A BRAVE DEFENCE.
When Carlo rushed away, an impulse to follow and see what was taking
place seized the three whom he left behind. A strange silence had come
over the castle. The moon was just rising and throwing a faint light
over the forest; but nothing could be seen save the tall palms and the
luxurious undergrowth in dark masses against the clear sky.
'Senorita, come here!' cried Catalina, hurrying to another window which
looked on the sea side of the castle; and as the two girls hurried after
her they beheld the bay below; not silent and calm as usual, but with
the pirate boats busily plying backwards and forwards towards the shore
lower down.
'What does all this mean, Catalina?' said Felipa, clinging to her nurse.
'Where is my father? And what did Andreas mean by coming to fetch
Carlo? What shall we do? Etta, are you frightened?'
Etta was braver than Felipa, but at the same time she understood better
the dangers of this attack; and yet she had heard so decidedly, and felt
sure Carlo also believed, that Santa Teresa was too well fortified to be
taken by assault, that this sudden call from Andreas was a mystery to
her.
'I don't understand what can be the matter. Catalina, let me run down to
the courtyard: I will be but a few minutes, and I shall find some one
there who will tell me. Pedro is always kind to me, and he will tell me
all he knows.'
'But the pirates,' cried Felipa--'if they come they will kill you! No,
no; stay with us. Come away, Catalina, and let us bolt ourselves into
our room.' And the girl tried to drag her nurse away from the window.
But Etta smiled.
'I tell you, Felipa, the pirates cannot come into this place. It would
take months to force a passage through the walls, and the gate is too
well guarded. I will run down and ask Pedro what Andreas meant.'
Catalina would have liked to go herself, but did not know how to leave
Felipa, who was sobbing from fear of she knew not what horrors. Yet
poor Felipa, as she crouched near the window with her hand in that of
her nurse, could not help admiring the courage of her English
playfellow.
'Carlo admires Etta because she is brave,' she said to Catalina; 'she
never thinks of danger for herself. I would so gladly not be afraid,
but I cannot help it.'
'Never mind about being brave, my darling; that is for men and not for
girls. What would the men have to do if we women were as bold as they
are themselves? You see, the Senora Etta is English, and the people in
her country are not as civilised as we Spanish folk. Dry your beautiful
eyes, dearie, and don't be frightened. The noble Marquis will soon be
returning, and then we shall find out that he has trapped all these
wicked robbers, and that not one remains alive.'
Thus comforting her much-loved young lady, Catalina soon forgot her own
fears till quite five minutes had passed away without the reappearance
of Etta. What could the girl be doing? And why was there suddenly such
a silence about the place? Catalina would not have been so brave had she
known the truth or witnessed the assault that was now taking place at
the gate of the outer wall.
When Etta ran down she was surprised to notice how few of the garrison
could be seen. The loopholes from which poisoned arrows could be shot
were deserted; the entrance to the council-room and the arsenal also
remained unguarded. She could make nothing of it, so she had wrapped
her dark mantle round her head and shoulders hoping to escape notice;
but, to her great astonishment, none of the usual servants seemed to be
about. She now hastened to the door that led into the courtyard. It
stood open and the soft night air blew in.
'Pedro!' she called softly; but no porter answered. Even the Indian
slaves were gone. Etta's curiosity was now fairly awakened. It could
not be possible that the castle was deserted, and that she and Felipa
were forgotten by every one!
'Carlo!' she cried louder, 'Andreas! Pedro!' No answer, and the girl
stepped out into the courtyard and walked a little way down to the
second gate. Then sounds indeed reached her ears: the clashing of
swords, the loud tones of angry voices, the waving of torches, and the
shrill whoops of Indians, mingled with many fierce English oaths.
There was no longer any doubt: the enemy, by some means, which of course
Etta could not understand, had forced the passage leading over the ditch
to the great gate, and were now between that and the inner courtyard,
where, as Etta knew, no one remained to defend the gate of the castle
itself. Her first impulse was to rush back and fly to some safer place;
but so frightened was she that she felt hardly able to move; and at that
moment, gazing at the small mass of struggling beings, she saw Carlo at
the head of some dozen Indians barring the way before a far larger
number of the enemy. This glance showed her also the form of the
English lad; so much slighter and so much fairer of face than any about
him that she could not mistake him as the torchlight fell on him.
'Carlo! Carlo!' she cried in her agony. No sound came back in answer
but the yells and cries of the two parties; and with the instinct of
helping her dear Felipa she at last found strength to turn away from the
terrible sight and to fly back to the gate and so up the stairs, and as
she ran she called out, 'Shut the gates: they are coming! They will
soon overpower our people. Quick, make haste! Pedro, where are you?'
And still repeating these words, Etta dashed into the dwelling-room,
looking so excited and pale that there was no longer any doubt that the
worst had happened, as she exclaimed, 'We are lost! The castle will be
taken! What can we do?'
Nor had brave Etta been mistaken. When Andreas had come to fetch Carlo,
the faithful Indian had just discovered that the path known only to Don
Estevan del Campo and a few of those in authority had been betrayed.
Before he could do more than collect the few slaves and soldiers left in
the castle, and station them at the entrance to the weakest portion of
the wall, fetch Carlo as described, and with the mere handful of men
then available make a brave stand, the chief gate of the castle was
really taken. Andreas little knew that all his valour was useless; but
it was otherwise with Carlo, who, as he threw himself into the _melee_,
was conscious that no bravery could really be of any use. Indeed the
attack on this side was but a ruse, for another body of men were quietly
making their way to the principal gate of Santa Teresa, and were now
being let in by one of the Marquis's officers, whom he had easily
persuaded that a desperate encounter with these pirates would only
result in their all being taken prisoners, and most likely killed.
It was Andreas who suddenly discovered the treachery, and, not
understanding the real meaning of the extraordinary events which were
taking place, now shouted to those about him that there was yet time to
stop the entrance of those rascals.
In this rush Carlo was accidentally thrown down, and in falling his knee
struck against a rocky projection, so that for a few seconds he lost
consciousness. When he came to himself he tried hard to struggle to his
feet, for he beheld at this moment a boy suddenly spring over the wall
and come hastily towards him. Carlo heard the confused noise of the
assailants and defenders, who had passed on and left him, so that he now
found himself alone with a lad of about his own age, whom he had
previously seen, and who was doubtless Henry Morgan's son.
Clenching his teeth, and grasping his sword, he tottered to his feet.
'Rascal! infidel! son of a pirate!' cried poor Carlo, not caring what
names he bestowed. 'You may kill me, but I will sell my life dearly.
You at least shall not come further. Go and tell your father that Carlo
del Campo will not be a party to any treachery.'
Carlo threw himself on the tall fair Englishman, and would have dealt
him a blow which would have been serious had not his injured knee proved
at this minute so painful that he missed his aim, and once again fell on
the ground. In a moment the supposed son of Henry Morgan was kneeling
by the brave Spanish lad.
'Hold, sir,' he said, surprised at some English words that had fallen
from Carlo, 'you are mistaking me. I am no pirate, and will never draw
my sword in such an unlawful business. I am but a poor prisoner, though
kindly treated, and my name is Harry Fenn.'
As he said these words Harry stooped down to pick up Carlo's sword,
which had rolled away from him as he fell, and gently gave it back to
the brave youth, who once more struggled to his feet, still blind with
rage and disappointment.
'How can I believe you? That is a false story, some new treachery; no
one who is with these robbers can be trusted. Stand to it, fellow, or
yield to mercy; for you go no farther!' And, regardless of Harry's
explanation, Carlo once again prepared to attack his enemy; but he was
made more furious at seeing that his supposed foe was not even trying to
defend himself.
'Stand to it, base scoundrel, and draw your sword if you have any spirit
at all; or, by St. Teresa, I must fall upon you!'
Still Harry Fenn remained motionless. 'If you will not believe, it is
no fault of mine. I have vowed to use no weapon during my captivity--at
least in an unlawful cause.'
Carlo dropped his hands, for this speech spoke more than weapons. A
true knight could not fall upon an unresisting foe; but it was a deep
disappointment to find Harry was no pirate.
'But, indeed, Senor, let me help you back to the castle. Captain
Morgan's men are by no means particular, and might unintentionally hurt
you, though they have sworn to use no violence nor to fire at any one
this night.'
'It is true, then, and you know it?' said Carlo, blushing with shame.
'This attack is all a farce, and our men are even now letting the
pirates into the castle--is it not so? Tell me all you know.'
'It was the suggestion of the Governor; but I pray you make haste from
hence, or you may repent of it,' said Harry, wishing the young Spaniard
would retreat into the castle now, for he certainly was in considerable
danger.
'And I am Don Estevan del Campo's son,' murmured the unhappy boy. 'Is
it true that you are none of them? If so, I will accept your help; for
my knee hurts me much, and I must get back to my sister.'
With some unwillingness Carlo put his hand on Harry Fenn's arm, and in
spite of what had just taken place a sudden wave of sympathy seemed to
flow between them; each felt that among the crowd of fierce men they
seemed to be both of them sadly out of place.
The central gate was now deserted; the pirates and the defenders had
both disappeared; so the two lads found no difficulty in entering
unperceived by a side door into the castle itself.
'You are witness that I have never surrendered,' repeated Carlo several
times, afraid, in spite of Harry's kindness, that a trap was being laid
for him.
Harry almost smiled as he answered in the affirmative, adding:
'But how is it you talk English, Senor? Yesterday I could not make
myself understood; and had I known you understood my language I would
have spoken out.'
'My father wished us to learn it. Here, this way; follow me, sir. I do
not know what has happened to the garrison, but I fear I cannot fight
with this horrid pain. Our men have outrun their fears.'
The two now crept silently up a back way, avoiding the entrance-hall,
where, from the sounds that rose toward them, it was not difficult to
guess that the pirates were intent on refreshing themselves with what
good things Santa Teresa could provide, and making up for the privations
of the previous day and night by a carousal.
When Carlo limped up to his sister's door, he found it strongly
barricaded within, and it was some time before Catalina could be
persuaded to open it and admit him. Then her exclamations knew no end.
'Senorito! where have you been? And who is this young serpent?' she
added, looking at Harry; but as she spoke in Spanish he did not
understand her, though he noticed her look of disgust.
'Hush! Catalina, where is my sister? and Etta? Have you heard no news?
Everything is lost, and this place is in the hands of the pirates. This
youth was the same one Etta saw. He is a prisoner, he says. If so, he
is a fellow-sufferer; and just now he behaved with much courtesy.'
'Come in, then, and let me bar the door once more. Oh, the noise those
wretches have been making. It is as if all the demons were walking
below. My poor Felipa is well hidden in that cupboard, and I made Etta
go there too. Alas, alas, that I should be alive to hear such things!
But, anyhow, they must kill me before they touch her. My _cara_ Felipa!
I believe she will die of fright.'
Harry Fenn stood by during this conversation, much perplexed at all he
saw; for he did not understand that the Marquis had not acquainted his
son with his treacherous surrender. His surprise was still greater when
in another moment Etta, hearing Carlo's voice, appeared out of the dark
cupboard where Catalina had insisted Felipa and Etta should hide, when
on the return of the latter she had understood that something
extraordinary was happening.
'Carlo, tell us--but, oh, who is this? The English lad? Are you
Captain Morgan's son? No--it cannot be; for then you would not be here,
nor would you look so kind.'
'You were right, Etta; this English lad is a prisoner, and has kindly
helped me up here; otherwise I should be still lying under the wall, or
perhaps I might now be killed by those wretches.'
Harry Fenn was delighted at finding himself face to face with a
countrywoman of his own. It seemed almost a miracle to be in a room
again--a room which spoke of civilised and refined life, and which
contained an English girl; for there was no mistaking her nationality,
though she immediately informed him of the fact.
'I knew you were no robber when I saw you come to the castle. I am an
English girl, and a prisoner here.'
'Etta, what foolish talk!' said Carlo. 'As long as I am here you are no
prisoner.'
'But tell me how you came to be with that dreadful Henry Morgan,' cried
Etta, much excited.
By this time Catalina, having gathered that Harry was no enemy, thought
that he might be hungry, and brought out some bread from a cupboard; and
the poor fellow fell upon it with such evident hunger that Etta's heart
was touched, and she continued to talk to Harry.
'Those wicked men have, then, starved you?' she asked, as Carlo, having
had his knee bandaged by Catalina, went into the large cupboard and
tried to persuade Felipa to come out, for at present there was no
visible danger.
'Not more than were all the others; the men all share and share alike;
and when we were on the marsh, with the rain falling upon us, we were in
such a bad plight that the men began to grumble finely at Captain
Morgan; indeed, if a body of Spaniards had appeared at that moment we
should never have reached this place. I can tell you Captain Morgan was
glad enough to get the Governor's letter; but he laughed in his sleeve
when he found his threats had been taken in earnest, for they were but
bravado.'
'Oh, hush! don't tell Carlo all this,' said Etta quickly; 'he is so
brave and good, and wished to go out this morning against them. But the
place must have been betrayed, I think, for all said it could never be
taken.'
'Ay, so it was, young mistress; and, now I see it contained such brave
people and one of my own countrywomen, I am sorry enough; but before, I
was right glad, for we suffered a great deal. Yet I ought to be used to
suffering, for all this is nothing to the grief I had when these men
kidnapped me from my home. And never a word have I been able to send to
my parents that I am alive and well; for they take care I get no chance
to speak with any passing ship.'
'But mine were killed,' said Etta, feeling as if she had known Harry a
long time. 'It is five years since I have been a captive here. You do
not know, I dare say, that this island was in the hands of pirates at
that time. There was a Sieur Simon ruling it for the pirate Mansfelt,
who was, they said, never happy except at sea. But the Governor of
Costa Rica determined to take back Saint Catherine, and when the pirates
heard this they sent to ask help of the English Governor of Jamaica, for
he was said to sympathise with them. He refused, and pretended to have
nothing to say to them; but he hired a merchant ship, as if for honest
trade, and fitted it with stores, and put in some of the pirates that
found shelter in Jamaica, and gave them and the captain private
instructions. My father, who was an honest merchant, never knew of
this; and, wishing to take my mother and me to Costa Rica, took passage
in this same ship, but on nearing the island the Sieur Simon came aboard
and begged the crew to sail into harbour. Yet it was all a wicked
device, for the Spaniards had already possession of the island; so that
when we landed we were all seized and taken prisoners. My father and
some of the others defended themselves bravely, but they were
outnumbered before our eyes, and were killed. Mother and myself were
brought to one of Don Estevan del Campo's fortresses, and she died of
grief there after some weeks. Then the Marquis said I was to be treated
well, for he wished me to become the playfellow to his daughter and son
who were coming here shortly, so that I might teach them English. Before
her death my mother gave me letters and directions, telling me if ever I
could get back to my relations in England I was to do so. But how can
I? We are indeed both alike prisoners, and I see no chance of getting
away.'
Harry listened to Etta's story with much surprise; it made him see that
after all he was not the only English sufferer even in these distant
islands, and that others had had a much worse fate--for he had been well
treated.
'But they are kind to you?' he asked, glancing at Carlo, who, having
persuaded Felipa to come forth from her hiding-place, was sitting with
his arm round her near the window and telling her of his meeting with
the English youth.
'Kind? Ah, yes. I love Carlo and Felipa dearly, and old Catalina is
not harsh; but I am afraid of the Marquis; I can never love him, for he
looks upon me as one of his slaves.'
'He must be a false Spaniard, a feeble scoundrel, and no true
gentleman,' said Harry decidedly, and then in a few words he told his
own story, and how, in spite of being such a favourite with Captain
Morgan, he had sometimes much to bear from the rough men. At this
moment, however, Carlo jumped up and exclaimed:
'There is my father returning, and, gracious saints, he is a prisoner!'