HOW I ESCAPE FROM THE SPANISH GUARDHOUSE—AM CHASED BY BLOOD-HOUNDS
IN THE WOODS, AND HOW AT LENGTH I FIND A STRANGE ASYLUM.
The clock, from a neighbouring church, struck two. My cell-door
opened gently, and the turnkey appeared, carrying in his hand a
tolerable-sized bundle, which I eagerly assisted him to undo. It
contained a good suit, such as is commonly worn by Spanish sailors,
with stout leggings fitted for scrambling in the woods, and a
broad-brimmed and steeple-crowned felt hat. The doublet was tied
round my waist with a broad silk sash, and into this I stuck a
gleaming knife, similar to that carried by almost all Spaniards. But
when the turnkey produced, from under his doublet, a short-barrelled
carabine, or musquetoon—a _trabucco_, as he called it—with a fair
supply of shot and slugs, I burst out into exclamations of gratitude.
‘Long live Don José!’ I cried. ‘I fear not the woods now; there is
life and food within this hollow iron.’
‘Look you,’ said the turnkey, ‘here be the words of the nobleman who
hath sent these. “Tell,” quoth he, “tell the Scots mariner, that as
he bore himself before the alcaide like one whose word and good faith
were dear to him, that I supply him with these weapons, upon his
solemn promise that he will use them only to procure himself food,
and that he will not turn them against any Spaniard, excepting only
strictly in the way of self-defence.”’
You may be assured that this reasonable pledge I gave with the utmost
readiness, and poising my musquetoon, and trying how it fitted to my
shoulder, I cried, gaily—
‘Come—come! Despatch—despatch! good master jailer; your friends will
be rousing themselves from their siesta. Faith, man, were you as near
the gallows as I am every moment I linger here, you would pant to
hear the free rustle of the branches above you.’
All the while that the turnkey was helping me on with my new costume,
I kept thinking of where I should bend my steps as soon as I got
clear of Carthagena. It was very likely, I thought, that the schooner
would keep hovering upon the coast, still waiting for the galleon,
the sailing of which would no doubt be delayed by what had happened.
I considered, moreover, that the Will-o’-the-Wisp would be most
likely to ply to the eastward, so as to keep the weather-gauge of the
port she was watching, and that it was quite possible that she might
approach near enough the shore for me to make a signal, by kindling a
fire, or by any other means which might seem available, in order to
attract her notice. So I determined, as soon as I could get fairly
free of the town, to turn to the eastward and to descend again upon
the coast some eight or ten miles from Carthagena.
‘Now,’ quoth the turnkey, ‘you will easily perceive that I am not
to be seen in this business. Your escape must appear to have been
effected by yourself, and it will be the more easy, inasmuch as the
lock on this door has seen much service, and is not difficult to
wrench off; especially when a man is provided with such a weapon as
this,’ and he handed to me a strong iron chisel, or rather short
crow-bar.
‘Listen,’ he continued; ‘I will again lock you up. Let five minutes
elapse, then wrench open the door; take the two first turnings to
your left, the next turning to your right, the next to your left
again, and you are opposite the street. A sentry stands there. If
he be asleep, as is not unlikely, good and well. If he be awake and
challenge, reply, “Guarda Costa,”—that is the countersign. You must
then shift for yourself. Farewell, Señor Buccaneer, and if ever you
meet Don José fail not to tell him I behaved honestly by you, and
earned his doubloons well. You will not forget “Guarda Costa.” Adieu.’
The door closed on him; I waited in silence and with a beating heart.
It was a long five minutes which elapsed; but at its expiration, as
nearly as I could judge, I inserted the short crowbar between the
staple which held the bolt, and the lintel of the door. The wood was
crumbling and rotten, and the iron eaten with long gathering rust.
Gradually, as I applied my strength, the mouldy timber gave way
beneath the pressure, and the metal creaked and crackled. I could
have burst it off with one effort of my muscles, but I feared to
make a noise; and so, gradually working the point of the crowbar
further and further into the wreck of the dilapidated fastenings,
I increased the strain, until at length, with one long, steady and
vehement wrench, I tore the staples from the yielding wood. The metal
fell with a clash upon the floor; the door, which opened inwardly,
swung back; and I saw—the ferret eyes and the twitching visage of the
alcaide’s clerk, staring and grinning through the opening.
I started back as though a demon had looked me in the face. The small
wrinkled and puckered features worked and twisted, and the eyes
gleamed so as to resemble nothing earthly. Then I saw the hand of the
clerk creep stealthily towards the bosom of his mean doublet, without
doubt to pluck therefrom a weapon; his lips moved, and the first
syllables of a cry of alarm had passed them, when I sprang forward,
and the grasp of my fingers round his meagre throat smothered the
words. All this took place in an instant. I dragged the wretch inside
the cell; struck to the door with a blow of my foot, and clutching
both his thin wrists in my left hand, gripped his throat with my
right, until the skin got blue and the eyes protruded all glaring and
bloodshot. I thought for a moment to strangle him as we stood, but as
I felt the weak struggles of the hapless creature, who writhed like
a child in my grasp, my heart softened. I released my hold upon his
throat.
‘Were you strong and I weak,’ I whispered to him, ‘there would be
little pity shown. You are athirst for my blood, but Providence has
willed that you shall not be gratified. As I grant you mercy now,
show mercy to others.’
The clerk tried to speak, but only husky murmurs passed his lips.
‘Lie there,’ I continued, ‘until your friends come to your rescue.’
With that I flung the man upon the floor, so as partially to stun
him, and then, with the aid of some ratline stuff, which sailors
go seldom without, and which was in the pocket of my old doublet,
I both bound and gagged him, not very completely, it is true, but
sufficiently, as I believed, to prevent any alarm being given until I
had got a good start. It was pitiful to see the impotent spite with
which the manacled creature writhed upon the ground, gibbering with
his speechless mouth, and flashing his green eyes as though he could
have shot blistering venom out of them upon me. But I had little
time to bestow upon the spectacle: with a quick step and a beating
heart I fled along the corridors. During my scuffle with the clerk,
the turnkey’s directions had never ceased to ring in my ears. The
two first turnings to the left, the next to the right, the next to
the left again. The silent passages echoed to my footsteps with a
hollow, ominous sound. There were many nail-studded doors, similar
to that of my own cell, on either side. As I made the last turning,
I had a glimpse, in the distance, of the guard-room into which I had
been at first conducted, and then, looking straight ahead, I saw
before me the narrow street, with its deep, dusty ruts, scorching, as
it were, in the hot sun. The passage terminated in a great gateway,
with pillars and a portico, and on the left side of the door stood
a sentry-box, painted white. Pausing for a moment to assume all
possible coolness, I walked steadily out humming the butt-end of a
Spanish sea-song, which the manners of that nation sing when heaving
the anchor to the bows.
Just as I passed the porch I glanced at the sentry. He was a young
man; his features bronzed almost black with the sun, and wearing
silver earrings, glittering amongst his long greasy curls. The fellow
was sitting leaning against his sentry-box; his musket, with his
bayonet fixed, hung carelessly across his knee. As I strode by, he
half opened his sleepy eyes, and muttered mechanically as though
speaking in a dream.
‘Guarda Costa,’ I said, carelessly. The man muttered something
again, and his chin fell upon his breast. Like a phantom I glided
up the hot and silent street. Not a soul was to be seen. The cloth
of outside blinds and the gay draperies hanging from balconies,
rustled in the cooling wind, while those thin slices of wood, forming
what are called in the Indies, ‘jalousies,’ clattered with a merry
rattle. Dogs lay listlessly stretched out in shady corners; bullocks,
harnessed to clumsy carts, lay chewing the cud between the shafts,
and two or three mendicants, as I judged them from their rags and
filth, were stretched beneath gateways and under pillars, where the
breeze came freshest. But the spell of sleep was everywhere. Midnight
in New Spain might bring the time of gallant assignation and joyous
revel, but the drowsy afternoon shone upon a city steeped in sleep,
even as though one of the mighty charms which I used to read of in
idle chronicles of old fancies, were abroad over the dreaming people,
one of those charms of glamour and gramarye of the days when Michael
Scott split the Eildon hills in three, and Thomas of Erceldoune was
courted of the faery queen!
‘So, blessings on that good old Spanish custom, the siesta,’ I cried
to myself, as I sped along the deserted thoroughfare. Carthagena is
not large, neither is it fortified towards the land side. Very little
time had therefore elapsed until I found myself fairly beyond the
city, and running along a rough road, with great plenty of trees and
bushes on either side, and patches of fields, wherein grew the broad
brown-leaved tobacco plant, and here and there a hut, with a yam
garden about it, or the country house of a Carthagena merchant, with
prim terraces and avenues of limes, and fountains sparkling among the
leaves. These I ran past as speedily as possible; but there was no
appearance of aught stirring about them more than in the city. The
siesta was everywhere, ay, even in the great woods, which at length
I reached; the birds sitting motionless upon the branches, and the
beasts of the earth hiding in dens and holes from the fervid noontide
heat. The road which I had followed gradually disappeared, splitting
as it were into many little tracks made by hunters or other wanderers
in the woods. Around me there soon rose rocks and steep hills, and
the tangled underwood and the long grass made walking difficult.
However, I was in too great spirits to feel much weariness. Every
step I took was almost as a year added to my life. So, at last, when
I saw that I had really plunged fairly into the wilderness, I forced
my way amid the rank vegetation, tearing through brake and thicket,
and singing and shouting lustily in the fulness of my heart. The sun
was my compass, and by him I steered eastwardly.
‘Ho! ho! Stout Jem,’ I cried to myself, ‘mayhap, we are but now
laying the same course; the gay schooner out upon the tilting sea,
and he that loves her well amid the shady woods and green savannahs
of the main. So we shall meet again, comrades—we shall meet again!’
In this merry mood I traversed several miles before I thought of
refreshment or of rest. It was just as my limbs began to ache and my
breath to come short, as I breasted a steep hill, that I came to a
fair fountain gurgling from a rift in a low mossy rock. It was not an
unknown well of the wilderness, for human hands had placed a doubled
leaf, through which, as through a spout, the living water ran from
the runnel, and tinkled out into a natural basin beneath.
So here I sat me down and wiped the perspiration from my brow. It was
a lonely spot, and I wondered whose hands had plucked the leaf and
laid it in its place. From the basin I speak of, the water ran amid
rustling reeds, and great floating leaves, and gaudy flowers, until
it spread itself out into a shallow pool, half covered with greasy
scum, but elsewhere as clear as the air above it. In the centre of
the pool sat a little bird of the diver species, with the glossy neck
and the bright beady eyes which I love in water-fowl. He took little
notice of me, and I sat and watched him as he glided to and fro amid
the floating leaves and twigs which had fallen from the trees. While
thus occupied, I heard once or twice the distant bay as of a dog.
‘Ho!’ thought I, ‘the siesta is over, and Señors the dogs are the
first astir.’
My eye fell upon the water-fowl again. It seemed disquieted, and
swam quickly to and fro, making a soft quackle, and jerking its
little head, as its kind do when listening. The bay of the dog
was heard again—it seemed to have come nearer—and, directly, the
water-bird, half swimming and half flying, beating the surface with
its wings as it went, took refuge in the thickest of the sedges
and disappeared. This little incident roused me. I started up and
hearkened. Again, the deep hollow echo of the hound’s bay struck my
ears. It was very different from the yelping of a woodman’s cur; and
the dogs of the Indians do not bark. Immediately a thought flashed
upon me—a ghastly—appalling thought: the Spaniards were upon my
track with bloodhounds! Almost instinctively I started up and fled,
stumbling as I went. I had a horror of these fiends of dogs, trained
to hunt men; and, as I flew along, I thought every moment that I
heard the savage creatures panting close behind me. After about ten
minutes’ quick running, I stopped, quite spent, to breathe, and,
listening for a moment, a faint sound of hallooing, and a burst of
baying, loud and long, came floating on the wind. I turned and fled
again, straining every nerve mechanically, although I knew but too
well that, fleet as was my foot, every time it touched the ground
it left the mark which guided the avengers. I, therefore, tried to
leap and double, and even got up into a tree and swung myself along
by means of the interlacing branches. But this was slow work, I
dropped to the ground, and ran again. All this time the voice of the
dog was sounding nearer and nearer behind me, and I wondered how
my pursuers could keep up with him, at the rate he was evidently
running. Nevertheless, I loosened the knife in my girdle and prepared
for the struggle. As I did so, I thought of my blunderbuss. Heaven!
I had left it behind in my first alarm at the well. The token would
have told the Spaniards that their four-footed guide was as sure as
it appeared swift. The baying of the accursed hound came close and
closer. Oh! how I envied the birds as they rose with a rustle and a
scream from the foliage, and soared away in the air, which leaves
no track to tell of who has left it. Covered with sweat and dust,
and reeling with fatigue, I ran almost at random. Twice I disturbed
glistening snakes, which coiled their spiral folds and flashed their
black eyes at me, and then glided away like slimy painted ropes
pulled by some unseen hand amongst the herbage. But at that instant
the bite of the labarri, or the hollow tooth of the rattlesnake,
had hardly more horror for me than the gripe of the crunching jaws
which were fast following on my track. By this time, the thunder
of the hound’s voice was so close that I involuntarily turned at
every step to see him make his appearance. The final moment came
at last. Crashing with a great rustle through a bed of yielding
bushes, sprang a huge, tawny dog, black and foaming at the muzzle.
The creature ran, cat-like, with his belly close to the ground, his
big, muscular limbs, showing as supple and slamp as a tiger’s, and
his broad deep chest, and great hanging ears, all speckled white
with flakes of foam. I looked for his master, but saw none; and,
gazing more closely, observed a leash round the creature’s neck, and
a broken leathern thong trailing beside him. This at once explained
the rapidity with which he had overtaken me—the animal having broken
away from those who led him, and it also sent a cheery flush of hope,
dancing through my brain. Oh, how I cursed my heedlessness in leaving
the carabine by the well! A handful of slugs would have stopped the
blood-hound for ever, and my pursuers deprived of their guide, could
seek me but at random through the woods. Could I manage him with the
knife?—that was the question. I had no long time to debate it. I must
either slay or be slain—there was no choice. I stopped, faced round,
tore off my doublet, and wrapped it, in thick and heavy folds, round
my left arm—shielding my wounded hand in addition, by grasping with
it the inside of my strong and stiff felt hat. Then clutching my
knife in my right, I knelt on one knee, and waited for the onset of
the blood-hound.
I had, indeed, hardly assumed my position of defence when he was
on me. True to the instinct of his kind, he lifted neither eyes nor
nose from the ground—running, truly and steadily, by the scent,
until he was scarcely a couple of fathoms from me. Then, indeed, he
flung up his nostrils in the air, and suddenly seeing me, uttered
a loud splitting yell, champing at the same time the foam in a hot
shower from his jaws, and then, with a great scrambling bound,
furious and open-mouthed, pounced upon me, driving his teeth into
the folds of the doublet, which I held before me as a shield, and
dashing me, by the very force of his spring, over and over amid the
grass, scrambling and tearing the skin from my shoulders, with his
huge horny paws, and furiously shaking and riving the stuff of the
doublet which, luckily for me, was both thick and strong. For a
moment or two, I had no opportunity of using the knife, I could not
see where to hit. There was before me but a vision of great foaming,
tearing jaws, and flashing eyes, and struggling limbs—sometimes above
me—sometimes beneath, as we rolled over and over in the scuffle. But
at length, I had a chance; the broad muscular chest of the noble
creature was left, for a moment, unsheltered by his fore-legs, and
in a second I had driven the keen strong knife, through and through
his lungs, the handle smiting the dog’s breast with a hollow blow.
There was an immediate convulsion of the animal’s limbs. Letting
go his hold of my doublet, he flung his muzzle into the air, and
with a sound between a cough and a yell, threw up a hot sputtering
shower of blood. Quick as thought, my reeking knife was withdrawn,
and again and again plunged in up to the very hilt—the muscles of
the creature’s body—a moment before, all strained and tense as
iron bands—gradually collapsed—the fierce eyes turned, so that
the yellowish whites shone, with a grim glare into mine, and it
required but a slight effort to shake off the quivering and bleeding
creature, which as I rose trembling and panting from the fray—fell
heavily from my limbs, and lay gasping in its blood among the
grass. Truly, it was a noble dog, as large and more powerful than
the mightiest stag-hound, but its deep chest had uttered its last
bay, its giant limbs had run their last race. The life passed out
of the quivering flesh, as I stood and gazed at it. Then flinging
over my shoulders my doublet, all torn, and stained with blood
and froth, I addressed myself again to flight—thankful and joyous
for my deliverance. ‘Three good thrusts of this trusty steel,’
said I to myself, sheathing my knife, ‘and the utmost spite of the
Spaniard has been baffled.’ I was reckoning without my host. Hardly
had the words escaped my lips, when, again, the accursed bay of a
blood-hound came floating in the wind. I paused and listened with
clenched teeth. For an instant, I hoped that it might be but the
dying growl of the animal killed. But, no, he lay stark, and the
foam was already cooling upon his jaw. Again and again, came the
ominous sound—I could not be mistaken. My pursuers had started with
at least a brace of dogs—and they were still following fast and hot
upon my footsteps. A shuddering chill passed all over me, and I felt
sick at heart—then I roused myself. ‘Perhaps,’ I argued, ‘the blood
of the dead hound will confuse the scent of the living one. I have
heard of such things.’ But afterwards I learned that the Spaniards,
seeing the body from a distance, had not allowed their four-footed
guide to approach it closely, but that leading him in a circle round
the carcase, the animal had again struck upon my scent—closer and
fresher than ever. Thus it was, that as I forced my way through the
thickets of bushes, and long rustling grass—I ever heard behind me
the hollow boom of that accursed creature, as he gave loud tongue,
and the distant hallooing as the Spaniards answered him with shouts
and execrations. Summoning my resources, I tried, as I ran, to call
to mind the legends of men chased with blood hounds—of which I had
heard in my childhood, and the means whereby they had baffled their
pursuers. For many such tales are told on winter nights by Scottish
hearths—of the bold moss-troopers of Teviot and Annan, and the wild
northern caterans beyond the Highland line. But my memory seemed
to have forsaken me. I could remember none of the devices which I
had so often admired—although it is possible that were I keeping
a calm mid-watch at sea, heaps of such stories would have flocked
unsummoned into my brain. So I did naught save press instinctively
forward—having little idea of the direction I was pursuing, and
indeed seeking only for the open glades and avenues of the forest,
through which I could make the better speed. But hope began again
rapidly to leave me. The waves roar not after a scudding bark, with
more unceasing tumult, than there arose behind me the clamour of my
pursuers. I winded and doubled—I ran north—then turned on my heel
and speeded in the opposite direction; but still, as a cock-boat
follows a ship to which she is made fast, through all her tackings
and veerings—so did my pursuers tread steadily in my track. I began
to grow desperate. Again, I drew my knife from its sheath, and
stopping, and leaning, panting, against a great tree, I made up my
mind to rest there—recover what strength I could, and sell my life as
dearly as might be. At that moment, I heard a low continuous sound—a
deep hollow boom echoing faintly in the wood. I listened intently,
and then started up, almost with the vigour with which I had began
my flight. I could not be deceived—what I heard was the roar of a
waterfall, and the sound in an instant brought, as it were, a vision
before my eyes. It was the vision of an old, iron-clasped book, which
we had at home at Kirkleslie. Its cover was thick parchment, its
leaves were brown with age, and the letters were strange and quaint.
This book my father had prized next to the Bible, and those which
treated of holy things, and often was it in his hands, both out at
sea and by the cosy ingle-nook in the stormy winter time. It was,
indeed, an ancient chronicle of the ‘Life and Death of King Robert
the Bruce,’ and at the same instant of time as I remembered it—one
sentence in particular loomed, as it were, before me, until I could
almost fancy I saw the very strange old letters quivering in the
sunshine. This was the sentence:—
“And now the Kynge being sore pressed by the Blood-houndis of ye
traytour Lorne, ye whythe had followed him even from ye up gettynge
of ye sun, and beyinge come unto ane small rivere, did straighte
enter therynne, and in such mannerre pursue his flyghte, so that ye
living waterres washynge clean awaye ye scente of his footsteppes,
the blood-houndis were at faulte, and ye traytour Lorne was baffled
for that tymme. Thus did ye Kynge escape aue great dangere.”
‘Fool as I was,’ I exclaimed, ‘not to have thought of the Bruce and
Macdougall of Lorne before!’ With new life and vigour, I pressed
forward in the direction of the waterfall. The noise came every
instant louder and louder upon my ear; and in a short space, I had
burst my way down a steep bank, and to the edge of a deep pool, or
cauldron, into which a large rivulet came thundering and foaming
down, through a deep chasm in the rocks above. I had little time to
admire the loveliness of the cataract; but rushing to the outlet
of the pool, I saw that the stream went dancing down a pebbly bed,
intersected here and there with low veins and ledges of rocks, like
weirs, over which the bright water flashed and foamed right merrily.
So, with a cry of joy, I bounded into the stream, and began rapidly
to splash my way downwards, running with almost frantic haste,
sometimes slipping and stumbling over the smooth slimy stones,
sometimes floundering into a deepish pool, scaring the fish, which
flew gleaming away, like wedges of burnished metal, to seek shelter
under the ledges of rock, or amongst the twisted roots of trees upon
the bank, among which the water frothed and gurgled.
‘My great and fervent benison be upon water,’ I cried to myself.
‘It hath ever been my home, and now is it my refuge and my safety.
Thanks, thanks, good secret-keeping stream! Amid the merry music of
thy murmur, thou wilt never prate the whereabouts of the poor flying
mariner. Rush speedily on with me, fair and living waters, sweeping
my track fast downwards to the sea!’
With such-like rhapsodies, I relieved the fulness of my heart, as I
followed the stream, splashing down in its very centre. Sometimes
when a small waterfall interrupted its course, I had to scramble
ashore and make a brief circuit, but I soon took to the water again.
In about ten minutes after I had first entered the river, the bay of
the bloodhound ceased to be heard; but I distinguished the sound of
a clearly-blown horn or trumpet, and the report of one or two guns,
as though one party were making signals to another. Still I pressed
on, but more cautiously—watching the banks very narrowly, and at the
places where the stream flowed silently, pausing to listen with all
my ears. There was no alarm, and I began to grow very confident,
when all at once it occurred to me, as I glanced at the point of the
horizon to which the sun was now hastening, that I must be rapidly
returning either to Carthagena, or to some point very near it, upon
the coast, where, undoubtedly, this rivulet emptied itself into the
sea. This consideration at once arrested my footsteps; and creeping
among the roots of a tree, beneath an overhanging bank, I began to
muse upon what was best to be done. I did not doubt but that my
pursuers had fairly lost my traces, and that it would be a hard
matter for them again to find the scent. Indeed I considered that I
might very safely leave the water, and pursue my original westward
route amongst the woods; but then I was unarmed, excepting my knife,
and without even the means of lighting a fire how was I to live among
the forests and the wildernesses which stretched backward from the
coast? As I mused, a thought struck me. When first captured by the
Spaniards, I had several double doubloons, and a few pieces of eight
about me. This money I had been careful to preserve, and possessed
it still, save one of the doubloons, which I had given to my jailer,
as he bade me adieu. Why, then, thought I, should I not return to
Carthagena as soon as the night falls, and endeavour to purchase
fairly what I want? I speak Spanish sufficiently well. I am dressed
like a Spanish sailor. Why should I not, by a circuitous path,
reach the seaward part of the city, and making believe that I have
landed from a vessel in the bay, purchase what arms and ammunition
I require, not forgetting some food, and so leaving the town again
in the darkness, pursue my way westward? The more I thought of this
scheme, the more feasible did it appear. To be sure, there was a risk
of being taken, and perhaps hung; but if I plunged unarmed into the
woods, I had at least the certainty of dying a lingering death by
starvation, or of being murdered by the savages. Therefore, without
much ado, I decided upon braving the immediate danger, and purchasing
what I wanted in the town, from which I had so recently fled. With
this design, I began again to wade slowly down the river, thinking
to myself that if any one noticed the wet state of my garments, I
might easily account for it, by saying that I had but just now landed
in a small boat through the surf. My progress was of course but
slow; and several huts being built upon the banks of the stream, I
was obliged now and then to leave the water and take circuits round
about, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the woods. I met,
however, with no interruption; and so, in about the space of an hour
and a half or thereby, I heard the sound of the surf. On gaining the
coast I found it to consist of considerable sand-hills, with many
small bays, and lines of breakers extending several cable-lengths
from the shore. The weather being moderate, however, the surf was not
violent. My first act was to creep to the top of one of the highest
sand-hills, and look anxiously to seaward. There were the sails of
one or two fishing-boats, and as many coasting craft of small burden
in sight, but nothing like our schooner; so I descended and began
to move to the eastward. Before I had taken many steps, however, I
recollected that Carthagena was fortified at its seaward extremities,
and I asked myself whether I could safely attempt to pass through
the line of defences. The countersign I knew, but it might have
been changed since my escape, or perhaps it only applied to the
guard of the alcaide’s house. While I was thus debating the matter
with myself, I suddenly saw floating in the shallow water near the
mouth of the small river a small boat or canoe, bottom upward, and,
running hastily towards her, found her to be no other than the negro
fisherman’s canoe, which we had upset the night of our unfortunate
reconnoitring expedition. I straightway determined to turn this piece
of luck to account, and, instead of proceeding by land, to paddle
round and disembark in any quiet corner of the bay. On righting the
canoe, I found she was but little damaged, and the paddles having
been secured by pieces of spun yarn, as is usual in the boats of
fishermen, were both ready for use. Therefore, without more ado, I
got into the boat and pulled her off to sea. There were not less than
three bars formed by the sea at the mouth of the stream, and the
breakers burst white upon them all. However, by watching my time,
and carefully attending to the run of the seas, I got over the inner
two very easily. On the outward bank the surf broke heavier, and
once or twice I expected to have had to swim for it. However, I had
better luck, the canoe was very lively, and danced like a cork on
the broken seas, so that at length I fairly made the smooth swell,
with a boat, however, half full of water. After baling her out I
began slowly to paddle eastward, the boat being impelled by the dying
powers of the sea breeze, and presently, just as the sun was dipping,
I opened the bay of Carthagena, and seeing an old slimy wooden jetty,
only used apparently by a few fishermen, I made for it. Truly, says
that brave man, (and also as brave a penman,) whom afterwards I
well knew, William Dampier, ‘Carthagena is a fair city open to the
sea.’ The level beams of the setting sun glowed upon the heaving
water, and upon the great Spanish ships, lying like piled castles,
with high forecastles and carved and galleried poops, slowly rocking
to the solemn moving seas; and shorewards, upon the bright line of
gaily-painted houses, with verandahs and balconies all fluttering
with tinted draperies; and the pinnacles of churches and convents,
from whence the evening bells came pealing out into the rich glowing
air. One or two small fishing-craft were slowly making for the beach,
and a canoe or two would now and then glide between the shipping and
the shore; but to my great comfort no one seemed to pay the slightest
attention to my humble self. Therefore, I made fast the canoe to the
jetty whereof I spoke, and which was all hung with nets put there
to dry, and walked, the more boldly as it was now grey dusk, into
the city, looking for some shop or store where I might be served
with the articles which I needed. The traders and merchants were now
beginning to close their warehouses, and so it behoved me quickly
to find a suitable shop. The streets in which I wandered being very
narrow and high, were all but dark; lights gleamed out of the houses,
shadowy figures moved upon balconies, and grave men with long cloaks
stood by doorways, talking in their sonorous tongue, and smoking
great pipes of tobacco. Still no one took notice of me, and I was the
more assured, inasmuch as I saw around me many seamen dressed as I
was myself, one or two of whom hailed me ‘comrade,’ and would have
taken me to be treated at the Posada. I moved, however, with a quick
stealthy step, keeping my eyes warily abroad, and at length, in a
small street or lane, found a low-roofed shop, or rather stall, quite
open to the thoroughfare, in which, in the middle of a collection of
fire-arms, and steel weapons of many kinds, sat an old, hook-nosed,
grey-headed man, with a very dirty face and great iron spectacles,
drinking a bowl of savoury cocoa, and at the same time dictating
to a little lad, dressed in a thread-bare fashion, some bills of
charges which the boy was writing in a great greasy account-book, by
the light of a single candle, which flared and flickered in the open
shop. The old merchant I concluded to be a Jew, and judged that so
long as I paid a good price for what I wanted, I would be asked no
questions which it might be inconvenient to answer. I, therefore,
entered the shop, and was about to speak, when the Jew, who had not
perceived me, suddenly raised his voice, and, addressing some one
whom I had not seen by reason of a pillar which supported the roof of
the shop, said—
‘Not a pistole—not a maravedi! Father of Abraham! I think it is a
robber thou art. Here be your last bills of exchange, for which I
advanced thee money, returned dishonoured by the goldsmith at Cadiz.
Go thy ways—go thy ways; thou shalt have no gold here!’
Upon this discouraging address, a man in military attire rose
grumbling from a chest upon which he had been sitting, and at the
same time making as though he would draw his weapon on the merchant.
But the latter seemed little to heed this motion.
‘Take thy lantern, Moses,’ he said to the boy, ‘and light out
this honourable cavalier, who hath found at last that impertinent
importunity doth not always unbutton a man’s pouches.’
The lad stepped with his light towards the spot where I stood, and
the would-be borrower following him, still muttering and threatening
the Jew with all sorts of vengeance as an unbelieving hound, who
would trample on the holy Cross—the latter cried out, ‘Hold up thy
lamp, Moses, and give the cavalier light enough to swear by.’
The boy waved his lantern with a grin, and the light flashing on the
soldier, I recognised in an instant the flushed and gross features
of the Captain Guzman, noways improved in expression by the little
scene in which he had no doubt been an actor. The recognition was,
unfortunately, mutual, for just as I recoiled back into the shadow so
as to allow him to pass, he roared out—
‘Holy mother! the English dog of a pirate, who escaped to-day,
after half-throttling the alcaide’s clerk!’ And with these words,
he pounced upon me; but I was prepared, and striking him a blow in
the face, which, I hope, showed him every star in heaven, and a few
additional ones besides, dancing before his eyes, I closed on him,
and hurled him back into the shop, upsetting the Jew boy with a
crash over a pile of casks and bales, and immediately extinguishing
the light. Having paid this last attention to my friend, who was
so sure that I would come to the gallows with all speed, I took
to my heels incontinently, running at random. But Guzman, although
overthrown, was not stunned, and continued to bawl out clamorously,
to catch, or shoot, or stab the English pirate. The alarm was very
quickly taken up, and the whole street was in a commotion. However,
as every one was running about in the dusk, which already approached
to darkness, as well as myself, and as I shouted to secure the
English cutthroat as lustily as ever a Spaniard of them all, I was
more inclined to laugh than to be much alarmed at my mischance, when
a pestilent fellow, who had run out of a house in his shirt-sleeves,
grasped me by the arm, and earnestly besought me to tell him where
the heretic was. I replied that I had seen the rascal running down a
certain lane, to which I pointed, when the man, turning short round
upon me, and having most likely a good ear for his own language,
asked me, very abruptly, from what part of Spain I came. For all
reply, I made an effort, shook him clean off, and darted away. But
the fellow was as nimble as I was; he was at my heels in a trice,
shouting at the same time at the top of his voice, and pointing me
out to others as we ran. We had a hard race of it. Half-a-dozen times
I was grappled by willing hands, but my impetus in running enabled
me again and again to burst away, while, to distract attention, I
shouted and pointed ahead just as did my pursuers. All this, the
reader must conceive, passed with breathless rapidity. It was a
confused scene—narrow, gloomy streets, all sparkling with lights as
people rushed to doors and balconies, and echoing to the clamour of
voices and the tramp of footsteps, as the shouting crowd ran wildly,
jostling and tripping each other, and many of them swearing that
the English pirates had returned to the attack, and that there was
nothing but pillage and murder for Carthagena. Howbeit, in the midst
of all this confusion, I could not but be sensible that the man in
the shirt-sleeves and his original comrades had not lost sight of me
for an instant. Therefore I put forth my utmost speed; plunged from
street to street and lane to lane, fearing every moment that I would
run into what the French call a _cul-de-sac_; and, indeed, at length,
as I emerged from a confused cluster of narrow, winding streets into
a more open way lined with high walls, along which I ran, almost
spent with toil, and panting for breath, I heard a great shout of
triumph behind me, as though I was at length trapped, and looking
narrowly ahead, I saw a high wall with iron trellis-work at the top,
and over which ran the branches of trees, barring all passage. I was
close to the obstacle before I saw it in the dusk, and at the same
instant I became sensible of a small wicket-door, which, before I had
time to think, opened, and the forms of two ladies, dressed in black,
veiled and hooded, with lace and silk capes, stood before me.
Hardly knowing what I did, I flung myself on my knees upon the
ground. They started back, and the younger, as I judged, uttered a
slight scream.
‘Ladies,’ I gasped out, ‘I am an unfortunate Scots sailor; your
countrymen pursue me to kill me. Gentle ladies, save my life!’
Just as I said this the footsteps of the Spaniards echoed between the
high walls.
‘Where is the English rascal?’ they cried; ‘he shall die the death!’
After a single whispered word, hastily passed between them, one of
the ladies bent towards me, started back, came forwards again, and
said in my ear, in a timid, fluttering voice:
‘Rise, young man; and pass in.’
I sprang up and rushed through the wicket, which the ladies closed
again from the outside; then, couching breathlessly by the door,
I listened. In a moment I heard the gruff voices of my pursuers,
evidently asking the ladies whether they had seen me. What answer
was returned I could only guess at, from hearing the disappointed
exclamations and the retiring footsteps of the Spaniards. Then I
fell upon my knees, and called God to bless the kind hearts which
had saved a flying man from his deadly foes. I was in a garden.
The high wall seemed to shut out the clamour of my pursuers, which
had, however, doubtless, died away, as the search seemed to be
unsuccessful. Around me were rich trees and shrubs, and gaudy
flowers. Fresh from the tumult of a street scuffle, how peaceful a
spot it seemed! The fireflies shot amid the bushes like sparks from
anvils. The hum of the wings of night insects sounded like the low
breathing of Nature sleeping. The cooling dews fell balm-like upon my
hot, wet forehead. I sank back, leaning against the wall, exhausted
and utterly worn by the excitement, the pain, and the great fatigue
of the day. I felt, even before I had been ten minutes couched amid
the sweet smelling and clustering shrubs, a sweet lethargy come over
me, and stretching my overwrought limbs among the herbage, I fairly
fell into a deep, calm sleep.