The rest of the day passed by like a long nightmare. The friar had us
removed to a small but strongly built hut, containing two rooms,
separated by a thin partition of hides nailed to a row of upright studs.
These were of squared timber, as was the floor also, and the outer frame
and wall-plate. The roof and sides were overlaid with thatch; and there
was no window, only a square opening in the roof which admitted the
light, and also let out the smoke when a fire was built upon the floor.
As dark came on, two young Indian girls entered the hut, where we sat,
bound, with our backs against the wall.
They seemed kindly disposed and gentle-mannered, for all their
outlandish garb, which consisted of a petticoat of long gray moss, and
strings of little shells and beads of divers colours festooned about the
neck.
They loosed Barbara and me, for which we were mightily grateful, as our
arms had grown numb and sore. We made signs that they should cut the
bonds of the men also, which they declined to do. Yet they touched us
with gentle hands, and stroked our shoulders in token of their good
will.
After this they brought wet clay and spread it upon the floor, and on
this laid a fire and kindled it; going forth again, they returned with
food and set it before us, making signs that we who were free should
feed the rest.
While I was serving my dear love--who made pitiable pretence of enjoying
my ministrations--the friar entered the hut, accompanied by two others
who were doubtless of mixed Spanish and Indian blood.
They bore with them heavy manacles and chains, which they fastened upon
our men, cutting the leathern thongs which had held them until now.
Mr. Rivers demanded to know by whose orders this was done.
"For it would seem our true jailers are not the Indians. These fetters
are of Spanish forging. Is it to your nation, padre, we are indebted for
this urgent hospitality?"
To this the friar made answer at great length, and what he said appeared
to enrage our men, who broke forth in a round volley of oaths as soon as
our jailers had left the hut. I turned to Mr. Rivers for explanation.
"'Tis as I supposed," he said, "and the friar is at the bottom of it
all. He maintains now that in landing here and attempting to trade with
the Indians we have committed an offence against the sovereignty of
Santo Domingo, which claims all this coast as Spanish territory. These
Indians, he declares, are under the protection of his government, and
therefore are not free to dispose of any goods to us English, or to
receive any favours at our hands; as such dealings would be to the
prejudice of the Spanish rights and influence over this country.
Therefore he has claimed us from the Indians and proposes himself to
hold us prisoners, awaiting the decision of the Governor at San
Augustin."
As I look back now, it seems to me that in those first hours of our
captivity I grew older by many years. That gladsome morning, with its
wilful moods and joyous daring, fell away back into the past, and seemed
as unreal as the day-dreams of my childhood.
We slept that night, Dame Barbara and I, upon a soft and springy couch
of moss piled in the little inner room. That is to say, we lay there
silently; but I think I scarce closed my eyes.
The wind, drifting through the gaping thatch, caught the loose corner of
a shrivelled strip of hide dangling on the rude partition wall, and
kept it swinging back and forth, with a faint tap-tap, tap-tap, the
whole night long. As it swung outward I could catch fleeting glimpses of
the little group huddled about the dying fire; and for hours I lay and
listened to the low murmur of their voices and the heavy clank and
rattle of their chains.
Old Captain Baulk was in a garrulous mood, and he poured into the
sailors' ears a horrid tale of how the Spaniards had massacred the first
French settlers on this coast.
"'Twas just about one hundred years ago," he droned in a gruesome
whisper. "Ribault's settlement was on the River May, somewhere in these
latitudes. There were about nine hundred of them in all, 'tis said,
counting the women and children; and not one of them escaped. The bodies
of dead and wounded were alike hung upon a tree for the crows----"
"In God's name, hold your croaking tongue!" Mr. Rivers broke in angrily.
"'Tis bad enough for the women as things are, and if they overhear these
old wives' tales, think you it will make them rest easier?"
"Not old wives' tales, Mr. Rivers, but the fact, sir,--the bloody fact."
"Silence!" whispered my betrothed, in a voice that made me tremble,--for
he hath a hot temper when it is roused. "Unless thou canst hold that
ill-omened tongue of thine, there presently will be another bloody fact
between thy teeth!"
A sudden silence fell. 'Twas broken finally by my dear love, whose
generous nature soon repented of a harshly spoken word.
"I was over-hasty, my good Baulk; but I would not for the world have
Mistress Tudor hear aught of those horrors. And times have changed
greatly in an hundred years. But this inaction, this inaction! 'Tis
terrible upon a man!"
A suppressed groan accompanied the exclamation, and my heart ached for
him. It must indeed be hard for men--who are used to carving their own
fates and wresting from fortune their desires--suddenly to be forced to
play the woman's part of patient waiting.
The next day brought no relief.
From the windowless hut we could see naught of what passed without; but
about an hour before noon we heard a drum beat in the village. The sound
grew ever fainter, as though receding; then came the distant report of
musketry, and we grew anxious for our people on the sloop. Hours passed
by, and again came the sound of heavy firing, which gradually died away
as before.
Late in the afternoon we were joined by another prisoner, whom--from his
dress of skins--we mistook at first sight for a young Indian; but 'twas
no other than the lad Poole, who was in Mr. Rivers's service and most
loyally attached to his master.
From him we learned that the Indians and some Spaniards had been
parleying with our men all day. He had swum ashore with a letter to the
friar, and had been received with kindness by the savages, who clad him
after their own fashion. The friar, however, vouchsafed him no reply;
and after a time gave a signal to his men to fire on the sloop. The
arrows of the Indians and the muskets of the Spaniards had finally
compelled the _Three Brothers_ to weigh anchor and put out to sea.