On opening the bundle it was found to contain three files, very thin,
extremely sharp, and of wonderful temper. There were also two small
saws, with handles to them, and a bottle of very thick oil, to make the
saws and files cut faster, and also to prevent that harsh, squeaking
sound which usually arises when steel cuts against steel.
The two lads, in their eagerness, snatched the tools from the leather
bag, and, replacing the stools one above the other, mounted them and
began to work swiftly and silently.
"We must remember, Roger," whispered Harry, "that we shall have to
listen very carefully for footsteps coming along that passage, and hide
these tools somewhere at the first sound. Of course, if we were seen
working here, or if the tools were discovered, we might just as well
give up at once, for there would be no hope left."
"You are right, my friend," answered Roger. "But I do not intend that
anybody shall catch us at this work; nor shall they catch sight of the
tools. At the first sound of any person approaching you must jump down
for your life, remove the stools, and sit down and pretend to be asleep.
I will wrap the tools up quickly in their bag, and slip them into my
jerkin. If we are summoned from the cell, and are likely to be
searched, I shall endeavour, as we go, to drop the parcel behind the
door, where it cannot be seen unless someone enters the cell and
deliberately looks behind the door, which is not very likely unless they
suspect us of having got hold of any tools. Now remember what I say.
No more talk now, Harry; we shall require all our breath for working."
They slaved away with file and saw, never ceasing work for a moment,
until their muscles utterly refused to allow their tired arms to make
another movement, and then they rested for a moment to recover. Harry
and Roger each worked on a separate bar of the grating, and so equal had
been their efforts that each lad's bar was cut through at the same time.
"There go two nails drawn from our coffins, Roger," said Harry, and he
attacked his second bar with the energy born of deserved success. Roger
uttered no word, but saved all his breath, and put every ounce of his
strength into his arms, cutting away with file and saw like a very
madman.
As the bars were cut out they were laid carefully on the sill in front
of them, so as to be at hand for replacement directly any suspicious
sound was heard. All night long they worked, and with such a will that
soon after daybreak next morning but two bars remained to be cut
through. As usual, an hour or two after dawn they heard the click of
the trap as their food was placed in the cell; but it startled them only
for a moment, for they had not overlooked the fact that their food was
due to arrive. Moreover, they knew that the aperture was so small that
there was but just room to pass a small platter through it, and that,
even if the jailer should attempt to spy on them, the window was beyond
his range of vision. The sound, however, recalled the fact to their
minds that they were very hungry, and that if they wished to keep up
their strength they must eat. And, as Harry said, they had done good
work during the night, so that they could spare the time. The tools
were therefore packed up and hidden away; the bars already cut were
replaced so that anybody chancing to look in should notice nothing out
of the ordinary; then the stools were removed from below the window, and
both lads sat down to their morning meal with keener appetites than they
had known for some months past. Everything in the cell presented its
usual appearance, and the twain were hastily finishing their meal when
the tramp of feet was heard in the passage. No quiet, stealthy footstep
this time, but a clatter of several approaching men which there was no
mistaking. Roger and Harry looked at one another, dismay written all
over their countenances. What was to happen now? Had the hour for
their execution been advanced again, and were they to be led out to
death at once, or was their cell to be changed and all their labour
rendered useless, and their chance of escape destroyed at the very last
moment? These, and a hundred other surmises, chased each other rapidly
through the lads' minds as they listened with bated breath to the noise
of the approaching footsteps. Each, however, pulled himself together,
and by the time that the cell door was opened the lads presented
absolutely expressionless faces to their enemies. The door clanged
open, disclosing to their sight a number of men in black robes and
cowls.
"His Excellency the Viceroy requires the attendance of you both," said
one of the masked inquisitors in a deep voice and in remarkably good
English. "Follow me at once."
The man turned to lead the way. Harry followed close on his heels; but
as Roger prepared to leave the cell he pretended to stumble, and when
picking himself up adroitly deposited the little satchel of tools behind
the open door. His action, he was much relieved to notice, attracted no
attention, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the cell door closed
after them, and of knowing, therefore, that the precious implements were
safe for the time being.
They were led through the self-same passages and corridors by which they
had walked to the torture-chamber a few days before, and their hearts
sank within them, for this second journey seemed to them ominous of
evil.
Yes, it was but too true. In a few minutes they reached the door of
that Chamber of Horrors, passed through it, heard it shut after them,
and found themselves once more in the presence of that arch-fiend,
Alvarez, "Viceroy of the Province, Governor of the City, and Chief of
the Holy Inquisition in the town of Vera Cruz". They were not long left
in doubt as to what was in store for them. Alvarez spoke:
"I understand that you two young men formerly belonged to the squadron
of that most pestilent heretic and pirate, Cavendish; is it not so?
Answer me!"
"Yes," replied Harry, "we belonged, and consider that we still belong,
to the ship of Mr Cavendish, who is no pirate, but a noble and true
English gentleman."
"Silence!" snarled Alvarez. "Do not dare to speak in that way to me!
Answer my questions only, and make no remarks of your own. I say that
the man Cavendish is a pirate, and that is sufficient. Now, you are
both heretics, that I know, and I am shortly going to the trouble of
attempting to convert you to the only true faith, through the gentle,
loving, and persuasive methods applied to heretics by the most Holy
Inquisition. You had an example, only the other day, of the way in
which Mother Church deals with those who obey her not. She always uses
the most gentle means to bring about conversion, and would lead heretics
to a knowledge of the true faith by loving-kindness alone, as no doubt
you noticed in the case of the man de Soto, who was undergoing the
process of persuasion when you were last here." And he gave vent to a
most horrible and grating laugh.
"I am deeply grieved to inform you," he continued, "that de Soto
persisted in denying all knowledge of a certain matter, and--well, he is
dead now, rest his soul!" he added sardonically.
"Since seeing you two," he resumed, "I have come to the conclusion that
I was perhaps somewhat hasty with de Soto, and imagine it is possible
that he did not possess the knowledge I credited him with, and it may be
that I punished him unjustly. But that little matter is now past
regret, and we have to deal with the present. The matter in hand deals
with the loss of a certain document from the cabin of a Spanish
war-vessel, the _Gloria del Mundo_, which ship you both doubtless
remember. I thought at first that de Soto was responsible for its
disappearance; but, if my memory serves me aright, you two lads left the
vessel after de Soto and myself, and, from what I have gathered, I
imagine that you may know something about the paper. If you know, tell
me where it is, and I will spare you; but if you decide not to speak--
well, you saw what de Soto suffered the other day, and his treatment was
gentle compared with what yours will be unless you decide to tell me
where that paper is to be found, for I am convinced that you know. Now,
speak; speak--you!" Again Harry acted as spokesman, and replied:
"Senor Alvarez, we have heard what you say, and we know to what paper
you refer; but we have it not. It is no longer in existence, and
consequently it can never be found. You may do your worst; but though
you should torture us both to death, it is not in our power, or that of
any other mortal, to give you a document which does not now exist."
"I do not believe you," shouted Alvarez. "It cannot be so. That paper
must be somewhere," he foamed, "and I will have it if I am compelled to
tear you limb from limb to get it. Will you speak, or will you not?"
Alvarez literally foamed at the mouth with rage, for indeed he was
nearly mad with disappointment. In spite of himself, he had an inward
conviction that what Harry said was true, and that, do what he might, he
would never again set eyes on that paper, the possession of which he so
earnestly desired.
Revenge, however, sweet revenge, still remained, and that he could and
would have. He had worked himself up to a pitch of fury that very
closely approached madness; moreover, his bitter disappointment demanded
alleviation through the suffering of him who had inflicted it. So,
without waiting for a reply, he roared, pointing to Harry:
"Seize that lad who spoke, and put him to the torture. I will soon see
whether he still refuses to speak when I command! Bind that other one,
and let him see all that happens; for it will be his turn next, and he
may as well know what is in store for him. Ha! ha!" and he laughed
again with sardonic fury.
Both lads struggled desperately in the grip of the black-cowled
inquisitors; but their struggles were fruitless, and in a few minutes
Harry was lying on the floor bound, while Roger was tied in an upright
position to one of the pillars of the chamber, in such a fashion that,
do as he would, he could not avoid witnessing the tortures that were to
be executed upon the body of his dear friend and bosom companion from
his boyhood upwards. At the last moment Roger would have intervened to
save Harry, actually offering to yield up the coveted secret if Alvarez
would relent. But the latter refused; his lust of blood was aroused,
his passion for witnessing the agony of others must be satiated at any
cost. Moreover, was not Roger in his power? He would compel the lad to
witness his friend's sufferings; give him the night wherein to dwell
upon them; and, next morning, first wring the secret from him under a
threat of torture, and afterwards--
It is unnecessary to harrow the feelings of the reader with a
description of what next took place in that ghastly chamber. Suffice it
to say that the torture and examination of Harry lasted until mid-day,
when it was seen that his senses had left him, and that he was no longer
conscious of the dreadful injuries that were being inflicted upon him.
He was then carried back to the cell and laid upon the floor, while
Roger was unbound and allowed to accompany him. The door was closed and
bolted, and Roger was alone with the pitiful, scarred, torn, and
bleeding wreck of his friend. He fetched water from the jug and forced
a few drops down Harry's throat, laved his brow, and bound up his seared
and bleeding wounds as best he could. Presently Harry opened his eyes,
and, seeing Roger bending over him, smiled even amid his pain.
"Do not weep, Roger, old friend," he said, noticing the tears running
down his chum's face; "they have done their utmost on me, and I shall
not last out long enough to surfer at their hands again. Nay, Roger,
dear lad, it is of no use. You cannot save me, and indeed I do not
desire to live; for of what use would life be to one in my condition?
They have torn the life so nearly from my poor body that there is but
little remaining, and that little you could not save, my dear old
friend. You did your best before they began upon me, and failed. No
man could do more. Just put your doublet under my head to keep it off
the hard stone, dear lad; and oh, Roger, do not weep so bitterly; it
tears my heart to see you. I feel but little pain now, and what still
remains will not be for long. Now, Roger, listen to me, my friend. I
shall be gone very soon; do not, I pray you, stay grieving over my body
after I am dead, for that will avail me nothing, and only involve you in
my fate. Therefore, get those tools and cut away at that grating, so
that you will be ready when that unknown friend of ours comes to assist
you to escape. Promise me, Roger. You will win home safely; I know it;
I feel that you will. And you will take care of Mary, my dear sister
Mary, will you not, Roger? See that she comes to no harm, old friend.
Remember the secret of that cryptogram, Roger, and fetch that treasure
away; my share of it is yours, my friend. I do not tell you to give it
to Mary, for I think you can guess what I mean when I say I do not think
it will be necessary. Roger," he resumed after a short silence, broken
only by the deep sobs of his sorrowing companion, "Roger, dear lad, hold
my hand, for it is getting very dark, and I cannot see. I like to feel
that you are near me, and I have no fear." His breathing now grew
rapidly weaker, until presently only a faint fluttering sigh could be
heard; then his eyes opened again, and he said: "Good-bye, Roger, I am
going, dear lad and faithful comrade; good-bye, and God bless you!
Remember what I said about preparing for to-night; and do not grieve for
me, for indeed I am quite happy. Good-bye!" His head fell back, his
breathing ceased, and Roger knew that he was now alone. Alone in
prison, and still in the hands of the Holy Office. He reverently closed
the eyes of his chum, and covered his face, after which he remained
seated by the side of the body of the beloved dead, lost in bitter
thought and sorrowful retrospection.
He was aroused by hearing the click of the trap-door in the wall as the
food was thrust in, and this recalled him to himself.
He remembered Harry's last injunction, that he was to continue the work
of cutting through the bars of the grating in order to be ready to
escape when midnight came. And he also remembered that Harry had given
his sister Mary into his charge, and enjoined him to look after and take
care of her.
How could he do this if he remained where he was, and lost his life,
even as poor Harry had lost his? No, he must put away his grief and
melancholy thoughts until a more convenient season. If he wished to
fulfil his promises to his dead friend, he must first escape. Actuated
by these reflections, he feverishly seized the tools once more and set
to work on the remaining two bars of the grating. The work took longer,
labouring by himself, but eventually one bar was cut through entirely,
and but one more remained. The night was getting on, however. There
was no means of knowing what hour it was, but he felt that it must be
nearing the appointed time. He seized one of the saws and began work on
the last bar, and at last cut it through also at the top. He had barely
finished that part of his task when a pebble came clattering up against
the wall just below the grating. The man was there already then! He
left the bar for a moment and lowered away the cord, and presently he
felt the now familiar jerking at the end and hauled it up. There was a
missive at the end, and, unfastening it from the cord, Roger took it to
the friendly patch of moonlight and read as follows:--
"I have heard the news already, and am sorry. But I have come to save
you, as it is to be your turn to-morrow. Come at once, if you can;
but if you have not quite finished, I can wait a little. When you are
ready, send down the cord, and I will attach the rope. You can haul
that up and fasten it securely. Then climb down as quickly as you
can.
"We are in luck to-night. Before dark fell I noticed an English
vessel in the offing. She is still there. If we can but seize a boat
we shall be able to reach her, and we shall then be safe, so hasten."
Roger very quickly glanced through this communication, and prepared to
finish his work on the bar, when he noticed that it was the only one
remaining. In his abstraction he had already cut through one end of the
last bar--the only one to which he could secure the rope. Luckily, he
had cut it at the top end; so he trusted that, if the rope were fastened
securely at the bottom, it would bear his weight. He quickly lowered
away his cord again, and in another minute felt the welcome tug, which
signified that the means of his escape was secured at the end of the
cord. He hauled away slowly, for this time the burden was heavy, but
eventually he saw the end of a good stout rope make its appearance at
the grating. He gathered in a sufficient length, and secured it firmly
to the one remaining bar; and, as he did so, it dawned upon him that,
had his rescue come but a little later, he would himself, in his grief
and abstraction, have destroyed his only chance of ever being able to
escape, by removing the last bar altogether.
All being now ready, Roger went over to Harry's body, and, tenderly
kissing the poor white lips, said, very softly: "Good-bye, dear lad,
until we meet again. I will amply avenge thee!" Then, with his knife
he cut off a lock of his friend's hair, and placed it securely in his
bosom. He cast one more look round the cell, and then hauled himself up
into the embrasure, and, forcing his body through the opening, seized
the rope, with a fervent prayer in his heart for deliverance, and began
the descent. After what seemed an eternity he felt a pair of strong
arms flung round him, and he was eased to the ground.
"Come along, sir," exclaimed the unknown man in a whisper; "we have no
time to lose. They seem more wakeful than usual to-night, aloft there,"
pointing upward at the building with his thumb, "and they may find out
your absence at any moment. Then we should both be lost, unless we were
well clear of this accursed building. Now, speak no more, on your life,
but do as I do, and follow me. If anybody accosts us, leave the
answering to me. Cover your face as well as you can, and come along."
He grasped Roger's hand, and together they set off through the darkness.
The rope they were obliged to leave as it was, having no means of
removing it. Through the little gateway--which Roger had seen this same
man pass on one occasion--they went, and found themselves in another and
much larger courtyard, planted with all kinds of flowering shrubs and
trees. These could only be dimly seen in the darkness, but Roger
judged, from their presence, that they were now going through that part
of the building where the quarters of the occupants were situated.
After a short time, occupied in fast walking, they came to an alleyway,
or small avenue, down which they hastened, and at the end of this was a
closed door of exceptionally stout and strong construction. Roger
believed, seeing it closed, that their attempt at escape had met with a
premature end; but no, the guide pressed a handle gently, and the door
swung open, and as Roger stepped out he felt the cool salt breeze
blowing on his face, and he knew that he was free at last. Free, after
months of weary imprisonment, torture, and suffering; yes, free! His
whole body seemed to expand to the grateful influence of the gentle
sea-breeze; but his heart was very, very sad for the loss of his friend.
The two fugitives plunged onward, across streets, down alleys, and up
steps, until they come to a huge open square, at the rear of which an
enormous building towered high. In the middle of the square was to be
made out, dimly, a pile or heap of some sort, with what looked liked a
short, thick pole, standing upright above it. Roger asked his guide in
a whisper what it was. The man replied:
"This big square is the Plaza of Vera Cruz, and the large building
yonder is the cathedral. That peculiar-shaped object you see there is a
heap of wood and straw surrounding a stake, and on that heap, bound to
that stake, you and your friend were doomed to die to-morrow!"
Roger felt his flesh creep, and hurried forward at an increased rate of
speed. Presently, after going down a very narrow and steep street,
Roger perceived that they had reached the beach, and he heard the dull
"boom" of the surf as it rolled in and broke on the sand.
The guide now spoke to him. "Do you see a small light out there, well
away in the offing?"
"I think I can see something of the kind," replied Roger.
"Well," explained the man, "that vessel is my old ship, the _Elizabeth_.
I was aboard her last time she came out here, and I was captured during
one of her actions. She is one of Mr Cavendish's vessels. I hear that
he left her in these seas to harry the Spaniards, whilst he took the
rest of the fleet round the other side, where he has just captured their
plate fleet. I shall be right glad to get back aboard her again."
"What!" exclaimed Roger in astonishment; "is that the dear old
_Elizabeth_? Why, I know her captain and crew well. Many is the time I
have been aboard her."
"Is that so, sir?" queried the man. "Then you will know old Cary,
perhaps, who used to be aboard her."
"Ay," replied Roger, "I know him well; but he was on the flag-ship, the
_Stag Royal_, and not the _Elizabeth_, when I saw him last."
"Well," said the sailor, "in any case we must not waste time--hark,
hark, there go the bells! They have discovered your escape. Now we
must be moving, for our very lives. This way."
And he hurried along a quay wall, which formed one of the arms of a
little harbour where small craft might lie.
The bells were indeed clanging wildly, and the noise was deafening.
Voices were to be heard now--snouts and cries; though whether the people
were yet on their track or not they could not tell. Along the wall they
hastened at a run, until they came to a small lateen-rigged vessel,
secured to the farthest end of the mole, and with her one huge sail
roughly furled round the yard. They dashed on board, cut the ropes
through, and the sailor, swarming up the rigging, cut the lashings, and
the foot of the lateen sail dropped down on deck. Roger hauled the
sheet aft and made it fast, then sprang to the tiller, and the little
craft began to move away from the mole under the influence of the
breeze.
"Lucky we found no one aboard," gasped the sailor, whose name was
Mathews; "but then I did not expect that there would be anybody about;
they never leave a watch on these little craft."
Roger still grasped the helm, and steered through the harbour's mouth
for the tiny point of light, which was the beacon of their safety, while
Mathews busied himself with the sail, and with making all snug on deck.
Although the town of Vera Cruz itself was still in darkness, away to the
eastward the first streaks of day were already showing, and the light on
the English man-of-war lying in the offing was growing fainter. Away
behind them, from the direction of the mole, the two fugitives could
hear a sound as of many people in pursuit, and presently a dark patch
detached itself from the darkness, and appeared to be following them;
and soon they made it out to be the sail of a vessel very similar to the
one they had so unceremoniously captured. She was a much larger craft,
and after a while there could be no doubt that she was overhauling them.
But they were now drawing well out toward the English vessel, although
the latter had not yet sighted them, and the issue, so far, hung on the
race between the two feluccas. The pursuing vessel crept up closer and
ever closer, and Roger and Mathews began to picture themselves as
adorning that bonfire in the plaza after all.
But now the English ship seemed to awake to what was going forward, and
to take in the situation at once. That one felucca was flying and the
other pursuing they could see at a glance. There was a puff of white
smoke from her side, and a shot flew screaming over their heads and
plunged into the water just in front of the pursuing felucca. Still she
held on, gaining remorselessly. Her crew began to fire at the
fugitives, compelling them to steer in a crouching position below the
bulwarks. By an occasional backward glance Roger saw her gradually
creeping up, and wondered why the English ship did not fire again; then
he discovered that his own vessel was in the line of fire. The
Spaniards had cleverly managed to get exactly behind him, so that the
English could not fire without hitting the foremost vessel. Therefore
Roger risked his life and liberty in a desperate manoeuvre. With a
sweep of the tiller he put the helm hard over, and the little vessel
bounded away on the opposite tack, leaving her pursuer without shelter.
The English ship--the crew of which were evidently waiting for something
of the sort to happen--took immediate advantage of her opportunity, and
let fly her whole broadside, luckily bringing down the pursuer's mast.
After that the fugitives were safe, and half an hour later were on board
the old _Elizabeth_, Roger talking to the captain and his
fellow-officers, and Mathews below, relating marvellous adventures to
his former mess-mates. Roger gave a full and graphic account of all
that had happened to himself and Harry, and told of his poor friend's
death.
Luckily it turned out that the _Elizabeth_ was on her way from the
Indies to England, and had only anchored during the night in the hope of
sighting one more prize; so it was by the merest chance that Roger
escaped after all. The captain now made sail, and pointed his vessel's
bows for home. The voyage lasted just three months, and they met with
no single enemy on the whole way.
The ship sailed into Plymouth Sound one bright summer's morning, and,
after his long absence, Roger looked once more on the country of his
birth. Taking leave of the captain and officers the moment that the
ship was moored and he was at liberty, he made his way up the river, as
once before, to his home.
He found all his people alive and well, and great and long-continued
were the rejoicings at his safe return; but poor Mary Edgwyth remained
for a long time quite inconsolable at the loss of her dearly-loved
brother.
But time heals all wounds, and when at length Roger asked her a certain
question, her sorrow had sufficiently abated to admit of her saying
"Yes" by way of answer.
Prior to this, however, Roger fitted out a small expedition on his own
account, and sailed for Lonely Inlet, in order to secure the treasure of
Jose Leirya.
He found it, strangely enough, in the identical cave where Harry and he
had kept the savages at bay, and its value proved to be vastly greater
than even he had imagined, despite all that he had heard regarding it.
Roger remained in those seas only long enough to secure the treasure,
upon successfully accomplishing which he turned his bows once again for
home, arriving in the summer, even as he had done before. Meanwhile the
lapse of time had so far ameliorated Mary's sorrow for the loss of her
brother that there was nothing now to prevent the marriage taking place,
and on a certain lovely summer's morning Roger and Mary were united in
Plympton Church; and their married life was all that their best friends
could desire for them.
With part of the treasure Roger fitted out a few small ships of his own,
which he sent to the Indies to harry the Dons and avenge the death of
his friend; but he did not himself go with the expeditions, saying that,
unless his country required his services, he would remain at home and
take care of Mary.
In due course a little son came to them, whom they named Harry, in
remembrance of the one who was gone; and with the arrival of the little
new-comer all sorrowful memory of the past was finally wiped out,
leaving only the future to be looked forward to, bright and
rose-coloured.
Thus, after all the deeds of horror and bloodshed by which the treasure
of Jose Leirya had been accumulated, that same treasure was productive
of good at last; for by Roger's judicious use of it, and his generous
yet discriminative charity, he healed as many hurts perhaps as had been
inflicted in the accumulation of it.
The story of those expeditions fitted out by Roger against his hated
enemies the Spaniards, and of the dire and terrible vengeance that they
wrought upon Alvarez, constitute in themselves a very complete history,
teeming with adventure, which the present chronicler hopes some day to
place upon record.