Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the Governor,
Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as usually
gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him--some, those
belonging to the _Good Samaritan_; others, those who hoped to obtain
benefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered around him
because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be of his court
and to be called his followers. For nearly always your successful
pirate had such a little court surrounding him.
Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain Morgan
informed them of his present purpose--that he was going to find the
Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon them to
accompany him.
With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the
street, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon one
hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for the
best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For whether
he had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him, or whether,
finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had buried
himself in some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers had
traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that he
was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither they
went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost coolness and
composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in at his heels.
The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and
by two large slatted windows or openings in the front.
In this dark, hot place--not over-roomy at the best--were gathered
twelve or fifteen villanous-appearing men, sitting at tables and
drinking together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no
trouble in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for
not only did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but
the Spaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of
finery than any of the others who were there.
Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto the
other replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man
could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn
replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost
him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and
presented it at the other's head.
At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, and
the Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about
his ears.
Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden
there was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and
then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one
stunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing
whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another
pistol-shot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that
his ears rang for above an hour afterwards. By this time the whole
place was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows and
oaths and outcrying and the clashing of knives.
As Master Harry, who had no great stomach for such a combat, and no
very particular interest in the quarrel, was making for the door, a
little Portuguese, as withered and as nimble as an ape, came ducking
under the table and plunged at his stomach with a great long knife,
which, had it effected its object, would surely have ended his
adventures then and there.
Finding himself in such danger, Master Harry snatched up a heavy chair,
and, flinging it at his enemy, who was preparing for another attack, he
fairly ran for it out of the door, expecting every instant to feel the
thrust of the blade betwixt his ribs.
A considerable crowd had gathered outside, and others, hearing the
uproar, were coming running to join them. With these our hero stood,
trembling like a leaf, and with cold chills running up and down his
back like water at the narrow escape from the danger that had
threatened him.
Nor shall you think him a coward, for you must remember he was hardly
sixteen years old at the time, and that this was the first affair of
the sort he had encountered. Afterwards, as you shall learn, he showed
that he could exhibit courage enough at a pinch.
While he stood there endeavoring to recover his composure, the while
the tumult continued within, suddenly two men came running almost
together out of the door, a crowd of the combatants at their heels. The
first of these men was Captain Sylvia; the other, who was pursuing him,
was Captain Morgan.
As the crowd about the door parted before the sudden appearing of
these, the Spanish captain, perceiving, as he supposed, a way of escape
opened to him, darted across the street with incredible swiftness
towards an alleyway upon the other side. Upon this, seeing his prey
like to get away from him, Captain Morgan snatched a pistol out of his
sling, and resting it for an instant across his arm, fired at the
flying Spaniard, and that with so true an aim that, though the street
was now full of people, the other went tumbling over and over all of a
heap in the kennel, where he lay, after a twitch or two, as still as a
log.
At the sound of the shot and the fall of the man the crowd scattered
upon all sides, yelling and screaming, and the street being thus pretty
clear, Captain Morgan ran across the way to where his victim lay, his
smoking pistol still in his hand, and our hero following close at his
heels.
Our poor Harry had never before beheld a man killed thus in an instant
who a moment before had been so full of life and activity, for when
Captain Morgan turned the body over upon its back he could perceive at
a glance, little as he knew of such matters, that the man was stone
dead. And, indeed, it was a dreadful sight for him who was hardly more
than a child. He stood rooted for he knew not how long, staring down at
the dead face with twitching fingers and shuddering limbs. Meantime a
great crowd was gathering about them again.
As for Captain Morgan, he went about his work with the utmost coolness
and deliberation imaginable, unbuttoning the waistcoat and the shirt of
the man he had murdered with fingers that neither twitched nor shook.
There were a gold cross and a bunch of silver medals hung by a
whip-cord about the neck of the dead man. This Captain Morgan broke away
with a snap, reaching the jingling baubles to Harry, who took them in
his nerveless hand and fingers that he could hardly close upon what
they held.
The papers Captain Morgan found in a wallet in an inner breast-pocket
of the Spaniard's waistcoat. These he examined one by one, and finding
them to his satisfaction, tied them up again, and slipped the wallet
and its contents into his own pocket.
Then for the first time he appeared to observe Master Harry, who,
indeed, must have been standing the perfect picture of horror and
dismay. Whereupon, bursting out a-laughing, and slipping the pistol he
had used back into its sling again, he fetched poor Harry a great slap
upon the back, bidding him be a man, for that he would see many such
sights as this.
But, indeed, it was no laughing matter for poor Master Harry, for it
was many a day before his imagination could rid itself of the image of
the dead Spaniard's face; and as he walked away down the street with
his companions, leaving the crowd behind them, and the dead body where
it lay for its friends to look after, his ears humming and ringing from
the deafening noise of the pistol-shots fired in the close room, and
the sweat trickling down his face in drops, he knew not whether all
that had passed had been real, or whether it was a dream from which he
might presently awaken.