared not look back once he had taken his farewell, and there were
tears in Roger's eyes at the parting.
Five weeks later the brigantine put in at the port of London, her crew
looking more like scarecrows than like British sailors. But they had
improved in condition during the voyage, thanks to two calls made during
their run along the northern coast of South America. But clothes they
had none to speak of, and so it was a day before they could venture from
the vessel. Then Roger, the acknowledged leader, with Philip beside him,
and Peter Tamworth bringing up the rear, and watching over Tamba and the
load he carried, made their way to the palace of King Henry.
The whole of England rang with the tale of their exploit, and Roger and
his comrades met with due honour. But little was said of the jewels and
the wealth, for it would have been unwise to rouse the ire of Spain.
Still, Roger had done good work for those who had organized the
expedition, and they did not forget. Our hero won fame and a knighthood
and sufficient wealth to permit of his buying a fine estate in the
country and a house in the city of London. And there Tamba went with
him; while Philip and Peter, now both men of means and consequence, came
often to speak of the old days, of the Spaniards, and of the one-time
fairy city of Mexico. Then they would fill their leathern jugs, to which
they still clung for the sake of old acquaintance, and would drink in
silence to those who were gone, to the gallant souls who had fought
beside them, and to those fine natives of Mexico who had struggled under
the leadership of Roger the Bold.
* * * * *
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