MY ADVENTURES AMONG THE PEARL FISHERS, AND MY ESCAPE FROM THE FLEET.
All this time we were beating gaily up to windward in company with
our consort, both boats proceeding at much the same rate, and
frequently hailing each other and sailing nearly alongside. On the
third day from that of our departure, we saw upon our right, towering
in great blue masses out of the sea, the high land of Santa Martha.
Mariners say that it is higher than the Peak of Teneriffe, and that
when the weather is very clear, there is a certain circuit of the
Caribbean sea, not far from hence, where, from the tops of a lofty
vessel, you may see at once the distant ridges of Hispaniola, the
Blue Mountains of Jamaica, and the Peak of Santa Martha upon the
main land. The next day, the coast line being far distant, and being
cloven, as it were, by the great river De la Hacha, which here comes
into the sea, we saw riding at anchor, in-shore from us, a squadron
of small ships. We being still well at sea, the water beneath was of
a deep blue; but where the Pearl Fleet, for such they were, lay, the
hue of the sea was a light green. It was as glorious an afternoon
as ever shone under the tropics, as bowling cheerily before the
sea-breeze, we ran down for our sister ships, they lying at their
anchors above the great bank of pearls. There were fourteen or
fifteen barks similar to our own, and at some distance was a stately
frigate, which protected them, lying-to.
‘That is the convoy of the Pearl Fleet,’ said Garbo; ‘we must first
speak her, and she will allot our station on the bank.’
And, in fact, as he talked, the great maintop-sail of the Spanish
ship was filled, and her bows, falling off from the wind and pointing
to us, she moved slowly out to meet us. As she drew near, I could
not help thinking that she was the same vessel which had chased the
‘Will-o’-the-Wisp.’ At any rate, she had the same richly-carved bows,
full of figures of angels and saints, and the same goodly fabric of
rigging towering up against the blue sky. Presently, she hove-to
again, our small sails being becalmed under her lee, and Captain
Garbo, with two of his men, went aboard her in the small canoe which
the bark carried. As for myself, I did not care to trust my neck on
board a Spanish man-of-war. Indeed, I kept as much out of sight as
I very well could, pretending to be busy about a thousand little
matters on board the bark. I noted, however, that the Spaniard bore
twelve great guns upon either side, besides double batteries upon
forecastle and poop. Her high decks swarmed with men, who scrambled
over into her chains and out at her port-holes, and chatted with
the Spanish part of the bark’s crew, and mocked and gibed at Wooroo
as he sat upon his hams on the deck, taking no more notice of what
was said to him than the mast. Presently the captain returned with
a card in his hand, whereon was inscribed the station of the bark
upon the bank. Each boat had its own appointed place; and the frigate
was there not only to protect the fleet against Buccaneers, but to
enforce the rules which the Spanish government, to whom the fishery
belongs, lays down to be observed by the barks which prosecute it.
The pearl bank extends for a great many miles in length and one in
breadth, there being a deep channel about three or four leagues
broad between its inmost edge and the land. Our position was towards
the eastern extremity of the bank, and so we beat up towards it,
passing many of the anchored boats, who hailed us cheerily, and
asked what news from Carthagena. As we sailed along, we saw the
divers, all of them either Indian or negroes, standing often upon
the edge of the boats, poising their bodies for a moment, and then
plunging head-foremost down into the sea. Some of the fleet were
more deeply laden than others, that depending upon the number of
the oysters which chanced to lie scattered under each boat. As
soon as the cargo is made up, the pearl fisherman weighs, hoists
his lug sails, and runs in for the shore; but if the frigate fires
two guns, one close after the other, he must lie-to, until a boat
from the big ship comes and gives him leave to proceed. Although
the rule, however, is, that each boat fishes and sails for itself,
without attending to its neighbours, yet the convoy always tries as
far as possible to arrange matters, so that the fleet may sail in a
body to the shore, the frigate attending them to windward. If it be
suspected that there are Buccaneers upon the coast, the ordinary rule
is indeed altogether suspended, and no boat is permitted to weigh
anchor until the commodore fire a gun, and hoist a blue flag at his
foretop-gallant-mast head, when the whole squadron run gaily together
for the Ranchiera, as the pearl village is called, upon the banks of
the Rio de la Hacha. When we joined the fleet no danger was, however,
suspected, and by the time that we had taken our station, and let
the anchor splash from the bows, about half the barks, which were
deepest in the water, had weighed; and hoisting their brown patched
sails, scudded away before the last of the sea-breeze. As soon as it
became dark each boat hoisted a lantern to its mast-head; the frigate
showing two, one above the other, in the foretop-gallant rigging. The
night was calm and still. Every now and then we would hear the faint
sound of songs, coming over the water from distant barks; and, as
hour after hour passed away, it was marked by the clang of the great
ship’s bell. Meantime, on board our bark, we were busy preparing for
to-morrow’s fishing. The waist was cleared out, and the decks fore
and aft lumbered with the coils of rope and old canvas, flung aside
to make room for the expected overflow of oysters. Then the baskets
to be used in lifting them from the bottom of the sea, strong cages
of thick wire, all rusty and bent, were prepared; the tackle was
rigged, and lines were affixed to heavy pieces of lead, furnished
with handles for the divers to grasp, so as to sink the quicker to
the bottom. These preparations over, we cooked and ate our suppers
and turned in, leaving but one hand on deck for an anchor watch, as
sailors call it.
‘Now,’ thought I, as, according to my custom, instead of crawling
into the little cabins, which were not much better than the hold
of the ship which had carried Wooroo from Guinea, I laid myself
down on deck, well muffled up in old sails, to keep the heavy dews
away—‘Now,’ thought I, ‘I have heard of kings and queens who slept on
beds whereof the curtains were heavy with pearls, all glittering in
their lustre above them, but here am I now, and here be a fleet of us
poor sea-tossed mariners sleeping upon a bed with more pearls beneath
and around us than there are in the treasuries and the thrones, and
on the royal bed-curtains to boot, of London, or Paris, or Madrid.’
I know not whether the kings and queens whereof I have spoken slept
the better for the pearls above them; I know I slept well with pearls
below me, being indeed favoured, perhaps by St. Gieronimo, with a
vision in which I saw the ‘Will-o’-the Wisp’ suddenly appear in the
midst of the Pearl Fleet and engage the Spanish frigate, Stout Jem
himself fighting in single combat with the captain, and at length,
by one stout thrust, pinning him to his own mainmast; when, just as
I was about to spring forward to haul down the golden flag of Spain
from the man-of-war’s topmast, a loud voice, coming from real flesh
and blood lungs, smote my ear, and, starting up, I saw Captain Garbo
and the rest scrambling through the hatchways in their shirts, while
the anchor watch was shouting lustily that there was a strange vessel
rowing with sweeps through the fleet, and that he had even heard the
muttering of the voices on board of her. At this, I confess very
willingly, my heart made a leap into my mouth. Was my dream a true
vision—was Stout Jem, indeed, so near? We all held our peace and
listened, but we heard nothing. It was now quite dark. The night had
got cloudy, and there were neither stars nor moon. The air, too,
was quite still, and the tap-tap of the water against the ridges of
overlapping planks on the clinker-built side of the boat, as she
rocked slowly on the swell, was the only sound we could distinguish.
The lights of the other barks were gleaming on the dark ocean, and
the two lanterns of the frigate swayed slowly from side to side, as
though they were meteors playing among the stars.
‘Tush, Pedro,’ said Captain Garbo,’ you fell asleep, man, and dreamed
you saw a ghost. You deserve to be dipped alongside, just to waken
you.’
But at that moment we all started, for suddenly there came over the
water a loud crash, as of two ships meeting, followed all at once
by a crackling volley of musketry, which glanced bright through the
darkness, gleaming in fiery streaks over the black oily-looking
water, and then, mingling with the reports of the fire-arms, a great
hearty cheer, such as Englishmen give when they leap upon the decks
of an enemy. By the flashes we saw that one of the largest and
heaviest laden of the pearl barks had been laid aboard by a very long
low-built boat with three raking masts, like those of the vessels
which the French call _chasse-marées_, and moved by a number of great
sweeps, which extended from her sides like the long legs of some huge
insect of the sea.
‘The Pirates! the Buccaneers!’ screamed all our crew together, and
they rushed to haul down our lantern, so that we might the better
escape in the darkness. In the meantime, there was a great crashing
and scuffling, with heavy plunges in the water, as though men had
leaped or been thrown overboard, and then, in the course of a moment,
there was again silence, and the light of the captured vessel, for
such no doubt she was, disappeared. But on board of the rest of the
fleet there sprang up, as you may conceive, the strangest uproar.
Instead of hauling down their lights, as we had done, in less than
a minute the sea was all a-fire with the infinity of lanterns and
torches which they waved and flashed from rigging and deck, while
such a clamour of shouts, blowing of trumpets and conch shells,
beating of drums, and firing of muskets and pistols, I never heard.
It appeared, indeed, as if the pearl fishers imagined that they
would drive away their enemy by making a noise and hallooing; all
this, however, was done, Captain Garbo said, to alarm the convoy;
but, truly, they must have kept sleepy watch aboard of her, if they
did not hear the tumult of the first attack. But in the meantime
the great ship was aroused—a flash of red flame gleamed from out
her sides, showing for a moment boats full of men surging in the
water beneath, and her sails falling in great white patches from her
yards, as she prepared to give chace to the enemy. But these broad
sails were useless; not a reef point rattled against the canvas in
the great stillness of the night; but we heard the dash of oars and
distant shouts as the boats of the frigate pulled away from her among
the fleet. Meantime, the din on board the different barks subsided,
but we could see the crews as they ran to-and-fro upon the decks,
still carrying torches and lanterns, while every minute or two the
frigate fired a great gun, for what purpose I know not, only that it
seems as if Spaniards, like Frenchmen, seldom think they are doing
anything if they be not making a noise. But where, meanwhile, was the
Buccaneer rowboat, or galley? I strained my eyes through the darkness
in the direction in which I had seen her. Could she be an Englishman,
I thought to myself, and, if so, would it be possible for me to board
her? A light canoe floated alongside our bark, on which my eye fell
as these ideas rose up in my mind. But, when I reflected a minute, I
saw how mad would be any attempt to make my way in the darkness, and
amid pursuing boats, to the vessel, even although she might be, what
I had no certain means of knowing her—a friend.
While I was pondering thus, Captain Garbo accosted me in a whisper—
‘This is but a mad freak of your countrymen,’ he said, ‘for such I
judge them to be. They could not expect to carry off the bark from
the middle of a fleet, and without a breath of wind either.’
Just as he spoke, a jagged flash of lightning, which dazzled me, tore
right across the sky to the westward, and the loud crackling thunder
had not ceased to explode above us, when a heavy puff of wind,
bearing broad plashing rain-drops before it, struck our bark, and
made her swing round to her anchor like a weathercock.
‘A squall,’ I cried out, ‘and the privateer knew it was coming. It
was that made them so bold.’
Just then a whole row of lanterns was run up to the gaff of the great
ship.
‘See,’ said Garbo—‘a squall indeed. That is the signal for the recal
of all her boats.’
There was nothing which appeared to me very ominous in the look
of the night. I only expected a pretty sharp outburst of wind and
rain with thunder and lightning. And so, indeed, it proved, for in
less than five minutes from the first flash, a strong gusty wind,
driving before it a pelting rain, was whitening the sea around us,
and hissing and whistling through the few ropes which formed our
rigging, while the bark herself tore and plunged at her anchor, as
if she would have wrenched it out from its hold amid the oysters. In
a moment the flaming torches, shown from so many of the fleet, were
blown out or quenched; but the great ship, burning a bright light in
her main rigging, we saw her all lurid and blue in the glare, leaning
heavily over to the blast, her slanting yards dotted with the seamen,
who were taking in sail as fast as they had spread it forth. In a few
minutes again all around was darkness, except where the glimmer of
a lantern, tossing and tumbling as though a giant were flinging it
from hand to hand, showed where one of the Pearl Fleet was jerking
and straining at her anchor. The strength of the squall was not
alarming, but it tore up the sea upon these shallow banks into quick
cross-running and angry waves, and the rain was driven in our faces
so sharply that the drops struck like hailstones.
‘The only thing I fear,’ said Garbo to me, as we stood holding on by
the foremast, ‘is for the frigate’s boats. There will be no great
damage to anything else.’
Just as he spoke, a man beside us shouted, ‘A boat! a boat!’ and
looking forth ahead, we saw, clearly relieved against the whiteness
of a breaking sea, one of the frigate’s barges coming tossing down
upon us, while, almost at the same instant, a couple of dark sails
shot, as it were, like dusky shadows into the faintly lighted circle
around us, illuminated by the half-dozen lamps which, in imitation
of the rest of the fleet, we had fixed to different parts of the
rigging, and then in a moment, as the vessel which bore the canvas
rose upon the crest of a sea, we all recognised the long, low galley
which had laid the pearl boat aboard. She was flying along close
hauled to the wind, the white foam beating in showers over her long
dusky form, and sometimes over the two patches of sails which she
carried. The boat of the frigate lay right athwart her track. There
were two loud shouts from those in the boat and those in the sailing
galley, then, in an instant, a straggling volley of musketry was shot
by the former. The flashes illuminated the sea, showing the sharp and
carved prow, ending in a serpent’s head, of the adventurous craft,
and the grim faces of a cluster of men, who waved their hands and
shook axes and cutlasses at the Spanish boat. Then there was a sudden
order, in English, on board the galley, ‘Port! Hard a-port! and give
them the stem.’ The bows an instant fell off from the wind, lifted on
a sea, and crushed down upon the doomed boat, driving her under water
like an eggshell, while, with a loud hearty hurrah, the Buccaneer
swept past us, not three fathoms from our bowsprit, and, in a moment,
disappeared in the night.
‘A sail, close to astern,’ was at the moment sung out from the other
extremity of our craft.
‘Never mind the sail astern,’ shouted Garbo. ‘Here—ropes, oars,
anything—there is a boat swamped ahead, and as he spoke, there
appeared the wreck of the man of-war’s pinnace, with some of the men
clinging to it, and others striking out amid the sea, and shouting
lustily to us for help. A dozen of lines were flung to them at once,
while the fat negro leaped overboard, calling to the struggling
mariners to fear nothing. Wooroo never moved an inch during the
whole affair, except to shake his woolly head when a heavier shower
of spray than ordinary fell upon him. The Spaniards, who could most
of them swim well, soon scrambled up our low sides, none the worse
of their ducking. Not a man was missing, thanks to the aid of our
little pearl diver, who had made directly for the wreck of the boat,
and very dexterously lashed a couple of ropes round the only two of
the crew who, either by being stunned in the collision, or from the
bewilderment and suddenness of the whole affair, were clinging for
life to the shattered boat, without having in the least the power of
helping themselves. Such a scene of outcry, and swearing, and hubbub
of all sorts, as the Spanish man-of-war’s men made when they got
aboard, I never saw. They ran from end to end of the craft, shouting
out, in the darkness, after the vessel which had run them down;
roaring, by all the saints, that they would be revenged upon her,
and that when the frigate caught her, they would not leave a French
or English throat uncut on board. As for me, I deemed it politic to
chime in with these declarations—to the great amusement of Captain
Garbo, who was a very good fellow, and kept my secret like wax. When
we had a little settled down—the squall having also fallen, and the
sea getting smoother fast—the captain called for the man who had
reported the sail astern, and asked him what like she was?
‘Truly,’ said the mariner, ‘I can tell you not only what like she
was, but what she really was—the vessel being no other than the bark
which the Buccaneer laid aboard, and which no doubt she captured, for
both ships were lying the same course—one passing ahead and the other
astern of us.’
‘Ay,’ said the officer of the man-of-war, shivering in his cold wet
clothes, ‘it was the ship the scoundrels wanted, and there is no
denying but they have carried her off very cleverly.’
I was of the same opinion myself, and I could not but admire the
judgment of the Buccaneers in rowing into the centre of the sleeping
squadron, just before the outbreak of the squall, and then swooping
off with their prey, in the midst of the confusion which it created.
The weather soon cleared up. By midnight the stars were twinkling
forth, and the frigate having worked up near us, we hailed that the
crew of the pinnace were safe, and presently another boat coming on
board, carried them to their own ship. With the earliest peep of
the dawn I was at the mast-head of our bark. The fleet, with the
exception of the one spirited away, were riding at their stations.
The boats which had, yesterday evening, gone into the river with
their cargoes, were again standing out for the bank. The frigate lay
to windward—rising and falling on the froth-laced seas, with her
main-topsail flat to the mast—but elsewhere the ocean was sailless.
The Buccaneer and her prize, one of the largest and quickest vessels
of the fleet, had disappeared.
That morning, we began our proper business of collecting pearls, the
method of which I will briefly describe. First, the fat negro went in
the canoe to several points round about the vessel, diving into the
water at each, and thus finding where the shell-fish lay thickest.
This having been ascertained, he placed a small buoy upon the spot,
and the bark was warped up to it. The iron-basket, which I have
mentioned, was then let down to the bottom of the sea, the depth of
which was hereabouts nearly five fathoms, or almost thirty feet. Then
Wooroo and his comrade prepared for their day’s work, by stuffing
their ears full of the down of the cotton-tree, without which, or
some similar precaution, divers frequently become deaf. They anointed
their limbs, too, with some sort of vegetable oil, and then taking
the sinkers of lead, which I have spoken of, in their hands, they
poised their bodies, standing upon the gunwale of the ship, and
keeping time, as it were, to her roll, flinging back their arms and
shoulders, and breathing deeply, so as to puff out their broad chests
with air. Wooroo, while so standing, looked like a great black image
of Strength. At length they leaped simultaneously, making but one
splash, and as the water settled over them, we could see their black
forms wavering and quivering, as it seemed, owing to the motion of
the sea, and then presently clinging to the projections of rock, all
tufted over with green sea-weed—in the rifts of which the oysters lay
thick. As soon, however, as they began to tear up the latter from
their beds, the water became so much mudded that we could not remark
the process. In the meantime, we hauled up both sinkers, which the
divers had let go on reaching the bottom, and placed them on the
gunwale, all ready for the next plunge. The little man came up to the
surface first—puffing and blowing. There was a sort of broad-stepped
ladder, with three or four rounds, which was let down into the water,
and upon one of which he sat to rest, basking himself in the hot sun.
Wooroo did not appear at the surface, until I began to think that he
would never come up at all—and said as much to Garbo.
‘Drowned,’ said the good-tempered Spaniard; ‘that’s not the fate he
was born to. Caramba! that fellow’s lungs will hold as much air as
the biggest bellows that ever were puffed.’ And accordingly, after
an unconscionable space of time, the negro rose, and clung to the
ladder, his features appearing only a little swollen, and his vast
chest heaving a little faster, as the consequences of his plunge. As
soon as the basket was reported filled, it was drawn up and emptied
into the deep waist, and then let down again. In the course of the
day, another negro and an Indian, both expert divers, arrived from
the shore to help us, there being generally four divers to each boat.
Two cages were then let down together, and by nightfall, the bark had
half her cargo on board.
In consequence, however, of the bold attack of the pirate, or
Buccaneer, the captain of the frigate determined that all the pearl
fishermen should proceed together to the shore, and from thence back
to the banks, sailing in a squadron; and as the greater number of
the boats had their full cargoes on board, we all weighed anchor
in company, stealing in slowly for the shore, upon a smooth sea
glistening in the starlight. It was a fair spectacle that small
squadron, with their white sails just sleeping in the light breeze,
and with the great frigate, her huge lanterns shining over her poop
like sea-beacons, and now and then belching forth a sheet of red
spouting fire, as an admonition to any of the faster boats, which
might appear to be inclined to take the lead of the rest, not to
break the order of sailing. As we glided along, the crews of the
barks often sang in chorus, the music being re-echoed and reflected
as it were between the many sails spread out, until it appeared as
if hundreds of choristers were joining in the burden. About midnight
we crossed the bar of the Rio de la Hacha, the frigate remaining
outside, and presently anchored near the shore, in a shallow bay,
where the water was brackish. The land hereabouts is low and sandy,
with abundance of thin-stemmed, narrow-leaved herbage, and few trees.
The town is a mere assemblage of huts, kept up for the purpose of the
pearl fishery, and inhabited by the Indians, being principally old
men, women, and children, who open the oysters, under the constant
superintendence of watchful Spanish overseers, who are there to
keep a sharp eye upon the pearls. Notwithstanding all their care,
however, they are very often cheated, and the most valuable pearls
hidden and conveyed away. I had often opportunities while on board
the fleet, and ashore in the ranchiera, or village, of seeing the
process of opening the oysters. These were brought from on board the
barks in flat-bottomed barges to the shore, whence they are carried
in baskets, upon the heads of the Indians, to a sort of store-pit,
or receptacle, into which they are flung. Close to this deposit are
ranged a great many narrow tables, each of them consisting only of
two rough planks set upon trestles, and shaded overhead by a roof
of withered grass heaped upon hurdles. All along the tables, on
one side, are ranged great lines of the Indian slaves opening the
oysters, while upon the other side of the tables, stand the Spanish
overseers, there being one overseer to every dozen or so of openers.
When an Indian finds pearls, either of the large or the seed sort, he
shouts out, and his superintendent immediately goes up to him, and
takes charge of the precious substances, which he is bound in turn to
give to the chief superintendent, who registers their size and value
in an account book.
The slaves are principally fed upon the meat of the oysters, which
they prepare in a particular way, passing a string through a great
number of oysters in the manner of threading beads or decorations,
and then hanging the festoons thus made up to dry. They likewise
live upon manatee and the flesh of wild cattle, the ranchiera being
amply provided with hunters, whose business it is to supply such
stores. The slaves work from sunrise to sunset, with about three
hours intermission when the heat is the fiercest. They are a poor,
dogged, sullen-looking sort of people, with long straight black hair
and big cheek-bones. It is miserable to see them at their work,
crouching under the whips of the overseers, not daring to whisper to
each other nor to cease for a moment, but, bending down their heads
over the board, and, when they find a pearl, calling out in a low
whining tone to the overseer, who presently relieves them of it. I
have often, having found occasion to be sometimes on shore during the
day, sat upon a little sandy hillock, sheltered from the sun by a
sort of umbrella made of plaited grass, many of which the Spaniards
use, and gazed upon the scene. To seaward was the surf thundering
white upon the bar, and almost on the horizon the pearl barks, like
black specks, guarded by the big ship, as a little hamlet is by a
castle. On one side the river came shining down, amid a waste of
sand-banks and knolls, spreading out and slackening in its speed, as
it began to feel the near influence of the sea. On its banks vast
flocks of birds disported. The flamingos stood in red rows, drawn up
like soldiers. Great cranes waded in the shallow water, like men on
stilts. Ducks of many sorts flew by in long lines or in the shape
of wedges, with a brave old drake to lead the fleet; while small
water birds, which dive, floated upon the brownish river, sometimes
tipping down to the bottom with a saucy jerk of their spruce little
tails, and then coming up with a flutter and a quackle. By the
margin, fixed to posts and stakes, lay a fleet of canoes, and the
flat-bottomed boats which carried the oysters ashore; and here and
there, lurking among the sand-hills with his gun, you might descry
a Spanish sportsman, creeping along the shore to get a good shot at
widgeon or teal. Upon the landward side there stretched out in the
hot sun a wavy, sand-heaped shore, feathered here and there with a
palm, bending in the sea-breeze. The village, which was two or three
straggling streets of huts, built of wood and wattled branches, with
some roofs scattered here and there of tarred canvas, which sailors
call tarpaulin, supported upon stakes, boats’ masts, oars, and what
not, lay, as it were, roasting brown in the fierce glare of the
sun. A few black and stark-naked children played in the sand before
the doors, and a Spaniard or two, with their white linen jackets,
and broad straw hats, and red sashes tied round their middles, and
everlasting pipes of tobacco in their hands, would be sitting in the
shade, outside the long low hut which was the posada of the place,
drinking draughts of wine from gourds or cups made of cocoa-shells
mounted with silver, and playing cards or dice for shining dollars.
At one end of the village was a rude sort of fort, built of unhewn
stone, piled up and supported by a framework of stakes; it had no
cannon, but was loopholed for musketry, and was set all round with
sentry-boxes, in which Spanish soldiers dozed away the greater part
of the day and night. Above the ramparts or palisades, which were not
more than twelve feet high, and planted upon the roof of an inner
house, rose a flag-staff bearing the broad red and yellow banner of
Spain. In this fort, or stockade, lived the governor of the fishery,
the chief superintendent, and the captain of the convoy, when he was
ashore. All the pearls which were found were conveyed thither twice
a-day, and overseers were continually passing and repassing from the
great gate down to the opening tables, which stood in divers ranks
all round the central pit into which the oysters were flung. From
among those tables, half covered by their thin roofs of grass and
hurdles, and lined by the dusky rows of working slaves, continually
came the sharp crack of the whip, followed by a loud howl from some
poor wretch detected whispering to his neighbour, or pausing a moment
in his toil. Now and then an Indian would run hurriedly away from the
tables towards the village, that man having found and delivered up a
pearl above a certain weight, which entitled him to a holiday until
the next morning; while, again, perhaps a poor brown devil would
be walked off between a couple of the soldiers who attended at the
tables, and taken to the fort, there to be flogged to an inch of his
life for some offence given to the overseer of the board.
Such, then, is a true picture of the pearl ranchiera, on the banks of
the Bio de la Hacha. Meanwhile, days, and weeks, and at last months,
slipped away, and I found myself no nearer my design of getting on
board an English ship than when I left Carthagena. I went off every
day in the pearl bark, and many an anxious look I cast to windward
for a sail. One or two I saw, but at a great distance, and they did
not seem inclined to come nearer. Indeed, the frigate being put upon
its mettle by the recent attack, the governor of the fishery having,
as I heard, rated the captain soundly for not keeping a better look
out—the frigate, I say, was very vigilant, generally keeping to
windward of the fleet; and when we remained all night at our anchors,
burning blue lights and other fireworks constantly, and having all
her heavy boats, with their crews armed to the teeth, rowing guard
through and around the squadron, from sundown to sunrise, like
most vigilant watchmen. Thus I did not think it probable that any
privateer, excepting, indeed, a ship of great size, would dare to
attack a fleet so guarded. So I considered myself almost as much a
prisoner as when in the house of the Señora Moranté at Carthagena,
and with as little prospect of speedy release. I panted for the
sound of my countrymen’s voices again, and often and often did I
start from my sleep, dreaming I heard Stout Jem’s hearty talk, or
Nicky Hamstring’s cheery laugh. Thus I got downhearted and mopish
enough, and often thought of purchasing from Captain Garbo, for I was
not—thanks to my friends at Carthagena—penniless, the canoe belonging
to the bark, and taking my chance in her to run down before the
trades to the Samballas. Indeed, the unpleasantness of my situation
increased day by day. Although I spoke Spanish reasonably well, and
put great restraint upon my speech, so as never to drop a hint or
a word which might betray my secret, I saw that I was suspected,
and two or three times I thought it best to retreat as rapidly as I
could from the lowering brows and fishing questions which the crews
of the other barks, and sometimes the soldiers on shore, received
me with. At length, one evening, when, much against my own will,
I had accompanied Captain Garbo to the posada, so many hints were
dropped about ‘spies,’ and ‘sailing under false colours,’ and so many
interrogatories were put to me, touching the Spanish ships in which
I had sailed, and the ports from which they set forth, that I made
up my mind to take the very first opportunity of leaving my present
comrades. Captain Garbo, who being a good deal heated by wine, must
needs defend me with great warmth, and tell many lies in his zeal,
each lie being, as is generally the case, quite inconsistent with
the other, made the matter worse instead of better; and half-a-dozen
times, just as the talk was turning upon something else, he would
start up, and flourishing a knife in his pot-valiancy, would threaten
that any man who said I was not a good comrade and a good fellow,
should brook the stab. Now, among the company was one man to whom
I took a special dislike, because he encouraged Garbo with all his
might to defend me, at the same time dropping hints that I stood
in need of the utmost eloquence which my protector could exert,
and all the time slily laughing in his sleeve at both of us. This
man was a squat, broad-shouldered little fellow, with a greasy,
threadbare doublet, and a cunning-looking weasen face, lighted up
by two bright winking eyes. He never seemed to me to sit a moment
in the same position, but was always shifting about and fidgeting,
and speaking here and there, to almost every one at once. This man,
whom the rest called Señor Peralta, was, they told me, a merchant
who came hither every year at the pearl season to purchase pearls
of the chief officer of the fishery. He had a large half-decked
piragua of his own, and was accounted by the Spaniards as a very
adventurous and clever fellow; and being liberal with his money,
and always ready to treat the commoner sort of men, as well as to
sing merry songs, and crack merry jokes over his liquor, this Señor
Peralta was quite a great personage in the ranchiera. The evening of
which I am talking, I often observed his eyes fixed with an intent
look upon me, and once or twice, as I judged, he made a sign with
his hands, but what he meant I could not for the life of me divine.
Next day, some accident—what it was I forget—prevented Captain Garbo
taking his bark out to the bank, and so having nothing to do, I went
wandering, low-hearted enough, among the sand-banks and knolls of
grass down by the sea. At length, seeing a comfortable shade formed
by some thick bushes, which kept off the sun, but let the sea-breeze
whistle through, I sat me down, and began to think upon my project
of obtaining a canoe, and chancing the run to the Samballas. While I
was thus musing, I suddenly started to hear a voice near me singing
softly; and I started again, and a thrill of pleasure went through my
veins, when I recognised the words of the song for English. Almost
afraid that I was dreaming, and fearing to awake, I listened while
the musician, who appeared to lie concealed among the bushes behind
me, sang with a clear, lusty voice these verses, which I remembered
to have heard in the playhouses in London:—
‘Sir Drake, whom well the world’s end knew,
Which thou did compass round,
And whom both poles of heaven once saw,
Which north and south do bound.
‘The starres alone would make thee knowne
If men were silent here;
The sun himselfe cannot forget
His fellow-travellere!’
The song being ended, I turned hastily round, exclaiming aloud—‘A
countryman—a friend!’ And at the same time the bushes being rustled
aside, out of them popped the grinning face of Señor Peralta! I
staggered back with wonder, while the pearl-merchant called out, in
good English—
‘Truly a young bird, and to be caught with the veriest chaff! Why,
man, thou art a pretty dissembler indeed, when thou canst not hear
the butt-end of an old ballad of our country, without leaping and
bellowing like a moon-calf. I can tell thee, that had I been as
unwary, I should have danced from the end of a halter aboard yonder
frigate, long ago!’
By this time, I was recovered from my surprise, and running up to
Peralta, assisted him to scramble out of the bushes, beseeching him
at the same time to explain to me this mystery, and tell me what he
was. Before answering one word, however, he led me quite away from
the cover of the bushes, down to the seaside. ’Where I was hidden,’
he said, ‘another can hide—the open beach keeps safer counsel.’ Then
sitting down upon a great stone—the surf almost coming up to our feet—
‘I suspected you for an Englishman,’ quoth he, ‘the first day I saw
you. And last night I took the liberty of making myself quite sure.
I don’t think you liked the process. But I am an old hand in these
matters, and he must understand his business well, who makes me
believe falsely that what he seems he is. Now, just tell me candidly
how you came here, and perhaps I may help you to what I am pretty
sure you want, and that is a means of getting quit of our friends in
the ranchiera yonder.’
I acknowledged that he had divined my thoughts, as well as he had
penetrated my disguise; and so, in a few words, imparted to him some
outline of my story. He heard me out very attentively; and then says
he—
‘If I were you, I would go to Jamaica, and claim my property.’
‘What property?’ I said, in amazement.
‘Why,’ quoth he, ‘have you not heard of the fate of the Carthagena
galleon? She was taken two days’ sail from the coast by a privateer
schooner, which I understand to be no other than yours—the
Will-o’-the-Wisp. It was the richest prize that hath been captured
in these seas for many a year. The privateer sailed with her into
Port Royal, in Jamaica; and as you say that the captain is a
staunch-hearted fellow; and as Mr. Pratt, whom I know to be a very
honest gentleman, is concerned in the matter, I do not doubt but that
your share of the adventure, to which you are fully entitled, and
which must be very considerable, will be duly accounted for to you.’
This was great news indeed. I only lamented that I had not been on
board in the action, but the pearl merchant, who, it seems, had got
his information from those who had spoken with the mariners of the
galleon, after they landed on the main coast, being sent back in
their boats by the privateers—my pearl merchant, I say, told me that
the Spaniards having been boarded in the night, and when they were in
no posture of defence, had made next to no resistance, and that the
galleon had been very easily secured. Of course, this intelligence
made me doubly anxious to make my way to Jamaica, or to any port
where I could regain my comrades, and I eagerly asked my new friend
whether he could not put me in the way of getting thither.
‘Why,’ says he, ‘if I could not, I shouldn’t have made myself known
to you at all, but the truth is, that I need your services as a
seaman. I have got a very large decked piragua—you may see her
masts as she lies there in the river—in which I have, as I may say,
sailed the whole Caribbean Sea. This trip, however, I have been
unfortunate, having lost a very good fellow—a negro—my prime seaman,
who died about a month ago of the small-pox. I have but two men
slaves of my own left with me, and I was thinking where I could get a
good fourth hand, who knew somewhat about the sea, when fortune sends
you to my aid.’
I protested my willingness to serve him, and we had a long discourse
together. He told me that he was an Englishman by birth, but that his
father was a Spaniard and his mother a Frenchwoman. Thus, he said, he
had learned from his earliest youth, a smattering of all the three
languages, and having lived long in London, Paris and Cadiz, in after
years, pursuing his craft of a jeweller and goldsmith, he had very
little difficulty, when need was, in passing himself off for a native
either of England, France, or Spain. For some years back he had been,
he told me, sailing about the West Indies, trafficking in precious
stones and gold. He had no fixed place of abode.
‘Sometimes,’ quoth he, ‘I kneel very piously at mass, and make the
sign of the cross, in the great cathedral at Havannah—and then I am
as grave a Spaniard as the Cid. Again, I shall sing and dance at a
merry-making in Tortuga—and, there, credit me, I bear a heart as
light and as French as ever did the good king of Yvetot. Anon, I
shall drink and shout with our good friends, Archemboe, Davis, and
the rest at Port Royal, and not a bully of them all but shall swear I
am as bluff a Briton as jolly King Hal!’
I then intimated my hopes, that his trade so venturously conducted
was a profitable one.
‘As for that,’ quoth he, ‘what with my poor efforts in the New
World, and the exertions of my good correspondents at divers courts
in Europe, I thank the stars that there is more than one imperial
regalia the wearer of which oweth me more, perchance, than he will
ever pay. But I am not exacting. When a sensible man deals with
kings, if he does not get money, he can always have money’s worth.’
This speech the pearl merchant, or jeweller, delivered with
abundance of nods and winks and shrugs, as though there were many
meanings in it, out of which I was welcome to take my own. Then he
whispered—
‘If you would have gold cheap, know the miners. If you would have
pearls cheap, make much of the divers. Deal at the fountain—go to the
well-head—the well-head, my son!’
At this he laughed very complacently, and I thought it best to laugh
too, although for my life I could not fathom the meaning of the
riddling words which the man spoke, and which he accompanied with so
many expressive shrugs of the shoulders and grotesque leers, that I
was as much puzzled by what I saw, as by what I heard. All at once,
however, he broke off, and said, plainly enough—
‘Now we know each other sufficiently for the present. My time for
remaining in this oystery part of the world will be over in two or
three days, and I presume that you will have no objections to ship in
my piragua, and take the chances of the sea to Port Royal?’
Of course I engaged to be ready at a moment’s warning, and we were
about to part, when he said suddenly—
‘I have little to do this evening, and I suppose you have less. Come
and sup with me. Any one will show you the hut of Peralta, the poor
pearl merchant. Come at ten.’ These words he spoke with one of his
habitual leers and shrugs. I promised very readily, and then Señor
Peralta walked away demurely, counting his beads.
I lost no time in communicating to Captain Garbo that I had now
an opportunity of shortly getting a passage to one of the English
islands. He was very desirous to know how I had managed it; but upon
that head I would give him no satisfaction.
‘Well,’ quoth he at last, ‘so be it, Señor Lindsay; but I say, the
first time you and your comrades take a Spanish bark, be lenient to
my countrymen; be as merciful as you can to their goods and chattels
for the sake of old Manuel Garbo, the pearl fisher.’
At ten o’clock exactly I took my way over the sandy beach to
Peralta’s hut, which stood a little apart from the other buildings,
towards the landward extremity of the ranchiera. As I plodded along,
sometimes tripping over mounds of oysters; sometimes stopping to look
to seaward, where all the lights of the pearl squadron glimmered as
the fleet sailed towards the shore, I suddenly heard a loud outcry,
in which I could distinguish the yells of an Indian, and the gruff
voices of Spaniards high in oath, and who, I conjectured, from the
clash of arms, were soldiers. In a minute or two I saw faintly a
dusky group of people, whites and Indians, some of them carrying
lanterns, which gleamed on drawn swords and bayonets. The men bearing
them disappeared through the principal gate of the fort, and then
the Indians, who were left outside, raised the most pitiable cries
and howls, until they were threatened by the sentries, and told they
would be fired upon if they did not disperse. As I was somewhat late,
I did not stop to inquire into the cause of the tumult, but I judged
that it was probably occasioned by the arrest of an Indian who had
committed some crime; perhaps, as was very common, stolen or secreted
a valuable pearl. However, I did not think much of the matter, and
soon arrived at Peralta’s hut. It was a large house as compared with
most of its neighbours, fenced all around with walls formed of double
lines of strong tough stakes, the space between them being filled
up with stones gathered apparently from the sea beach. On knocking,
I was admitted by Peralta himself, who led the way into a small
room, with walls roughly built of wood and stone, through which the
starlight was shining at many cracks and crevices, and mingling with
the smoky glimmer of a great brass lamp. The place contained but the
most ordinary sort of furniture—a hammock hung in a corner, an oiled
bag for holding clothes, a table, and two or three small chairs, or
rather large stools. The table, however, was laid out for supper, and
showed a capital repast of fish, flesh, and fowl, while a couple of
flasks, with slim necks, and all cob-webbed and begrimed, as though
they had long lain deep in a well-stocked cellar, made a curious
contrast to the cracked crockery and wooden platters, and hacked and
broken knives and forks which lay beside them.
‘You see,’ quoth Peralta, ‘that, though I may have dealings with
kings, I don’t by any means live in a palace. There are idle vanities
and substantial vanities, my friend. Diamonds and pearls, laces and
gildings, brocades and velvets, are of the former class; but good
meats to eat, and good wines to drink, are of the latter. Now you see
I am an admirer of the substantial vanities. I love to feed upon the
daintiest morsel, though it be picked up with a broken one-pronged
fork, and I love to drink the choicest vintage of Rhine or Rhone,
without at all caring whether I put my lips to a golden cup which
Benvenuto hath wrought, or to a calabash which Quako hath scooped
before supper.’
So saying, the pearl merchant started the cork from one of the
flasks, and I tasted certainly the most delicious draught which ever
tingled on my palate.
‘Ha!’ quoth my entertainer, as I held out the empty cup to be
refilled, ‘you find that better than even the most skilful
compound of rye brandy and bilge water. _C’est bien alors_—you have
a palate, which I grieve to say many gentlemen of your kind and
profession possess not, preferring the hot strong drinks of Jamaica,
and Tortugas taverns, even, to such adorable nectar as this. Why,
man, hold out thy glass again, the grand Louis himself cannot fish
up a choicer flask from the most sacred crypt beneath the marble
pavements of Versailles.’
Talking in this way—relating to me strange anecdotes touching great
generals and statesmen, and even kings, with whom my host, to believe
his words, had held familiar converse, and the moral of all these
stories being, that the generals and statesmen and kings in question
were as stupid, and as easily to be gulled and laughed at, as mere
ordinary mortals—the supper and one of the wine flasks were soon
despatched. Then, placing the fragments in a corner, Peralta produced
a sort of purse or bag of filigree workmanship, in bright silver,
and which seemed to be the only thing of price in his dwelling—always
excepting the meats and wines—and taking from it some tobacco of most
delicate savour, we began to smoke and discuss the second bottle,
which was of a different kind from the first, the wine being of
a deep rich red tinge, and coming, as he told me, from Dijon, in
Burgundy.
While we sat thus, my entertainer took almost all the conversation
to himself. He spoke of things new and strange to me: of the crown
jewels of mighty potentates pledged to rich Hebrews dwelling in the
filthy back lanes of the cities of Europe—in the Jewry of London, the
Judenstrasse of Frankfort, and the Ghetto of Rome.
‘And your brave Christian goes past, stopping his nose for the
savours of fish fried in oil, and elbowing and jostling the
hook-nosed, shabby old men who make way, with many a ‘Give you good
e’en, my lord;’ and ‘Faugh!’ says he, ‘these stinking unbelievers;
why be they not packed bodily off to their holy city again’—and so
passes he by, to kneel, and cringe, and kiss the king’s hand; while
all the time—ha! ha! ha!—that very king is thinking and pondering in
his small mind how best he can squeeze the next subsidy out of his
faithful cities and towns, and so release the brightest jewel in the
regalia, now held in pawn by old Isaac, or old Jacob, or old Abraham,
the very dirtiest, raggedest, yellowest-skinned and hookedest-nosed
of the whole brotherhood—ha! ha! ha!’
The pearl merchant said this with so much gusto, and laughed with so
much glee, that I began to think he must be one of the fraternity
himself. He seemed to divine my thoughts, for, as if I had spoken
them, he, as it were, replied—
‘No, no, no! Señor Buccaneer, although I have much traffic with the
seed of Abraham, I am none of their kindred; were I such, I would be
wiser than to come here to live in a sty on this scorching coast,
driving hard bargains for sick oysters.’
My entertainer then went on with his stories of European courts,
and I was listening with open mouth, as he told, with many a quip
and many a sneer, how, under the guidance of one Chiffinch, he had
one night passed up the back stairs at Whitehall to hold a secret
interview with Louise de Querailles, since Duchess of Portsmouth,
touching certain jewels which it was convenient to raise money upon
until there should come a remittance from the court of Versailles,
through Monseigneur Barillon, the ambassador of Louis; when all at
once there came a loud rap, accompanied by a shrill whistle, at
the door. Peralta started quickly up, but without appearing at all
discomposed, and opening the door with speed, a handsome fellow, a
mulatto, dressed like a sailor, bounded in, exclaiming at the same
moment, in a loud whisper:
‘Juan and Blanco are both detected!’
Then seeing me, he stopped as suddenly as though he had been shot.
But Peralta speedily reassured him.
‘Go on, man; go on. He who standeth there is my friend; he is one of
us. Go on. Have they confessed?’
‘All,’ replied the mulatto. ‘They first told the truth, and then a
great deal more than the truth, in hopes the better to save their
necks. I squeezed in with them into the fort, and heard it all. The
soldiers are coming. I heard the order given.’
Peralta stood still for a moment, and then said hurriedly, ‘Doth it
blow?’
The mulatto replied, that there was a light air only, from the
eastward.
‘With the tide two hours on the ebb. That will do well. Disco is on
board the piragua?’
The mulatto nodded eagerly. Peralta turned to me—‘I suppose,’ quoth
he, ‘you have no objection to make a start of it this very hour?’
‘None, none,’ I replied; wondering with my whole soul at the meaning
of this strange scene.
‘Follow me, then, and do as I do,’ replied Peralta. He swallowed his
last cup of wine, and smiled when he saw me copying his example to
the letter. Then, blowing the lamp out, we all three sallied forth
into the night, walking quickly but cautiously amongst the scattered
huts. I knew that it was no time for questions, so put none, though
I was almost bursting with curiosity. In a minute or two we heard
the measured tramp of soldiers advancing, and presently the clash
of their arms and the gleam of their lamps burst forth together as
they marched round the corner of a small street, followed by a great
many Indians. There was a hollow place close by where we stood,
with ridges of oyster shells on either side. Into this Peralta sank
suddenly, flinging himself flat upon the ground, while the mulatto
and I followed his example. In a minute the soldiers marched by, with
their attendant rout of Indians gabbling and chattering very eagerly.
‘Now,’ quoth Peralta, ‘for the beach, and make as little noise as you
can in running.’
With these words off he set, going over the ground much faster than
to look at him I should have thought possible. However, the mulatto
and I kept close behind him, meeting nobody, although we heard a
distant tumult of voices in the ranchiera, and the tramp of people
running hither and thither. There were half a dozen skiffs and
canoes moored to as many stakes rising from a small slippery jetty,
and sheering backwards and forwards as the current of the ebbing
tide ran swiftly beneath them. Into the outermost of these skiffs
Peralta leaped as nimbly and steadily as if he had been a waterman
at Whitehall Stairs, we following closely upon his heels; but just
as we had, as by instinct, sat down to the oars, Peralta cried out
to us to hold, and then stepping back upon the jetty, very coolly
cast loose the painters of the whole of the remainder of the boats
from their fastenings, and gathering the ends of the ropes together,
as a coachman does his reins, he shuffled back again into the stern
sheets, casting off our moorings as he passed by, and then, with a
low chuckle to himself, we pushed off and rowed into the stream, the
squadron of boats following in our wake.
‘Pull away, my good fellows,’ Peralta then said, taking an oar out of
one of the skiffs behind us, ‘I will steer you.’ Our course was down
the stream, and we swept along very rapidly, while, looking back, we
could see, by the lights which came dancing all down the beach from
the houses, that the Spaniards were in hard pursuit. In a minute more
a cluster of these lanterns shone upon the jetty, and instantly their
bearers raised a clamour and shouting that all the boats were gone.
Señor Peralta only laughed to himself.
‘Well,’ he muttered in a moment or two, ‘it is a shabby way to leave
old friends, but needs must when the devil or an angry Spaniard
drives.’
All this time we were shooting swiftly down the river, the broad
surface of which, gleaming in the starlight, now began to heave and
undulate, as the swells of the sea, rolling over the bar, affected
it. As we pulled, Peralta, taking advantage of a great shout faintly
heard from the shore, hailed, ‘Disco! Disco, ahoy!’
A long shrill whistle was the reply, and, looking round, we saw the
low dusky form of the piragua, with her two high raking masts, and,
pausing on our oars, we heard the rush of the tide against her sharp
bows.
‘Disco is all awake,’ said Peralta, and in a moment more we were
alongside and tumbling into the piragua, which, notwithstanding her
very considerable size, was so light as to rock violently as, one by
one, we leaped over her gunwale.
Disco himself, a Mosquito Indian, as I judged him, appeared to have
been just aroused by the clamour on shore, and he asked eagerly what
the matter was.
‘The matter,’ said Peralta, ‘is, that we must get to sea as soon as
we can. Thank God the breeze comes fresher—that puff quite ruffled
the water. Jenipa,’ this was to the mulatto, ‘jump forward and cut
the cable—no time for weighing. Disco, get a sweep or an oar out on
the larboard bows to cant her head round. Lindsay, bear a hand, my
man, and get the canvas upon her, or some of our friends ashore will
be swimming down upon us with their knives in their teeth.’
The coolness of Peralta was capital to see. Just as Jenipa’s knife
went with a cheep through the strands of the hemp, Disco’s oar dashed
into the water, and the stream catching the larboard bows of the
piragua, she swung round with her head towards the shore we had just
left, while Peralta, who worked as though he had been afloat all his
life, flung loose the foresail from the long supple bamboo yard, and
then both of us clapping on to the haulyards with all our might, the
light canvas, all dripping with the night dew, rose steadily to the
top of the mast, and then catching the faint puff of the sea breeze,
which has but little power when it blows in the night-time, the sail
swelled gracefully out, while Peralta, with the sheet in his hand,
leaped aft, catching hold of the tiller, and calling to us all to
get the mainsail upon the piragua. We were, as the reader may guess,
in no humour for trifling, and accordingly the big lugsail was very
soon hoisted by rapid jerks, up the mast, and when, after having made
fast the haulyards, and trimmed the sheet aft, I paused a moment
and looked round, I was quite bewildered. The breeze was hardly
sufficient to keep the wide sails sleeping. I heard no loud rushing
gurgle, such as a vessel makes travelling fast through the water; yet
the lights upon shore were flying by us as though we were borne on
horseback towards the sea—the great white flakes and stripes of froth
which had floated into the river from the bar, glanced past, showing
like light veins and streaks in dark marble—while the skiffs which
Peralta had cut loose were almost out of sight astern.
I uttered an exclamation of wonder, at which Peralta laughed
pleasantly.
‘Your Will-o’-the-Wisp may be fast, Señor Buccaneer,’ he said, ‘but
no craft that ever came off the stocks of European ship-builders will
sail with the boats which the Indians—savages we call them—can scoop
with rude tools out of a single glorious tree. Do we not move like an
apparition—a sea spirit? Let the Spaniards chase us in their clumsy
wooden boxes, the piragua will earn her right to her name though all
the navy of Old and New Spain were flashing in her wake. I call her
the “Ghost;” does not she glide like one fleeting to the sepulchre at
the first glimpse of the light of the morning?’
I looked at Peralta, beginning to suspect that the sudden flurry,
coming after the humming wine, caused him to vapour a little—but, if
it were so, he very soon came to himself.
‘Hark!’ said Disco, ‘the surf on the bar.’
‘And see,’ added Jenipa, ‘the lights of the Pearl Fleet close to in
the offing.’
‘Forward, and look out, both of you,’ cried Peralta, sharply. ‘Keep
your eyes open on either bow.’
Meantime I crouched down by the steersman on the weather-quarter.
The lofty lights of the frigate were much further to sea than
the squadron she guarded. Indeed, the great ship cared not for
approaching too closely the many banks and spits of sand, which run
out from the bar, and over which most of the smaller barks could
float very well. The leading ships, however, appeared to be as close
to the bar on one side as we were on the other.
‘Now,’ said Peralta, ‘grant that the stupidity of those fellows on
shore will keep them from making any signal to their comrades out at
sea.’ But the words were hardly out of his mouth, when the water and
the sky were lit up with a mighty flash, and the loud report of a
great gun—a small battery of which was planted before the fort—came
rolling down the river; and immediately afterwards a straggling
volley of small arms rattled all along the bank, as though the
soldiers were dispersed and running down towards the sea. By this
time, the white water on the bar was close ahead.
‘Starboard—starboard. Keep her a little away, master, the channel is
on the lee-bow,’ cried Disco. The course of the piragua was altered
accordingly, and glancing ahead, I saw the streak of dark water,
leading to the open sea; at the same time that the fleet of pearl
fishers answered the alarm from ashore, by kindling torches, waving
lanterns, and shouting and blowing horns, just as they had done the
night that the privateer had swooped down in the centre of them, and
carried off one of the very best in his clutch. At this moment, we
having drawn clear of the sand hills on shore, the breeze freshened,
sweeping down the coast, heavy with the dew of the night air. The
light sails swelled stiffly out, the sheets tautened, the thin supple
masts swayed and creaked, and the few ropes which stayed them upon
the weather-side stretched out as rigid as iron-bars. And yet the
piragua flew by every swell which rolled in from the offing—not
plunging into the great green seas, and flashing the foam sparklingly
up into the air, but moving rather like a bird, which, with spreading
and far-stretched pinion, just glances over the sea, rather flying
than swimming—borne more by the winds than the waves. Truly, I had
never sailed in so wonderfully-fashioned a craft—so thin and slight
was her construction, that she appeared, as it were, to yield, and
bend, and quiver in the seas—but ever on, gaily and lightsomely,
she went, sliding, as it were, without noise and without shock,
leaping with a quick, buoyant, bounding motion, right over and over
the swells, which now, as the water shoaled upon the bar, began to
roll by us, white with milky foam. Verily, Peralta did well when he
likened his piragua to a noiseless gliding ghost.
While I was still wrapped in amazement at the performances of the
canoe, she was flying across the bar in the very midst of the fleet
of pearl fishers. The whole thing passed over me like a vision—a
dream of flashing foaming water, plunging and dripping ships, with
their canvas flapping, and their booms, and yards, and ropes,
creaking and moaning, and rattling together—of fierce, eager faces,
and hurrying, dusky forms, running on the decks, leaping into the
riggings, flashing their torches and lanterns; shouting, yelling, and
hailing the piragua and Peralta to lie to, and put about—and some of
them flourishing glimmering knives and firing pistols in the air.
All this, I say, appeared to pass by me like a vision, or a dream—and
it only lasted for a few brief moments—for the piragua, which was
steered in a fashion which made me look upon Peralta as a sailor
rather than a merchant, flew through the panic-struck squadron, who
could no more catch her, than they could the shadow of her tall
sails upon the water. Once, and once only, a heavy hook or grapnel,
attached to a stout line, was flung by a lusty arm, and lighted in
the piragua’s fore-rigging, but even before the rope had tightened,
Disco leaped to the spot, his knife flashed, the severed hemp fell
back into the sea, and the useless iron tumbled down into the bottom
of the canoe. The next moment we were fairly at sea, with the whole
of the squadron, save one or two loiterers, behind us. Just then the
frigate, who was a couple of miles or so in the offing, fired a heavy
cannon, and showed a number of lights, by which we saw swarms of men,
rushing from the high carved bulwarks into the rigging, as if they
designed to make sail in all haste.
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ laughed Peralta. ‘Here comes the elephant chasing the
weasel, and the elephant thinks that the best way to begin the race
is to roar a little.’
And, indeed, any attempt of the big ship to follow us would have been
just about as hopeless a chase as that to which Peralta had likened
it. So, after firing a few more guns, whether with shot in them or
not we neither knew nor cared, she stood cautiously in for the bar of
the river, sending her boats before her, as we conjectured, to learn
the cause of all the uproar. Meantime we had struck a light, keeping
the lantern, however, well masked, and then setting the head of the
boat about nor-nor-west, that being as near the wind as we could lie,
and at the same time make good way through the water, we trimmed the
sails neatly, and cried, ‘Northward Ho! for Jamaica.’
For about an hour, during which time little was spoken, Peralta
held the helm. He then called us all round him, and apportioned the
watches in the ordinary seaman fashion—I being placed with Disco,
and he taking his turn of duty with Jenipa. This settled, we tossed
up whose watch should begin first, and it falling to the turn of
Disco and myself, Peralta gave me the helm, instructing me, as I was
not well acquainted with the management of piraguas, to call him if
the wind freshened so much as to seem to demand the taking in of a
reef. Then creeping beneath the half-deck, which extended from the
bows to abaft the foremast, he coiled himself up along with Jenipa,
and the pair went very quietly to sleep. During our watch, which
was tranquil, I tried to obtain some information from the Indian
touching the habits and pursuits of his master, and also relating to
the causes of our very sudden departure. But the fellow, although he
would talk glibly enough upon the weather, or the piragua, or the
manner of our escape, was as close as wax as regarded everything
else. Indeed, he reminded me very truly that I ought to know more
about the reason of our departure than he, having come from the
shore, while he had been sleeping on board the piragua. At that I
told him what I had heard from Jenipa, about Juan and Blanco having
been detected and taken to the fort, where they had confessed not
only the truth, but, as I had heard, more than the truth. The
Mosquito man merely shrugged his shoulders, and said he could make
nothing of it, although I saw very well, by the intelligent look
of the fellow’s face, as the binnacle lamp shone upon his bronzed
features, that he understood much more of the matter than he chose to
confess. Finding I could make nothing of the Indian, I set myself to
consider the whole affair, and putting Peralta’s hints about the way
to get pearls cheap, in connexion with what I had actually witnessed
and heard, I was not long in arriving at the conclusion, that, in all
probability, for every pearl which the merchant bought of the captain
of the fishery, he obtained another, and at a very considerably
cheaper rate, by dealing quietly with the openers themselves, to
which class I concluded that Juan and Blanco must belong. This
solution of the riddle seemed the more probable, when I remembered
much that I had heard touching the great number of pearls supposed
to be secreted by the Indians, in spite of the utmost vigilance of
the Spaniards. Jamaica sloops had, I knew, ere now gone to hover
near the Rio de la Hacha, having their agents and correspondents, in
various disguises, lurking upon the coast, and of course keeping up
communication with the Indian divers and openers; but the adroitness
and courage shown by Peralta in living as a Spaniard openly amongst
Spaniards, and supporting the character of a regular pearl merchant,
communicating with the captain of the fishery, while in reality he
was driving the best part of his trade by underhand dealing with
the Indians, conducted, no doubt, at great and constant risk of
detection and death; all this inspired me with no small respect
for the abilities and the nerve of the owner of the piragua. Then
I thought with what cool generalship he had conducted the retreat,
not losing a moment by delay, yet taking his measures with as great
composure and deliberation as if he were departing upon a pleasure
cruise. Afterwards, I began to wonder that I had not observed him,
when leaving the hut, take with him the amount of pearls which I
felt sure that he must have amassed; but a few minutes’ reflection
convinced me, from the perfect unconcern with which he had walked out
of the hut, not caring to pick up any one article of those strewn
about, that all the valuables which he possessed on shore, he carried
constantly concealed about his person. Indeed, in the matter of such
costly toys as pearls, or precious stones, a man’s own garments
formed by far the safest depository to be found in the ranchiera.
While brooding over these things, the night passed silently away.
With the grey dawn, Peralta relieved me, and we crept in our turn
under the half-deck, and slept until the sun rose high into the
unclouded heaven, and the piragua was staggering along under reefed
canvas, bending over to the whistling trade-wind, and leaping from
sea to sea, like a hunted stag. During the day, little of note
occurred. Peralta avoided taking me further into his confidence, and
I had tact enough to see that I ought to refrain from seeming to
intrude upon his mystery. As I watched him, however, I often saw him
bite his thin lips, and wrinkle his forehead, and clench his hand,
as if distressing thoughts haunted him; and at last he broke out,
addressing nobody in particular, but speaking moodily to himself—
‘Those poor fellows!’ he cried, ‘those poor fellows Juan and Blanco—I
would give every pearl the venture hath brought that they were safe
and sound in this piragua. The Spaniards will hang them; nay, indeed,
it may have been already done, and their bodies are swinging in this
same sea-breeze!’
Here Jenipa interposed very respectfully, and said that no effort we
could have possibly made would have sufficed to rescue the Indians,
and that we had nothing to reproach ourselves with on that score.
‘No, no,’ said Peralta. ‘We could not have got them out of trouble;
but we have been the cause that they fell into it.’
He pondered for a minute. Then putting his hand into his bosom, he
drew it forth, the hollow of the palm filled with small pearls, all
glistening in the sun, like beads of frozen milk. Then he poured the
precious morsels from one hand to the other, the pearls pattering and
rattling like chips of shivered glass and pebbles, and began again to
speak, like a man who talks in his sleep.
‘Ay,’ he cried, ‘and you will sparkle in the coronets of nobles, or
mayhap you will rise and fall on the white bosom of some peerless
beauty across the western sea. Little will she think how her
braveries have been won. Little will she think that the gems of her
adornment are but as coagulated drops of human blood. Red, red, you
ought to be, and not of that lying virgin whiteness—red, red, you
ought to be, as the guilt of him who hath purveyed you, and the blood
of the hapless men who, ere now, are doubtless but as lumps of brown
carrion—only good to feed the vultures and the crows!’
At this, I observed Jenipa and Disco exchange curious glances with
each other; but Peralta, after musing for a short space further, put
the pearls back into their hiding-place, and resumed, to a certain
degree, his usual manner.
‘I doubt not,’ he said to me, presently, ‘but that your acuteness
hath taught you much of what last night you burned to know. The two
poor savages, of whom I spoke, were indeed my agents among their
brethren; and, thanks to their ingenuity and courage, many a rare
pearl hath come to my wallet, instead of the poke of their Spanish
task-masters. But all is over now. While I remained on shore, I
risked the danger borne by my confederates. Had it been within the
power of man to have saved them, I would have perilled limbs and life
to bring them off, but it fell out otherwise. What is writ, is writ.
Adieu, poor Juan and Blanco, and may you find the next world a better
one than this.’
Having pronounced this curious sort of funeral oration, Peralta
straightway resumed his former demeanour, and I never heard him
allude to the subject again. Meantime, we bounded merrily across
the ocean, masts bending, canvas swelling, and sheet and haulyard
cracking and straining; the blue heaven, with not a cloud to fleck
it, all a blaze of azure light and glory above, and the crystal sea
foaming, and tumbling, and gambolling beneath the swift piragua,
as, with dripping prow and polished sides, she tore away upon
her headlong course. My spirits, long drooping under captivity,
now came flushing back, sending the young hot blood tingling
through my veins. I leaped and danced about the piragua for very
cheery-heartedness—Peralta smiling slily at my antics—and sometimes
lifting up my voice, I sang an echoing chorus to the music of wind
and wave! ‘A day or two,’ I thought, ‘and I shall see, sleeping in
the smooth water landward of the Palisades, my gallant schooner,
which I love, and hear ringing from beneath her snow-white awning the
cheery voices of my old comrades, of Stout Jem, the true-hearted, and
Nicky Hamstring, the merry-minded!’
Alas! not so fast, Leonard Lindsay—not so fast! There are perils and
sufferings for you, by sea and land, ere you step upon English ground
again!