IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN SEES A CROSS, CHERISHES A HOPE, AND MAKES A
CLAIM
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These noble and generous words of the Viceroy put such heart into the
young Spanish soldier that, forgetting his wounds and his weakness, he
rose to his feet. Indeed, the blow that struck him down had stunned him
rather than anything else, and he would not have been put out of the
combat so easily had it not been that he was exhausted by the hardships
of those two terrible days through which he had just passed. The
terrific mountain climb, the wild ride, the fierce battle, his consuming
anxiety for the woman he loved--these things had so wearied him that he
had been unequal to the struggle. The stimulants which had been
administered to him by his loving friends had been of great service also
in reviving his strength, and he faced the Viceroy, his hand in that of
Mercedes, with a flush of pleasure and pride upon his face.
Yet, after all, it was the consciousness of having won permission to
marry the woman whom he adored and who loved him with a passion that
would fain overmatch his own, were that possible, that so quickly
restored him to strength. With the realization of what he had gained
there came to him such an access of vigor as amazed those who a few
moments before had thought him dead or dying.
"But for these poor people who have so suffered, this, my lord," he
exclaimed with eager gratitude and happiness, "hath been a happy day for
me. Last night, sir, on the beach yonder, I found a mother. A good
sister, she, of Holy Church, who, rather than carry the ladders which
gave access to the town, with the fearful alternative of dishonor as a
penalty for refusal, killed herself with her own hand. She died not,
praise God, before she had received absolution from a brave priest,
although the holy father paid for his office with his life, for Morgan
killed him. To-night I find, by the blessing of God, the favor of your
Excellency and the kindness of the lady's heart--a wife."
He dropped upon his knees as he spoke and pressed a long, passionate
kiss upon the happy Mercedes' extended hand.
"Lady," he said, looking up at her, his soul in his eyes, his heart in
his voice, "I shall strive to make myself noble for thee, and all that I
am, and shall be, shall be laid at thy feet."
"I want not more than thyself, Senor Alvarado," answered the girl
bravely before them all, her own cheeks aglow with happy color. "You
have enough honor already. You satisfy me."
"Long life to Donna de Lara and Captain Alvarado!" cried old Agramonte,
lifting up his hand. "The handsomest, the noblest, the bravest pair in
New Spain! May they be the happiest! Give me leave, sir," added the
veteran captain turning to the Viceroy. "You have done well. Say I not
true, gentlemen? And as for the young captain, as he is fit to stand
with the best, it is meet that he should win the heart of the loveliest.
His mother he has found. None may know his father----"
"Let me be heard," growled a deep voice in broken Spanish, as the
one-eyed old sailor thrust himself through the crowd.
"Hornigold, by hell!" screamed the bound buccaneer captain, who had been
a silent spectator of events from the background. "I missed you. Have
you----"
The boatswain, mindful of his safety, for in the hurry and confusion of
the attack any Spaniard would have cut him down before he could explain,
had followed hard upon the heels of Alvarado and de Tobar when they
entered the fort and had concealed himself in one of the inner rooms
until he saw a convenient opportunity for disclosing himself. He had
been a witness to all that had happened in the hall, and he realized
that the time had now come to strike the first of the blows he had
prepared against his old captain. That in the striking, he wrecked the
life and happiness of those he had assisted for his own selfish purpose
mattered little to him. He had so long brooded and thought upon one
idea, so planned and schemed to bring about one thing, that a desire for
revenge fairly obsessed him.
As soon as he appeared from behind the hangings where he had remained in
hiding, it was evident to every one that he was a buccaneer. Swords were
out in an instant.
"What's this?" cried the Viceroy in great surprise. "Another pirate free
and unbound? Seize him!"
Three or four of the men made a rush toward the old buccaneer, but with
wonderful agility he avoided them and sprang to the side of Alvarado.
"Back, senors!" he cried coolly and composedly, facing their uplifted
points.
"My lord," said Alvarado, "bid these gentlemen withdraw their weapons.
This man is under my protection."
"Who is he?"
"He I told you of, sir, who set me free, provided Donna Mercedes with a
weapon, opened the gate for us. One Benjamin Hornigold."
"Thou damned traitor!" yelled that fierce, high voice on the outskirts
of the crowd.
There was a sudden commotion. A bound man burst through the surprised
cavaliers and threw himself, all fettered though he was, upon the
sailor. He was without weapon or use of hand, yet he bit him savagely on
the cheek.
"Hell!" he cried, as they pulled him away and dragged him to his feet,
"had I a free hand for a second you'd pay! As it is, I've marked you,
and you'll carry the traitor's brand until you die! Curse you, whatever
doom comes to me, may worse come to you!"
The old buccaneer was an awful figure, as he poured out a horrible
torrent of curses and imprecations upon the traitor, grinding his teeth
beneath his foam-flecked lips, and even the iron-hearted sailor,
striving to staunch the blood, involuntarily shrank back appalled before
him.
"Senor," he cried, appealing to Alvarado, "I was to have protection!"
"You shall have it," answered the young soldier, himself shrinking away
from the traitor, although by his treason he had so greatly benefited.
"My lord, had it not been for this man, I'd still be a prisoner, the
lady Mercedes like those wretched women weeping in the streets. I
promised him, in your name, protection, immunity from punishment, and
liberty to depart with as much of the treasure of the Porto Bello plate
galleon, which was wrecked on the sands a few days ago, of which I told
you, as he could carry."
"And you did not exceed your authority, Captain Alvarado. We contemn
treason in whatsoever guise it doth appear, and we hate and loathe a
traitor, but thy word is passed. It will be held inviolate as our own.
You are free, knave. I will appoint soldiers to guard you, for should my
men see you, not knowing this, they would cut you down; and when
occasion serves you may take passage in the first ship that touches here
and go where you will. Nay, we will be generous, although we like you
not. We are much indebted to you. We have profited by what we do
despise. We would reward you. Ask of me something that I may measure my
obligation for a daughter's honor saved, if you can realize or feel what
that may be."
"My lord, hear me," said the boatswain quickly. "There be reasons and
reasons for betrayals, and I have one. This man was my captain. I
perilled my life a dozen times to save his; I followed him blindly upon
a hundred terrible ventures; I lived but for his service. My soul--when
I had a soul--was at his command; I loved him. Ay, gentlemen, rough,
uncouth, old though I am, I loved this man. He could ask of me anything
that I could have given him and he would not have been refused.
"Sirs, there came to me a young brother of mine, not such as I, a rude,
unlettered sailor, but a gentleman--and college bred. There are
quarterings on my family scutcheon, sirs, back in Merry England, had I
the wit or care to trace it. He was a reckless youth, chafing under the
restraints of that hard religion to which we had been born. The free
life of a brother-of-the-coast attracted him. He became like me, a
buccaneer. I strove to dissuade him, but without avail. He was the
bravest, the handsomest, the most gallant of us all. He came into my old
heart like a son. We are not all brute, gentlemen. I have waded in blood
and plunder like the rest, but in every heart there is some spot that
beats for things better. I divided my love between him and my captain.
This man"--he pointed to his old master with his blunted finger, drawing
himself up until he looked taller than he was, his one eye flashing with
anger and hatred, as with a stern, rude eloquence he recited his wrongs,
the grim indictment of a false friend--"this man betrayed us at Panama.
With what he had robbed his comrades of he bought immunity, even
knighthood, from the King of England. He was made Vice-Governor of
Jamaica and his hand fell heavily upon those who had blindly followed
him in the old days, men who had served him and trusted him, as I--men
whose valor and courage had made him what he was.
"He took the lad I loved, and because his proud spirit would not break
to his heavy hand and he answered him like the bold, free sailor he was,
he hanged him like a dog, sirs! I--I--stooped for his life. I, who cared
not for myself, offered to stand in his place upon the gallows platform,
though I have no more taste for the rope than any of you, if only he
might go free. He laughed at me! He mocked me! I urged my ancient
service--he drove me from him with curses and threats like a whipped
dog. I could have struck him down then, but that I wanted to save him
for a revenge that might measure my hate, slow and long and terrible.
Not mere sudden death, that would not suffice. Something more.
"Treachery? My lord, his was the first. I played his own game and have
overcome it with the same. D'ye blame me now? Take your treasure! I want
none of it. I want only him and my revenge! Liberty's dear to all of us.
I'll give mine up. You may take my life with the rest, but first give me
this man. Let me deal with him. I will revenge you all, and when I have
finished with him I will yield myself to you."
He was a hideous figure of old hate and rancor, of unslaked passion, of
monstrous possibilities of cruel torture. Hardened as they were by the
customs of their age to hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, the
listeners turned cold at such an exhibition of malefic passion, of
consuming hatred. Even Morgan himself, intrepid as he was, shrank from
the awful menace of the mordant words.
"My lord!" shouted the unfortunate captain, "give him no heed. He lies
in his throat; he lies a thousand times. 'Twas a mutinous dog, that
brother of his, that I hanged. I am your prisoner. You are a soldier. I
look for speedy punishment, certain death it may be, but let it not be
from his hand."
"Think, senors," urged the boatswain; "you would hang him perhaps. It is
the worst that you could do. Is that punishment meet for him? He has
despoiled women, bereft children, tortured men, in the streets of La
Guayra. A more fitting punishment should await him. Think of Panama, of
Maracaibo, of Porto Bello! Recall what he did there. Is hanging enough?
Give him to me. Let me have my way. You have your daughter, safe,
unharmed, within the shelter of her lover's arms. The town is yours. You
have won the fight. 'Twas I that did it. Without me your wives, your
children, your subjects, would have been slaughtered in Caracas and this
dog would have been free to go further afield for prey. He coveted your
daughter--would fain make her his slave in some desert island. Give him
to me!"
"Old man," said the Viceroy, "I take back my words. You have excuse for
your betrayal, but your request I can not grant. I have promised him to
Alvarado. Nay, urge me no further. My word is passed."
"Thank you, thank you!" cried Morgan, breathing again.
"Silence, you dog!" said the Viceroy, with a look of contempt on his
face. "But take heart, man," he added, as he saw the look of rage and
disappointment sweep over the face of the old sailor, "he will not
escape lightly. Would God he had blood enough in his body to pay drop
by drop for all he hath shed. His death shall be slow, lingering,
terrible. You have said it, and you shall see it, too, and you will. He
shall have time to repent and to think upon the past. You may glut
yourself with his suffering and feed fat your revenge. 'Twill be a meet,
a fitting punishment so far as our poor minds can compass. We have
already planned it."
"You Spanish hounds!" roared Morgan stoutly, "I am a subject of England.
I demand to be sent there for trial."
"You are an outlaw, sir, a man of no country, a foe to common humanity,
and taken in your crimes. Silence, I say!" again cried the old man. "You
pollute the air with your speech. Take him away and hold him safe.
To-morrow he shall be punished."
"Without a trial?" screamed the old buccaneer, struggling forward.
"Thou art tried already. Thou hast been weighed in the balances and
found wanting. Alvarado, art ready for duty?"
"Ready, your Excellency," answered the young man, "and for this duty."
"Take him then, I give him into your hands. You know what is to be done;
see you do it well."
"Ay, my lord. Into the strong-room with him, men!" ordered the young
Spaniard, stepping unsteadily forward.
As he did so the crucifix he wore, which the disorder in his dress
exposed to view, flashed into the light once more. Morgan's eyes
fastened upon it for the first time.
"By heaven, sir!" he shouted. "Where got ye that cross?"
"From his mother, noble captain," interrupted Hornigold, coming closer.
He had another card to play. He had waited for this moment, and he threw
back his head with a long, bitter laugh. There was such sinister, such
vicious mockery and meaning in his voice, with not the faintest note of
merriment to relieve it, that his listeners looked aghast upon him.
"His mother?" cried Morgan. "Then this is----"
He paused. The assembled cavaliers, Mercedes, and Alvarado stood with
bated breath waiting for the terrible boatswain's answer.
"The boy I took into Cuchillo when we were at Panama," said Hornigold in
triumph.
"And my son!" cried the old buccaneer with malignant joy.
A great cry of repudiation and horror burst from the lips of Alvarado.
The others stared with astonishment and incredulity written on their
faces. Mercedes moved closer to her lover and strove to take his hand.
"My lords and gentlemen, hear me," continued the buccaneer, the words
rushing from his lips in his excitement, for in the new relationship he
so promptly and boldly affirmed, he thought he saw a way of escape from
his imminent peril. "There lived in Maracaibo a Spanish woman, Maria
Zerega, who loved me. By her there was a child--mine--a boy. I took them
with me to Panama. The pestilence raged there after the sack. She fell
ill, and as she lay dying besought me to save the boy. I sent Hornigold
to her with instructions to do her will, and he carried the baby to the
village of Cuchillo with that cross upon his breast and left him. We
lost sight of him. There, the next day, you found him. He has English
blood in his veins. He is my son, sirs, a noble youth," sneered the old
man. "Now you have given me to him. 'Tis not meet that the father should
suffer at the hands of the son. You shall set me free," added the man,
turning to Alvarado.
"Rather than that--" cried Hornigold, viciously springing forward knife
in hand.
He was greatly surprised at the bold yet cunning appeal of his former
captain.
"Back, man!" interposed the Viceroy. "And were you a thousand times his
father, were you my brother, my own father, you should, nevertheless,
die, as it hath been appointed."
"Can this be true?" groaned Alvarado, turning savagely to Hornigold.
"I believe it to be."
"Why not kill me last night then?"
"I wanted you for this minute. 'Tis a small part of my revenge. To see
him die and by his son's hand--A worthy father, noble son----"
"Silence!" shouted de Lara. "Art thou without bowels of compassion, man!
Alvarado, I pity thee, but this makes the promise of the hour void. Nay,
my daughter"--as Mercedes came forward to entreat him--"I'd rather slay
thee with my own hand than wed thee to the son of such as yon!"
"My lord, 'tis just," answered Alvarado. His anguish was pitiful to
behold. "I am as innocent of my parentage as any child, yet the
suffering must be mine. The sins of the fathers are visited on the
children. I did deem it yesterday a coward's act to cut the thread of my
life but now--I cannot survive--I cannot live--and know that in my
veins--runs the blood of such a monster. My lord, you have been good to
me. Gentlemen, you have honored me. Mercedes, you have loved me--O God!
You, infamous man, you have fathered me. May the curse of God, that God
whom you mock, rest upon you! My mother loved this man once, it seems.
Well, nobly did she expiate. I go to join her. Pray for me. Stay not my
hand. Farewell!"
He raised his poniard.
"Let no one stop him," cried the old Viceroy as Alvarado darted the
weapon straight at his own heart. "This were the best end."
Mercedes had stood dazed during this conversation, but with a shriek of
horror, as she saw the flash of the blade, she threw herself upon her
lover, and strove to wrench the dagger from him.
"Alvarado!" she cried, "whatever thou art, thou hast my heart! Nay, slay
me first, if thou wilt."