THE ISLAND ELDORADO
DeNortier now allowed me to come and go upon the ship as I chose; only
the ever present Herrick dogged my footsteps every minute of my waking
time, and dutifully locked me in at night. I was at a loss to account
for this sudden liberty; perhaps the pirate thought that he was now in
his own dominion; perhaps he no longer feared me, and so allowed me
this much of freedom. I knew not the reason, nor did I ponder over it,
so long as he allowed me to roam the decks unmolested.
It was on the fourth day after we had parted from the little vessel on
which Steele and the maiden had left us, that I heard the watchman on
the mast call, "Land! Land!" It was about seven in the morning when I
heard the cry, and hastily dressing myself, I rushed on deck. There to
the west of us, loomed up what appeared to be an island, and a couple
of hours' time brought us to it.
It was a beautiful spot; any sort of land would have been welcome after
the long, weary voyage, but such a land as this was doubly so. Long,
feathery trees fringed the water's edge; tropic flowers, wondrous,
many-hued, bloomed everywhere; strange birds, their plumage gorgeous
and brilliant, flitted from tree to tree, and filled the air with their
songs; fruits, luscious and tempting, hung from the trees and lay upon
the ground; everywhere profusion and plenty seemed to reign.
No wonder that this lovely spot had been chosen by the pirate for his
home; such a place as this was an earthly paradise, with the needs of
existence already supplied. The climate was soft and balmy, and though
it must have been about the middle of November, the air was as warm and
pleasant as a May morning.
The voice of DeNortier sounded at my elbow: "Welcome, Sir Thomas!
Welcome to Eldorado!"
"And so this is Eldorado?" I said. "Long have I searched for Eldorado;
I had not looked to find it here."
"Fate plays us many strange tricks," he answered, his eyes upon the
island.
"Where is this Eldorado?" I inquired.
"It is near the coast of Cuba," he answered, "which is only a few
leagues distant. I discovered it several years ago on one of my
expeditions. It is safe and pleasant, out of the track of stray ships,
and here, when home from my voyages, I reign as though I were a king."
The ship had fired a culverin some moments ago, and now, in answer to
the signal, a long canoe put off from the shore and came rapidly toward
us.
We watched it come forward in silence, and as it drew nearer, I saw
that the men who filled the boat were the wild Indians, like the savage
Manteo, whom I had seen in London--and yet not like him. Like him
in the bronze color of their skin, in their black, glittering eyes,
and long, coarse hair; yet not like him, for they wanted the rugged
strength of his face, wanted the martial pose of his bearing and the
freedom of his glance.
They were not clad in skins, as had been Manteo, but wore jerkins
of some cotton material, their legs and arms bare. Upon their feet
were fastened light sandals. Evidently, by their countenances and
deportment, they did not belong to the warlike tribes which roamed the
virgin forests of Virginia, but were a gentler type of that race.
In a few minutes their light boat touched the ship, and one, who seemed
to be the leader, ran forward to where DeNortier stood, and dropping on
one knee, spoke some words in a soft tongue which I did not understand.
The Count answered him in the same language, and turning to me, told me
that I might go ashore.
"One thing, Count," I said, detaining him as he turned to leave, "when
am I to recover my sword? I am strangely ill at ease without the
tapping of the blade against my knee, and care not to go among yonder
barbarians without a weapon."
He looked at me in some surprise. "Thy sword? Of what use is a sword
to a captive? Swords are for the free. As for yon Indians, thou couldst
drive them before thee with a lash. But thou shalt have thy sword upon
one condition. Give me thy word of honor as a gentleman that thou wilt
not attempt to escape while upon this island, and thou shalt be free to
come and go as thou dost please."
I pondered a moment. Escape was not possible, even should I break forth
from my prison, for the boundless ocean stretched between me and land.
So he should have my word of honor for the present; should a favorable
opportunity for escape present itself, I could retract my word.
"Thou shalt have my word of honor for the present," I said. "Should I
see proper to change my mind, thou shalt be informed."
A sardonic smile was upon his face. "Dost thou think that I am a child,
to bring thee here, and then let thee escape? Suit thy own fancy; when
thou seest fit to retract thy promise, I shall secure thee well. As for
thy sword--Francis! come hither."
The priest, who had hovered near during this brief conversation, drew
closer to us.
"Go into my cabin, and bring my gold-hilted Toledo blade," DeNortier
commanded.
The rogue turned, and walked toward the cabin. In a few minutes he
returned, bringing with him a splendid gold-hilted sword.
The Count took it from him, and drawing the long, bright blade from its
sheath, turned to me with a bow.
"Allow me to present thee with this sword in lieu of thine own, which
was unfortunately lost the night thou wert brought on board. It is of
the finest steel, and, I am sure, could be in the hands of no more
gallant gentleman."
I bowed in reply, as I took the sword from him.
"I thank thee," I said, "and hope that it will not be dishonored in my
hands."
"I am sure it will not," he answered. "But it is time that we were
on shore," and he walked forward to where the canoe lay. Together we
descended the ladder and stepped into the boat.
The natives bent their muscles to the task; the paddles flew, and the
canoe passed rapidly through the water to a spot which seemed suited
for landing, and where a little throng of the Indians, both men and
women, together with a few of the pirates, awaited us.
The canoe grated upon the beach, and treading our way through the
crowd of Indians, who stood with bent heads as we passed by, we took a
well-beaten path which led through the trees, and after about fifteen
minutes' brisk walking turned a corner and passed into a broad, level
savannah, carpeted with long luxuriant grass.
A long, low building stretched to the left, rough and unpainted; while
to the right there arose a splendid mansion, many-windowed, with broad,
white pillars--stately and magnificent it stood, looking like a pearl
among swine.
The Count noticed the surprise depicted upon my face.
"Be not dismayed," he said. "It is but my poor home; for though shut
off in some sense from the world, I yet manage to enjoy some of the
good things of the flesh. The world has contributed to my comfort and
the furnishings of yonder house. Italy has given us of her sculpture
and painting; England, our furniture and tapestry; Spain, our wine
and goblets; from Venice have come our carpets and tableware; the
Netherlands have given us linen and clothing; from Portugal have come
our gold and silverware. I have managed to make my brief stays here not
unpleasant. Yonder is the barrack for the men," he said, pointing to
the rough, unfinished building, which stood to the left.
As we came nearer to the mansion, one of the Indians, detaching himself
from the group of servants on the steps, ran forward to greet his
master. As he reached us, he caught DeNortier's hand and carried it to
his lips, crying out a few words in the same musical language which the
native who first came aboard the vessel had spoken.
The pirate answered in the same tongue, and turning to me, said:
"Thou seest that I have something human in me after all; these poor
dogs worship the very ground that I walk upon."
Resuming our steps, we passed on into the house. When within, I stood
amazed at the elegance of its furnishings; the floor carpeted in
some soft material into which the feet sank as we walked; the walls
covered with elegant tapestry; the chairs and other furniture, massive
and splendid; on pedestals stood the choicest statuary of the masters
of Italy; from the walls there hung paintings, costly and exquisite;
and the perfume of sweet-scented flowers filled the rooms. Wealth and
culture seemed to reign supreme.
This might be the palace of some noble in far-off England or Spain,
a man of wealth and refinement, but not the home of a reckless,
blood-thirsty pirate, devoid of conscience or soul, his head resting
insecurely upon his shoulders--for so unmerciful and terrible had been
the cruelty of DeNortier that, if captured by any civilized nation, his
neck would pay the penalty of his crimes. No wonder I was amazed.
The Count had thrown himself upon a velvet couch, which stood near the
center of the great room into which he had led me. Stretching out his
hand he touched a little silver gong, which stood upon a pedestal near
his elbow. A soft-footed attendant stood noiselessly in the doorway. A
word in that same unknown language, and the servant disappeared.
A moment later he reappeared, a bottle and two goblets in his hand.
Drawing up a small table, he pushed another soft couch opposite me as I
stood gazing around the room, and silently passed out of the apartment.
"Be seated, sir," the Count said. "Drink one glass with me. This wine,"
he continued, filling a golden goblet and holding it up to the light,
"was intended for his Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain. I took it
from a galleon near the coast of Cuba, a year ago, after a bitter
fight. Little thinks his Majesty that to-day we drink it." And he
poured a glass for himself, his goblet matching mine.
"Come, Sir Thomas, let us lay aside all enmity for a few brief moments,
and drink one glass together. I give thee a toast which thou canst not
refuse," he cried, rising to his feet, and holding out the glass at
arm's length--"Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England!"
[Illustration: "Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England"]
"The Queen!" I rejoined, rising. "May her glory never wane or fade!"
"Amen to that," the pirate said, and we both sank back upon our couches.
"Where, pray, didst thou find these rich treasures which adorn thy
mansion? If all be of the same quality as the wine we have just drank,
thou art well named King of Eldorado."
He glanced around the room before replying, and then answered, speaking
slowly and clearly:
"Some of these things I took from vessels upon the seas; some I
obtained when I raided the South American coasts, the spoils of
monasteries and cathedrals; some I bought in Europe and sent in
merchant vessels, which I met as I did the 'Betsy' and transferred to
my own ship. It has been the work of several years, but it is well
worth the price. Some day, when I tire of war and bloodshed, I shall
come back here, and pass the remainder of my life in this lovely spot,
with the song of the bird and the odor of the rose. Allow me to fill
thy glass." And he poured me out another goblet, and refilled his own.
"And now as we talk," I said, "what of myself? Of what advantage am I
to thee? Why not release me and let me go back to England?"
"Release thee? No; my dear sir, not yet. Did I not give up a Spanish
maiden, a jewel of the West, to have the pleasure of thy company?
Wouldst thou deprive me of it so soon, and bought with such a price?
Cruel! Cruel!" and he laughed again.
"But of what advantage am I here to thee? I am not gold; thou canst not
melt me into shining coin."
"No," the pirate answered, looking at me narrowly, "I cannot melt
thee--but there are other things. I offered thee a place beneath me, to
be my right-hand man----"
"Which I refused," I interrupted. "Dost thou take me for a child, one
day to refuse an offer, the next to accept it? I credited thee with
more wisdom."
A dark look had spread over the sea rover's face, accentuating the thin
lips and dark overhanging brows. His eyes glittered; he reminded me of
a snake as it rears back to strike its victim.
He spoke thickly: "Thou canst not say that I have not done my best to
save thee from thy own folly. Join me, thou art safe; refuse me----"
and he shrugged his shoulders. "Thou hast powerful enemies, wouldst
thou refuse an ally?"
He had drank several glasses to my one. Twice, during our
conversation, had the soft-footed native replaced with full bottles the
empty ones upon the table, as DeNortier finished them.
I waited until the Indian disappeared before I spoke.
What meant the pirate, when he said powerful enemies? Might not this
explain my abduction and detention in this place? I would see whether
he would not say more, under the generous influence of the wine.
"Is that so?" I answered. "I know not what thou meanest by powerful
enemies; such a thing as that might change my resolution."
But he would not be drawn out. Evidently alarmed by what he had said,
he arose unsteadily from the couch.
"Think on what I have said," he replied, as he turned toward the door;
"perhaps thou mayest yet come with me." And turning a deaf ear to all
my endeavors to detain him, he walked out of the door, bidding me
remain where I was.
I still reclined on the couch after DeNortier had passed out of the
room. I was tired, my limbs ached, and the wine had produced a pleasant
torpor which sapped my energy.
What meant the pirate when he said that I had powerful enemies? Could
it be that my father or Richard had taken this method to get me out of
the way? Not my father, certainly; he hated me, it is true, but he was
too much of the aristocrat to stoop to such work as this. He had cast
me off forever, but what motive could he have for condemning me to the
life of an exile? No; whoever it was behind the scene, it could not be
my father.
Richard, then? It was more like him, for he had always been wont to do
his dirty work under cover of darkness, and was none too good for such
a trick. But where was the motive? He was the eldest son; the estate
and title would fall to him at my father's death; he stood near my
father's heart, while the old lord despised me. Why should he wish to
do this deed, which might come to light and ruin him? No, I did not
think it was Richard. He would have put a dagger in my back, and so
been rid of me, once and forever. He would never have had me kidnaped
and carried out of England.
There only remained the Viscount James Henry Hampden. It might be that
his was the master hand that worked the wires; but I could not believe
he would do such a deed. He might wish to get so dangerous a rival out
of the way, but why in such a manner as this? He was a soldier; would
it not be more likely that he would have picked a quarrel with me, and
fought it out as a gentleman? But there came to my mind the threat he
had made, that Margaret should be his in spite of Heaven and Hell.
Rumor had it that he had done strange deeds in the Low Country--things
that would not bear the light of day. Tales were told of a house in
which some Spanish prisoners were confined, which was burned by his
command, cooking them alive in its ruins.
Yes, it might be his work. At the thought I ground my teeth together,
and my hand sought the hilt of my sword. There was no one else I could
think of who had any motive for keeping me out of England. I would keep
my eyes open, and perhaps the plot would thicken; in the meantime I
would watch and wait.
Woe to whomsoever had done this deed; for whoever it was, I would never
rest until I had punished him. The world was too small to hold both of
us; one must pass out should we meet face to face. With these thoughts,
I caught up my hat, and walked out upon the broad veranda.
Without, dusk was just beginning to fall. The men were struggling up
from the vessel bringing their booty, the spoils of the ships they had
rifled, and their rude songs floated up to me. The natives, men, women,
and children, were running to and fro, their arms loaded with small
articles.
A little apart from the men stood a small group, composed of DeNortier,
Herrick, Francis, and one of the Indians. Even as I looked, they
separated--the Count and the Indian going toward the barrack, Herrick
going down the path toward the landing place, and the priest coming
toward me.
As he drew nearer I could see his fat, evil face, with its watery eyes,
looking like some bloated monster of the deep. He called to me as he
drew closer, the habitual leer upon his face:
"How does my lord stand the fatigue of his travel? I trust that he has
not been greatly inconvenienced by our rude accommodations."
I answered calmly, having my own reasons for not angering the man;
perhaps he knew something of the plan to detain me here, and who stood
behind it.
"Not greatly fatigued," I said, "and yet tired. Come inside and have a
glass of the wondrous wine of the Count."
The pale eye lit up, his tongue protruded from his lips, as I have seen
a dog's at the sight of a bone, and he glanced hastily around him. Only
a few men were in sight, busy at work around the barrack.
Coming nearer he spoke in a low voice: "I will take one glass with
thee, noble sir; only one glass, to celebrate thy safe arrival."
"Come into the house, then," I said. Retracing my steps to the room
which I had just left, I threw myself upon one of the divans, motioning
him to take the one opposite.
He did so, at the same time catching up the bottle of wine from the
table and looking at the seal. A smile broke over his face, as he saw
the rich amber fluid.
"The wine of the King of Spain!" he cried. "How camest thou by this?"
"The Count opened it," I answered. "Drink!" And taking the bottle from
his unwilling hands, I poured out a brimming glass.
Catching it up, he put it to his lips; then held out the empty glass to
me.
"Wine!" he cried, "that warms the cockles of the heart as old age
creeps on; that turns life's cheerless existence into gold. Wine, the
curse of youth; the friend of middle life; the staff of old age--the
great alchemist that turns the dull, gray hours into sunshine. Ah, I
drink to him who first discovered wine!" And he drained the second
goblet, though somewhat slower than the first, as if to taste each drop
of the precious fluid.
Upon finishing this glass, a thought seemed to strike him, and he held
up the golden goblet to the light; for while we sat, the same noiseless
servant lit the candles that stood in the golden candelabras which hung
upon the walls, and the great room was bathed in a flood of light.
"Ah! this goblet," the priest resumed, "well do I remember it; taken
by the impious son of Holy Church from the Cathedral at Cartagena. I
implored, but my anguish availed nothing." And the great tears rolled
down the fat cheeks of the rascal, whose face was fast settling into
the cunning of intoxication.
The two great goblets he had drunk in rapid succession--and I surmised
that he had been celebrating before now the safe return of the
vessel--had almost overcome him. Although his head was like a stone,
from constant, excessive drink, yet even a stone can be worn away by
continual dripping.
His eye rested on my goblet which I had not filled, for I needed a
clear head to pump the rascal. Suspicion struggled for a moment upon
his face.
"Why dost thou not drink?" he said. "It is nectar for gods and men."
"Thou forgettest," I replied, "that I have already drunk with
DeNortier, and my head will stand no more at present."
Suspicion died out of his eyes, and in its place there appeared a look
of gentle merriment.
"Ah! you boys! You boys!" he chuckled. "Wait until thou hast reached
my years; then thy head will be stronger; thou wilt learn wisdom."
Solemnly shaking his head, he poured another brimming goblet and slowly
drank it down.
"Such trinkets as these," he went on, still holding the massive goblet
in his hand, "should belong to the faithful servants of Mother Church,
to reward them for their constant prayer and vigil," and he fetched a
great sigh, that caused the very candles on the wall to flare. "See the
carving upon the sides of the goblet--a miter and robe. Who knows that
I may not wear the miter?" His face brightened at the thought, and he
looked at me inquiringly, a drunken smile upon his face.
"A miter would surely become so pious a man," I said, "who spends his
days and nights in vigil and fastings."
His head had fallen to one side; his red cheeks shone in the
candlelight; the bald pate; the hair white around the edges; his
cassock ruffled and disheveled--surely he was a sight to make the gods
weep.
I judged that the moment was ripe to broach the subject. I looked
cautiously around--not a soul was in sight but the drunken priest. I
leaned forward.
"Why not?" I said. "Why not? My uncle, thou knowest, is an
Archbishop, a few words spoken in his ear by one whom he loves, and
presto--Francis, Bishop of the Holy Catholic Church!"
I leaned back and watched the effect of this announcement upon him. A
look of avarice replaced that of drunken wisdom, and bending, he placed
his head upon his hands, looking up at me. His eyes swam with the
liquor he had drunk. I saw plainly that he was hesitating. He sat thus
for a moment; then looking at me broke the silence:
"Sayest thou so? Would I had known this before; rather had I burnt my
right hand to the stump, than to have helped to bring thee here," and
he broke into sobs, the tears running between his fingers and mingling
with the little puddle of wine upon the table. "My last chance gone,"
he gurgled, "gone!--gone!"
"No," I continued, still watching narrowly his face, "thou hast only to
say one word, and the place is thine."
"What?" he cried, looking up, a smile swiftly replacing the tears. "But
no; promises are easy to make, hard to keep. How do I know that thou
canst fulfill that which thou dost now promise?"
I hesitated; the time had come for me to play my last card. Months
before, I had found one night on the streets of London a ring, large,
peculiar, strange, with a miter carved upon the soft gold. I had
carried it to a jeweler, thinking that I might possibly find the owner.
He, being a Catholic, and high in the church councils, had told me that
it was a ring of state of some bishop; whose he did not know. I had
kept the ring, not finding the owner, and now drew it from my finger,
where I had worn it, holding it out to Father Francis.
He took it in his fingers, and gazed at it. A look of amazement came
over his face, and he looked up, the ring still in his hand.
"What is it that thou wouldst ask? I will answer it," he said, bending
nearer to me, our heads almost meeting over the table, his flushed face
touching mine.
"Who is it that is at the bottom of this plan to kidnap and detain me
here?" I asked.
He would have answered--a moment of hesitation--he opened his mouth,
and I bent forward eagerly to catch the answer.
Suddenly a look of horror came over his face; he was gazing up, the
expression upon his countenance such as I have seen in the eyes of a
bird, charmed by the baleful gaze of a snake.
The voice of DeNortier at my elbow broke the silence. "My dear sir, I
object to thy asking such pointed questions," he said.
I arose to my feet, and turned around. DeNortier, sober now, stood near
me, a look of almost devilish anger upon his face. Near him stood the
grim Herrick, sword in hand. They had entered the room just in time to
scatter my plans to the four winds--just at the moment when victory was
in sight.
"And so thou didst think to wring my plans from my servants," the
pirate continued, his face white with rage. "Thou didst try all thy
art upon me, and I, unsuspecting, almost fell a victim. Then when thou
failed on me, thou attempted to pick from yonder drunken sot the secret
of thy detention. This is the work of a gentleman."
"And so is that of a jailer," I replied, angered at the gibe. "It is
the work of a gentleman to kidnap a man, struck senseless in the street
by one of thy ruffians, and detain him here against his will. I count
it no sin to fight the devil with fire," and I drew my sword, and stood
on guard.
He drew his sword also, and for a moment I thought that he would cross
with me, but he hesitated--then sheathed it.
"Another time, sir," he said. "Believe me, it is only for important
reasons, which I cannot explain, that I do not satisfy thee now. Ah!"
he said, as I laughed aloud in scorn, "thou dost laugh. It is an old
saying and a true one, that 'He laughs best who laughs last.' Have no
fears, I will satisfy thee, but the time is not yet ripe. Herrick, take
yon drunken sot out of here."
The sailor strode to the door and called. At the sound two natives
entered. He motioned to the priest, who had fallen asleep upon the
table, and whose stentorian snores shook the very goblets. Picking him
up between them, they carried him out of the door.
The Count stood looking at me after the priest had been removed from
the room; the anger had died out of his face, and a look of grim humor
had replaced it. Finally he spoke:
"It was a fortunate thing for thee, Sir Thomas, that I came in when I
did; a little more, and thy head would have rested on an uneasy pillow."
But I was tired; tired of the enigmas and puzzles; tired of wearying
my brain with unfruitful guessing. I cared not whether he laughed or
frowned, so I merely inquired whether my room was ready, and made known
my wish to retire.
"Certainly," he answered, and touching the silver gong again, he spoke
to the native. Then turning to me he said, "José will show thee thy
room. Good-night, and pleasant dreams," and with a bow he threw himself
upon the great couch.
"Thanks," I answered.
Following the Indian, I was shown up a noble stairway, through the
splendid hall into a large room, where my guide left me, after lighting
the candle in a great silver stick, the spoil of some cathedral, I
doubted not.
As he went out, I heard the key turn in the lock, and I was left alone.
I glanced around the room. It was furnished like the one downstairs;
was smaller certainly, and had a bed instead of the luxurious couch.
I walked over to the window, through which beamed the splendid tropic
moon, and drawing aside the curtain, I saw that the window, the only
one in the room, had an iron grating over it. I was fastened in
securely, no doubt of that.