When Roger next opened his eyes he was at a loss to to recall
immediately to mind the preceding events; nor could he for the moment
imagine where he might be.
He was in great pain from the wound in his head, received on board the
Spanish ship which he and Harry had boarded together, and this served to
bring his memory back to what had occurred.
He remembered rushing with Harry down a dark alleyway, with cutlass in
hand, and also that a man had suddenly sprung at him and cut him down;
that he had received so violent a blow on his head that he had felt
certain his skull was cloven asunder; and then his memory ceased
abruptly. But where was Harry, his inseparable companion?
Roger raised his throbbing head painfully, and tried to look round, but
could nowhere discover the presence of his dear friend. He shouted his
name: "Harry; Harry, where are you?" but there was no reply. Only
somewhere above him he could hear the roar of cannon, hoarse cries of
command, angry shouts, and the trampling feet of many men.
Looking about him, he perceived that he lay in a cabin of some sort,
very richly furnished, but lit by a light so dim that he could only make
out objects in it very indistinctly. There was no port-hole or
sky-light of any description in the apartment, which led him to the
conclusion that he must be in some room far away below the water-line.
This impression was heightened by the fact that exterior noises came to
his ears muffled, as by distance.
In the cabin itself there was no sound, save the gnawing of a rat
somewhere on the floor below him. On the walls he could dimly discern
two or three pictures, and just above his bunk was a portrait of a lady.
There were also several star trophies of weapons arranged at intervals;
and at one end of the cabin--which was of unusually spacious
dimensions--stood a large cabinet or escritoire, one of the drawers of
which had apparently been pulled out hastily, as papers were to be seen
protruding from it, and several documents had fallen to the floor.
Oh, how he wished he might venture to rise from his bunk and make an
investigation of the cabin! But he was afraid to attempt any such
exploit, for his head ached so atrociously, and he felt so deadly sick
and giddy from the anguish of his wound and loss of blood, that he felt
certain if he exerted himself but ever so little he would sink helpless
and insensible to the deck. While thinking thus he abstractedly raised
his hand to his head, and thus discovered that his wound had been
bandaged, evidently by a skilled hand, for the wrappings were all neatly
put on, adjusted, and sewn, instead of being merely tied. This was so
far satisfactory, for it seemed to point to the fact that he had fallen
into friendly hands, although his returning senses, enabled him to come
to the conclusion that he must certainly be aboard a Spanish ship. With
a sigh of relief he was preparing to pull the coverlet over him and lie
down once more, when his ear caught the sound of footsteps approaching.
He was just about to shout to the person or persons, whoever they might
be, and enquire as to where he was, and whether they could afford him
any information as to what had become of Harry, when his quick ear
caught one or two words of the conversation which the unknown persons
were carrying on. It was in Spanish. Then his surmise was a true one,
and he was indeed aboard one of the enemy's ships. With a stifled cry
he flung himself down in the bunk, and pulled the coverlet over him once
again, closing his eyes, and simulating heavy breathing, in the hope of
persuading the new-comers that he was in a deep slumber.
He was only just in time, for as he composed his limbs into a
comfortable position, in the event of the strangers making a lengthy
stay, two men entered.
Roger looked at them from between his nearly-closed eyelids and saw that
both were tall men, slender and dark, both wearing long black mustachios
and closely trimmed beards. Roger happened to possess a slight
knowledge of Spanish, and was thus able to gather the meaning of at
least part of their conversation. With one accord they approached
Roger's bunk and leaned over, looking at his face.
"He sleeps," said the elder of the two men.
"Well, let him sleep as long as he will," replied his companion
sardonically, "for it is little enough sleep the young heretic will get
when once he is delivered over to the Holy Inquisition."
Roger shuddered.
He had heard quite enough of the methods of that institution to
understand the significance of the words. He longed to open his eyes
and take more particular note than he had yet been able to do of the
personality of his two visitors; but he withstood the temptation, and
kept his eyes closed, listening hard to catch all he could of the
ensuing conversation.
"And what, Alvarez, are the captain's orders with regard to the boy?"
said the elder man, whose name, it transpired, was de Soto.
"Senor Don Guzman's orders," answered the other, "are that he is to be
kept in this cabin until we have finally disposed of these three
pestilent English ships; and when that is done, and we have captured
them, he is to be locked up in the fore hold, with the other prisoners
we shall take--if the rascals do not in this case fight to the death, as
they often do. Then when we return to Cadiz they are all to be handed
over to the Holy Inquisition."
Roger felt the cold perspiration start in beads on his forehead.
"Ah! It seems almost a pity," said de Soto, "that we should have
plucked this lad from the sharks, only to hand him over to those other
fiends of the Holy Office; for he is a handsome and stalwart lad, and
those limbs of his were never meant to be seared with red-hot irons, and
torn asunder on the rack!"
"Hush, de Soto, my friend!" responded Alvarez; "let no man save myself
hear you speak thus of the Holy Office, or thy limbs, of which thou art
so proud, may perchance make acquaintance with the same torments as are
reserved for this young heretic."
"Thanks, Alvarez!" returned de Soto; "I should not have spoken thus
before any other than thyself; but thou art my friend, I know. I can
trust thee with my life; as, indeed, I am trusting thee in speaking thus
freely of the so-called Holy Inquisition. Is it not so?"
"Yes, de Soto, it is so; and I am indeed thy friend," replied Alvarez,
turning his head slightly aside, so that his companion might not catch
the evil glitter that shone in his eyes. He did not know that Roger was
observing him through nearly-closed lids, and that he had caught that
look on Alvarez's face as he turned from de Soto; and possibly if he had
known he would not have greatly cared. But if ever the devil incarnate
looked out of any man's eyes, he did at that moment out of those of the
man whom Roger had heard addressed as Alvarez.
"But how goes the fight, de Soto?" he continued, after a pause.
"Methinks there is less cannonading now than there was a little time
since."
"When I left the deck a few minutes ago," answered de Soto, "two of our
ships, alas!--the _Maria Dolorosa_ and the _Buena Vista_--had
disappeared. One was sunk by the fire of these cursed English: and,
unable to hold the other, our brave countrymen fired her magazine. I
expect this young heretic was on board the ship that blew up, for just
before the explosion came I thought I saw two figures on her poop, one
of whom was standing up, while the other was lying on the deck at his
feet. I think the one who was lying down must have been our friend,
here. What became of the other I know not; but he was doubtless either
drowned or swallowed by one of those same sharks from which we only just
rescued this lad in the nick of time. He will live, I fear, to wish
that we had left him to them. As for our other three ships, they were
engaging right valiantly those of the enemy, and beating them down too;
but these cursed islanders seem to know not when they are beaten, and I
doubt me that our victory will be at all an easy one. As for them,
although the ship of Cavendish has lost all her masts, her hull is
almost intact, thanks to our wretched gunnery; and there she now lies on
the water, unable to move, it is true, but, like a wounded lion, all the
more dangerous for being wounded. But the _Gloria del Mundo_ is giving
her all attention, and she will be compelled to strike to our heavier
broadsides ere long. Our other two vessels, _El Capitan_ and
_Salvador_, are engaging the remaining ships of the English squadron,
and the moment cannot be far distant when they will all surrender to the
flag of his most sacred majesty, Philip of Spain, the invincible flag,
the flag of the empire of the Old World and the New," concluded de Soto.
"So," thought Roger to himself, "it would appear that I am on board the
_Gloria del Mundo_, and that the action is as yet undecided. But Senor
de Soto is, I imagine, somewhat mistaken if he seriously believes that
Cavendish will surrender his ships; rather will he let them sink with
colours flying. I will not believe that the flag of England, the
mistress of the seas, is this day destined to dip to the blood and gold
flag of Spain. And the end of the fight, I will wager, is not only
farther off than this good de Soto suspects, but it will also have a
different ending from what he looks forward to, or my name is not Roger
Trevose!"
"I believe the lad is awake," said Alvarez; "I could almost swear he
moved just now."
Both men bent over Roger, who had involuntarily stirred upon hearing
that these two anticipated the surrender of the English.
"No," dissented de Soto, "I think he still sleeps; you must have
imagined it, Alvarez."
The glitter came again into the eyes of the latter, as he replied: "de
Soto, my imagination is not--" when suddenly the roar of cannonading
again commenced, drowning the remainder of the sentence. Then came a
shock that made the stately vessel reel throughout the whole of her
massive fabric. There was a rending and grinding of timber, and a
frightful crash on deck announced that one of the masts had come down.
Roger heard distant cheers, and knew that his prognostication that the
end had not yet come was correct. Evidently the English had repeated
the manoeuvre that they had so successfully practised earlier in the
day, and laid their ships alongside once more. Musketry, pistol-shots,
shouts, groans, the clash of steel, a perfect medley of sound floated
down from the deck above and through the open cabin-door.
"Quick, Alvarez, on deck!" roared de Soto, plunging out of the cabin;
"the English have laid us aboard, and will have the ship if we are not
careful!"
Alvarez was in nowise behindhand. Snatching his sword from its sheath,
and clutching a pistol from the table as he went, he followed de Soto on
deck.
Roger attempted to get out of his bunk, with the idea of joining his
friends on deck and taking part in the fight, but he fell back on his
mattress, weak and giddy from the attempt. What would he not give to be
able to go on deck at this moment! but he could not stir for the reeling
giddiness of his head; he felt that to attempt to rise would but result
in his falling insensible to the floor of the cabin; and he could but
lie still and listen to the turmoil raging above his head.
The din was terrific; now came triumphant shouts in English, and Roger
could picture to himself the bravo fellows rushing the Spaniards
pell-mell across their own decks and into the water, or below; and again
the tide of battle seemed to turn, and the English to be getting the
worst of it.
Oh, maddening thought, that he was helplessly imprisoned here, unable to
take part in the brave doings that were being wrought above! Little by
little the shouts and fierce cries died away. "Who had won?"
conjectured Roger to himself.
There was a clatter of running feet in the passage leading to the cabin,
and the man Alvarez, with a hunted look of terror in his face, clashed
into the apartment. He burrowed hastily among the papers in the open
drawer that Roger had noticed at first, and apparently was unable to
find what he was looking for.
"Carramba!" he ejaculated, "what has de Soto done with those papers?"
He tore the remainder of them from the drawer with a curse, flung them
on the floor, and, dropping on his knees, hastily turned them over one
after another as they lay there.
Now for some time Roger had been vaguely conscious of a peculiar
sluggish movement of the ship as she heaved on the swell, and the sight
of Alvarez's haste suddenly brought the ghastly truth home to him. The
ship was sinking!
"I must wait no longer," muttered Alvarez to himself, "or I shall be
drowned like a rat in a trap, in company with that young heretic there
in the bunk. I wonder whether by any chance de Soto has taken those
papers himself! Carrajo! now I remember. When we came in together to
look at the English whelp the drawer was open. Without doubt de Soto
has them. Well, never mind; I will have them from him before I have
finished with him. I can recall all he has said about the Holy
Inquisition, and, if that is not enough to condemn him, I can easily
enough invent something else; but have those papers from him before he
dies, I will. Perhaps, when he is in the hands of that Inquisition he
hates so much, he will be willing to surrender those documents to his
dear friend Alvarez, if that friend promises to rescue him from further
torment. And now for the English cub," he continued, rising to his feet
and drawing his dagger from its sheath.
Once again came that sickening lurch, accompanied by the sound of
washing of water close at hand. The ship was fast settling down.
"No," murmured Alvarez, "I cannot wait. My life is too valuable to me
to risk it even for the pleasure of slaying an Englishman; and the sea
will soon send the youngster to the nether world." And he rushed from
the cabin, leaving the papers and charts strewn on the floor at the foot
of the escritoire.
By this time Roger was pretty fully awake to a knowledge of his great
and pressing danger. Here he was, weak and dazed to the point of utter
helplessness, on board a fast-sinking ship, with none to render him aid,
and feeling quite unable to move without it.
"Oh, God help me!" he moaned; "what a miserable death to die! Harry!
Harry! Harry!" he cried distractedly, "come and help me; I am here
below drowning! Help! help!"
There was no reply.
But a sound that he had heard before without attaching much importance
to it now forced itself upon his attention; it was the swishing of
water; and, looking over the edge of his bunk he saw that water was
already rising fast over the floor of the cabin. Desperation now lent
him strength, and, pulling himself together with a violent effort, he
slowly and painfully rose upright and put his legs over the edge of the
berth. He felt incapable of making any further effort for the moment.
Then once more he raised his voice and shouted for help, and this time
he fancied that far away in the distance he heard a reply. He shouted
again and again; then paused, listening.
The answering voice sounded a little nearer.
At that moment the ship gave another roll, and to Roger it seemed as
though she must founder immediately.
There was another sickening lurch, and Roger, convinced that the end had
come, went tumbling off the edge of his bunk, and fell flat on his face
in about two feet of water which was washing over the cabin floor. The
shock of the fall displaced his bandages; his wound began to bleed
afresh; and, confused as he still was, the idea took possession of him
that he was in danger of bleeding to death.
Would nobody ever come to take him out of this awful hole? "Help, help,
I am drowning!" he shouted.
But this time there was no answering voice.
Then Roger once more pulled himself together and began to crawl over the
floor, the water splashing round and over him. Inch by inch he neared
the door, and then he heard a call, so near that it startled him.
"For Heaven's sake, where are you, Roger? Answer, man, if you are
alive." The voice was Harry's.
"Harry," groaned Roger, "here I am; help me quickly or you will be too
late; the ship sinks fast!"
Guided by the voice, Harry soon made his appearance.
"Roger, man," he cried, "thank God I have found you! I thought you were
gone for ever. Can you help yourself at all, lad?"
"A little, I think, if you will put your arm round me," replied Roger.
Harry flung his arm under Roger's arm-pits and raised him to his feet.
"One moment, Harry," cried Roger, pointing to the papers which Alvarez
had left on the floor, and which were now floating about the cabin;
"secure these papers; I believe they are of value."
Harry seized the documents with his free hand, and, supporting Roger,
staggered with him to the foot of the companion-ladder. How they
eventually got up into the free air the two never clearly knew, for they
were deep down in the body of the ship, and had two or three ladders to
climb ere they arrived on the upper deck. But reach it they did, after
what seemed an eternity of suspense. Then, as they stepped out once
more into the blessed free air of heaven, the whole of the Atlantic
seemed suddenly to sweep over the ship; they felt her slide from beneath
their feet; and they were drawn down, down, down, until it appeared as
though they would never again see the light. But at last, with lungs
bursting and almost suffocated, they shot up to the heaving surface of
the sea, clinging tightly to each other.
And there--oh, blessed sight!--not twenty fathoms away, lay their own
ship, dismasted and looking an utter wreck, but more beautiful to their
eyes than any palace.
From her decks there came a shout: "There they are! there they are!
Lower away a boat! lower quickly, or the sharks will have them!"
In a few minutes the only remaining boat belonging to the ship was
lowered, and a dozen willing arms were sending her flying over the water
towards the two lads.
Bearded faces looked over her gunwale, and brawny arms literally
snatched them from an awful death; for as they were dragged out of the
water there was a snap of hungry jaws, and several huge sharks were
baulked of their prey.
A few minutes later, dripping and exhausted, the two lads found
themselves once more safe and sound on the decks of their beloved ship,
and saw Cavendish himself looking at them with an expression of anxiety
on his face.
"I hope, lads, you are none the worse for your adventure?" said he.
"No, sir, we are safe, thank God!" replied Roger; "but we have been
through a good deal, and are somewhat shaken. We should therefore like
to go below for a while. But is all the fighting over?"
"Yes," replied Cavendish, "and victory is to us."
The two then went below, and Harry soon had Roger under the care of the
surgeon. The good man pronounced that his wound was not dangerous, and
that he would do, with care.
Then, sitting by Roger's side, Harry plunged into a recital of his
adventures since the boarding of the Spaniard, a circle of eager
listeners standing or sitting round them.