A WOMAN’S WILE.
“What news?” demanded Grace O’Malley.
Repeating Tibbot’s words to her, I asked what her commands were.
“This afternoon while you slept, Ruari,” she replied, “the idea of a
certain artifice or stratagem came into my mind, and the darkness of
the night is so much in favour of its successful issue that there is
no reason why it should not be attempted. It was suggested to me as I
went over the stores of the galleon by the quantities of all manner of
garments on board of her----”
So had spoken very rapidly, being conscious that with the galleons not
far away there was no time to spare.
“Enough, at present,” she continued. “I will tell you more of it when I
have made a disposition of our ships.”
“The prisoners?” I questioned. “They can scarcely be expected to
join us in an attack on Spanish ships--even although these ships are
in reality more the property of the merchants of Galway than of any
others.”
“Transfer them,” said she, “to _The Cross of Blood_, which I shall
leave here under Calvagh’s charge. When you have seen them safely in
his hands come to me--I shall be on the _Capitana_.”
“The _Capitana_!” I exclaimed, surprised.
“Yes,” said she. “In a little while you will see why I say the
_Capitana_.”
I hurried off into the cabin, and telling Don Francisco and Fitzgerald
that they were to be put for the night aboard of my galley, and having
whispered to Eva that there was something in the wind, but that I knew
not quite what it was, I conducted the two men to _The Cross of Blood_,
and delivered them over to Calvagh, bidding him keep a close guard
over them. Then I got into a boat, and in a trice was on the Spanish
galleon’s deck.
Just as I reached it the clouds drifted from off the face of the moon,
and as I looked up around me I could scarcely believe my eyes at what
I saw. Pausing not to think, I placed my hand upon my sword, and had
pulled it half-way out of its sheath, when a voice which I recognised
as Tibbot the Pilot’s, sang out close to my ear, while there was a
splutter of laughter in his throat, as he said--
“’Tis a wise man who sometimes doubts his seeing aright, Ruari
Macdonald. Know you not your friends from your foes?”
Tibbot, I perceived, was not attired in the Irish fashion, but had
discarded his saffron mantle and his long, wide-sleeved jacket, and had
replaced them by a sober Spanish suit, under which, one might be sure,
was a shirt of mail.
And now I noticed that the sailors who moved about us, getting the
galleon ready for sea, were no more our own wild kernes of Mayo, but
all mariners of Spain!
“Tibbot,” said I, “what is the meaning of this? Wherefore is this
mummery?”
“’Tis by our mistress’s order,” said he, “and ’tis herself will have
good reason for it, I’m thinking.” And his cheeks creased with laughter.
Grace O’Malley had said something of a stratagem,--was this it? One
quicker of apprehension than myself would have seen what her intentions
were, but I had to go and ask her for an explanation.
And, lo, on the poop deck, where a few hours before there had been so
great a struggle, I found not my mistress, but a youthful, handsome,
smiling, debonair knight of Spain, who yet had the eyes and the accents
of our princess! By her side there stood the captain of the _Capitana_,
risen from the dead--or such a passable imitation of him in face and
figure as might well have deceived the living.
I stared stupidly at them both,--and then I understood. For the nonce,
we were no longer O’Malleys or other free Irish rovers of the sea, but
dons and señors--if you please,--soldiers and sailors under the flag
of Spain; the _Capitana_ for the time being had not been taken, but
was still bound in all security for the port of Galway--only haply,
that being stayed by storms, she had taken shelter behind the island of
Arran, from which she would presently emerge to meet the other galleons
as they came up.
And then--the thing was plain enough.
A woman’s wit is a wonderful thing, and well is it for us men that the
loves and the hates of women do dim the brightness of it, else would we
be dazzled and blind and dumb all our days, and our strength be but a
vain thing.
“What think you of my plot?” said the young gentleman adventurer, this
Spanish knight, who was my mistress.
“You are a great magician, señor!” said I, taking her humour. “And what
would you with this Ruari Macdonald--once the sworn servant of an Irish
princess, known as Grace O’Malley?”
“By my faith,” cried she, “I would not have him changed for all the
world.”
And the words were dear to me, so that my heart glowed within me--even
as it does now at the memory of them.
Then she spoke to me with some fulness of the snare she was preparing
for the two galleons, now beating up towards the Sound.
It was the case, no doubt, said she, that the five ships of the wine
fleet had been scattered over the western seas by the storm, but those
Tibbot had seen had managed to keep by each other or had come together
again, and were travelling as slowly as possible, with a view to
picking up their companion vessel, and, further, that their sailing
powers would most probably have been reduced by the damage wrought upon
them by the tempest.
Her purpose was to stand off and on in the Sound, manœuvring the
_Capitana_ in such a way as to indicate that she had also suffered
from the violence of the weather; to allow the ships to come up within
near hail of her--which they would be certain to do, as they could have
no suspicion of what had befallen the _Capitana_, especially as they
would be able to see nothing strange in the appearance of the galleon
or in the dress of those on board of her--and then to trust to the
chances of the hour for the rest.
When I raised the objection that this plot of hers necessitated the
absence of the galleys from the attack, she replied that no more than a
bare guard had been left on board of them, and that she had as many as
eighty men out of them, and had placed them on the _Capitana_, a number
which she thought more than sufficient for the enterprise.
“If all goes well,” said she, “I will myself lead the assault on the
first ship, and Tibbot on the other--if they have to be fought together
at the same time; do you remain on the _Capitana_, for she must be seen
to by one who is a seaman, and much may depend on the way in which she
is managed. Besides, you must still be weary of the fight of a few
hours ago. But circumstances will guide us.”
“Surely,” said I, “there is no need for you to expose yourself, and my
fatigue is gone.”
“Nay, nay!” said she, “let the thing stand.”
The anchor was gotten up, and out beyond the point of Trawkeera went
the ship, the moon now shining more clearly, and the stars showing here
and there like diamonds through a scarf of clouds. And there, not more
than a mile away, loomed up the two galleons for which we were on the
watch.
The wind was light, and the sails of the galleon, which was the nearer
of the two to us, showed up in grey shadows against the velvety black
of the sky. She was of the usual build of the merchant ship of Cadiz,
with the same lumbering breadth, the same high castles at poop and
bows, and the same rig in every respect as had that which we had
captured, and was of much the same size. Some distance behind her was
her companion, and the two vessels were so much alike that the second
appeared to be the double of the first.
As soon as we were within view, a lantern was waved three times towards
us from the bows of the leading ship--a signal to which we responded by
also waving a lantern three times, surmising that some such answering
sign would be expected back in return.
We waited with an anxious curiosity to see how this would be taken, and
as we saw the dark figures of the watch hurrying, in evident alarm, to
the bulwarks to gaze at us, and heard their voices raised in discussion
coming faintly across the waters, we could not fail to understand that
some other token had been looked for.
In their perplexity they knew not what to make of us, and we could
see plainly enough that there was an argument going on among them
in respect of us. As the distance between us slowly lessened, their
uncertainty and indecision were increased when they beheld, as we took
excellent care they should, a few of the O’Malleys standing on the
fore-deck of the _Capitana_. Even had it been as bright as day, they
could not have imagined that they were other than Spanish sailors like
themselves.
Our men had been ordered to remain quite still and silent, and under
the moon, over which a web of cloud was being spun, they appeared like
figures carved out of stone.
The watchman on the bows of the galleon hailed us, and though his
voice sounded clearly to us, we pretended not to hear; he called again
through the quiet of the night, and when we returned no answer we could
see that he ran with a sort of terror of he knew not what from his
place, and was lost in the darkness of the forecastle.
In the meantime we had come close up to her, her sailors bending
blanched, fear-stricken faces over her bulwarks upon us, and perhaps
thinking that they saw before them the fabulous _Ship of Death_, upon
which for ever sail the souls of those foully murdered on the sea, and
which for the nonce had taken on the form of the _Capitana_ to lure
them to their doom, for never might human eyes behold that dreaded
sight and live.
The two ships were now so near each other that it required but a
touch of the helm and the quick ringing word of command from Grace
O’Malley--the statues sprang to life, and a host of the O’Malleys
jumped on board the galleon at different points.
It was all the work of a twinkling, so soon was the ship carried. The
watch on deck were overpowered and made prisoners with scarcely a
blow being struck. Tibbot crept through a window in the poop of the
Spaniard, and, followed by a dozen of the Irish, had secured those who
were asleep or half-awakened before they could make any resistance. In
the forecastle alone was there any struggle, for there a handful of men
stood to their weapons, and, refusing quarter, fought on till everyone
of them was slain.
I had watched with straining eyes through the gloom for the form
of that young Spanish knight who was my mistress, and, not seeing
it anywhere, was in sore dismay; not many minutes, however, went
by--the action had moved with the speed with which things change in a
dream--when she appeared on the poop, as I thought.
Nor was I mistaken, for she called to me to trim the _Capitana_ and to
wear down upon the other galleon, which had changed her course, and was
striving to make off southwards for the open sea. Her watch had given
the alarm, and we could see the dark bodies of her crew and of her
fighting men making to their posts.
Sending back to me some of our Irish for the better working of the
_Capitana_, she caused the newly-captured vessel to be released from
the grapplings and fastenings, by which I had had her bound to us
while the attack was going on, and we swung apart. Crowding on sail in
hot haste, we put about, and went in pursuit of the fleeing galleon,
which not only had the start of us, but now also appeared to be a
better sailer than either of us, as we did not gain on her, but, on the
contrary, rather fell back.
It was apparent that she would escape us if we were to trust to our
sailing powers alone. I had just determined to train one of the cannon
on board the _Capitana_ on to her, when a loud explosion shook the air.
Of what had occurred, then and afterwards on the _Santa Ana_, as the
ship Grace O’Malley had just taken was named, I was not a witness, nor
was Tibbot, who told me of it, either; but it is narrated here just as
I heard it.
Seeing that there was a likelihood of the galleon, to which we were
giving chase, showing us a clean pair of heels, she ordered Tibbot to
the helm of the _Santa Ana_, and, telling him of what she intended, she
herself went among the prisoners, who were lying bound in different
parts of the ship.
Among them she found divers persons who understood the Irish tongue,
and them, by both promises and threats, she compelled to bring before
her the master of the ordnance and those who assisted him in loading
and firing the cannon. Surrounding these men with her own, each of whom
had sword, spear, or battle-axe ready in his hand, she marched them to
the forecastle and forced them, on pain of instant death, to serve the
two great cannon which were in the bow-ports. The first discharge of
these was the explosion I had heard.
The balls from these pieces were so ineffective, passing wide of the
mark and splashing into the sea a considerable distance from the
galleon, that her anger was kindled, and she warned the master of the
ordnance that if he were not more successful on a second attempt she
would not spare him, being assured that he was merely trifling with her.
Whether it was because of the terrifying effect of her words, or
because he was determined to give the galleon every opportunity for
getting away from us, and was reckless of what became of himself, the
succeeding shots flew as wide as before. When Grace O’Malley perceived
this she was transported with rage, and, crying that he had brought his
fate upon his own head, ran him through with her sword.
Had she not quickly interfered, all his companions would have been
instantly despatched by the Irish, who were eager to emulate the
example she had set them.
Aghast at the death of the master of the ordnance, and suspecting that
there was no hope of anything else for themselves, they cried out
sharply, breathlessly, tremblingly, each protesting and vowing by all
the saints that he would undertake to do whatever he was bid, if only
his life were promised him.
Seeing from their look that they were likely to do as they said, but
fearing lest they should be unstrung, being so wrought upon by their
terror, she agreed that they should not be slain, but commanded
them to chose from out of their number him who was the most skilful
cannoneer, so that there should be no mistake in regard to the fit
service of the ordnance. At the same time she told them that all their
lives depended on him, for if he failed at the next discharge to damage
the galleon, not only would he be immediately killed, but that all of
them would likewise suffer instant death.
They chattered for a second together, and then one of them, perhaps
bolder or more desperate than the rest, stepped forward, and accepted
her offer.
Having warned him again, Grace O’Malley had the guns loaded once more,
and stood over the man with drawn sword as he applied the burning match
to the touch-hole of first one cannon and then of the other. When the
smoke had cleared away, it was seen that the mainmast of the galleon
had been shot through and had fallen over, so that it lay partly across
her waist and partly was in the water.
Thus impeded, the galleon almost at once lost her sea-way, and both
the _Santa Ana_ and the _Capitana_ began rapidly to come up with her.
Meanwhile shouts and shrieks resounded from her decks; her sailors ran
about in fear and confusion, but after awhile they appeared to be got
into some kind of order, and, as a ball from her boomed across our
bows, it was evident that her captain was resolved to fight for his
ship.
As our vessels approached, we received a broadside from her which
did us both no little harm, especially to our hulls and rigging,
and a shot tore along the forecastle of the _Capitana_ in an oblique
direction, killing two of my crew and wounding three or four men before
it plunged into the sea.
But it was impossible for her to prevent us from coming up alongside
of her, and so soon as we had made ourselves fast to her our boarders
poured in upon her. And thereupon ensued a battle not more terrible
than obstinate, while the faint streaks of a cold and troubled dawn
stole upon us, shedding its gleams on the dead and dying as they lay in
pools of blood upon her decks.
No quarter was asked or given. Whom the sword or the battle-axe or
the spear smote not, him the sea received, for many of the Spaniards,
crying that all was lost, threw themselves from the galleon into the
water and were drowned. There remained, however, towards the end of
the fight a small company of arquebusiers and swordsmen upon the poop,
and among them was the captain of the ship, his clothing stained and
disordered, and a great, red sword in his hand.
Seeing that no hope remained, he made signs that he wished to
surrender, and begged that his life and the lives of those with him
might be spared, to which Grace O’Malley straightway assented.
As he walked towards her with his sword in his hand, with the purpose
apparently of presenting it to her in token of his submission, he
seemed to stumble on the planks, which were slippery with blood, and
then, suddenly recovering himself, he made a mad, swift rush forward,
and would have wounded, perhaps killed, my mistress if his intention
had not been guessed by Tibbot, who in the very nick of time dashed
aside the point of the captain’s sword and brained him with his
battle-axe.
So incensed were the Irish at this act of treachery that they would
show no mercy, and not a soul was left alive.
Thus was the _San Miguel_, as she proved herself to be, taken.
Our first care now was to return to Inisheer, so the three galleons
were trimmed as well as was within our power, and our course was shaped
for the island, where our three galleys lay, and which was reached in
due time without our seeing any more ships of the wine fleet.
And here we remained, among the islands of Arran, for several days,
waiting for the other two galleons of which we had heard; but as they
did not come into sight, we conjectured that they had either put into
some port in another part of Ireland or had been driven on the rocks
and wrecked.
Then we bore northwards with the Spanish galleons and our three galleys
to a sequestered bay on the coast of Iar-Connaught, where we concealed
in caves and other secret places well known to us a portion of the
great treasure and of the rich stores that had been found in the
merchant ships. Some of their ordnance was put on board the galleys and
the rest cast into the sea.
As for the galleons themselves, they were steered within a mile of the
harbour of Galway, in full view of its walls, set on fire, and then
sent adrift, blazing, in the bay; while the prisoners, all save Don de
Vilela and Fitzgerald, were landed on the coast, and left to make the
best of their way to the city, where on their arrival they published
abroad all that Grace O’Malley had done.
And I have not wit enough to describe the amazement and anger of Sir
Nicholas, nor the disappointment and vexation of the merchants at the
losses they had sustained through the destruction of the wine fleet.
But homeward to Clew Bay we sailed, and little cared we.