SEQUEL TO OUR ADVENTURE.
For two hours--they seemed an eternity to me--it would appear, the
four Spanish officers lingered over their wine-flasks and cigars in
the wooded ravine, their movements being duly reported from time to
time by one of the outlaws, who stole to the cavern mouth and peeped
out.
At last, they mounted and rode off, when a fresh cause for wrath and
delay was produced by the announcement that a wagon, drawn by mules
and attended by several laborers and negroes, had broken down on the
road about a mile distant.
The irritation of our Spaniards--some of whom spoke of having a ship
to join--was now so great, that I feared they might end the whole
affair by disposing of us in a summary manner.
This wagon being heavily laden caused a delay for several hours. The
sun's rays ceased to shine through the fissure above us; the grotto
grew dark by the increase of imperceptible shadows; the dingy faces
of our olive-skinned detainers grew darker still; and their
impatience was only surpassed by ours, for we, too, had a ship to
rejoin.
Every minute of these hours--every second of every minute--passed
slowly, like a pang of agony in my heart; and every feature of that
natural vault, through which the dying daylight stole--with the faces
and voices of the men whose victims we were, and more than all, the
ceaseless and eternal buzz in the dark chasm that yawned close
by--the ventana, or nostril of the Piton--are yet vividly impressed
upon my memory.
At last the darkness was so great, that a lantern was lighted, and
its wavering gleams, as they fell on the crystals, the spar, quartz,
and glassy blocks of black obsidian and ruddy lava which formed the
walls and arch of the cavern, on the dark ferocious visages, the
gaudy sashes, the naked arms and feet, the scrubby black beards, and
brass-mounted knives, and muskets of the taciturn Spaniards, who sat
in a sullen group smoking paper cigaritos,--all added to the gloomy
but picturesque horror of the place and of the incident.
"Antonio, que hora es?" I heard one say, inquiring the time.
"Las neuve y media, companero mio" (half-past nine), replied the
possessor of my gold watch, which he consulted with considerable
complacency.
"Maldita!" growled the others, knitting their brows, for the dusk was
rapidly becoming darkness, and they had no desire for killing us, if
we could be made profitable. I have often thought since, that had
Tom actually procured and returned with the required ransom of five
hundred dollars, they would have pocketed it and then killed us
both--me most certainly, as they seemed to have other views for poor
Tom in the Southern States.
"We have had a long spell of this," said he, in a low voice. "I am
going to escape, if I can."
"Escape! but how?"
"I don't know exactly _how_, yet; but we must first have our lashings
cast off."
"Would to Heaven they were, Tom. My hands are so swollen, and my
wrists so cut and benumbed, that my arms are wellnigh powerless," I
whispered in a low voice, like a groan.
"Sit with me here, in the shadow of this angle of rock; and now, as
the darkness is fairly set in, I shall soon make you free."
By a rapid and skilful application of his strong teeth to the cord
which bound my wrists, he untwisted the knot and freed my hands; and
then in the suddenly-given luxury of being able to stretch my arms, I
almost forgot the necessity for concealing the fact that I was now
unbound.
I soon found an opportunity for untying Tom's fetters. Then we kept
our hands clasped before us, as if still manacled, and watched,
waited, and hoped--we scarcely knew for what--while in the further
end of this inner cave, our detainers sat sullenly smoking, and, by
the dim lantern light, making up cigaritos from their
tobacco-pouches, and those little rice-paper books which are now
procurable nearly everywhere.
From the conversation of our captors, I could gather that our brig,
the _Eugenie_, was visible at anchor in the roadstead of Santa Cruz,
a mile or so distant.
Three of these Spaniards had placed their muskets against the wall of
rock, and seemed disposed to doze off asleep.
Close by us lay the plank which crossed that dread ventana, like the
infernal bridge of Poulsherro, which the Mahommedans believe crosses
the sea of fire that on the day of doom shall separate Good from
Evil. Tom and I looked at it, and exchanged glances of intelligence
from time to time, but the attempt to rush across might prove doubly
fatal to one or both. A slip of the foot would hurl us into
eternity; and if the passage were achieved, we would be exposed to
the fire of those we fled from, and met by that of the armed man at
the mouth of the grotto.
Thus our position and its perils were somewhat complicated.
Suddenly the distant report of a piece of ordnance, coming from the
seaward, made us all look up and listen.
"El ruido que hace el canon!" (the crack of a gun), exclaimed a
Spaniard, scrambling up to the lower end of the fissure in the arch
of the grotto, and looking out.
"We all know that well enough; but what does it mean?" asked the
other.
"The English brig at the anchorage has fired it. I see a light
glittering on her deck; and now away it goes up to the foremast head."
"It is the _Eugenie_, Master Rodney," whispered Tom.
"Can the captain be about to sail to-night,--and without us?" said I,
with growing dismay.
"No; but he is impatient for us to come off. He knows well what a
'tarnal slippery set of imps these Jack Spaniards are, and has shown
a light, and fired a gun as a hint for us to look sharp."
"Companero," said one of the Spaniards to the other who was looking
out, "are you sure that it is the English brig, and not ours?"
"Yes; but by St. Paul! there is a light burning now on the Castello
de Santa Cruz; so our craft had better get her sweeps out, and put to
sea, even without us. Can the Senor Gobernador have smelt a rat?"
This announcement, though we knew not what it referred to, had an
evident effect on our captors, who were probably part of a slaver's
crew; for they all scrambled up to the opening in the rocks to look
out.
"Now, now is the time to slip our cables and run. Follow me!" said
Tom Lambourne, in a hoarse but determined whisper, as he sprang
forward--snatched up two of the muskets, and rushed across the plank,
tripping as lightly as he would have done along a boom or yard,
though it crossed a gulf so terrible.
Less steadily, but not less rapidly, you may be assured--yet with a
frozen heart--I followed him, and his hard tarry hand was ready to
grasp mine and drag me forward into safety, while with a violent kick
he tossed the plank away, and surging down it went, into the black
gulf we had crossed.
It vanished in a moment, and no sound ever ascended, for it seemed to
have fallen into a pit that was dark as it was bottomless!
"Take this musket, and see that you can use it, sir," said Tom, as an
emotion of bravado seized him. "And so, you Spanish greenhorns," he
shouted, "you thought to sell me for a nigger to the Yankees, did
you? Whoop--hurrah!"
A volley of Spanish oaths followed this rash outburst, which drew
their attention at once upon us. Some rushed to the dark brink and
paused, I suppose, for neither Tom nor I could see distinctly, as
there was a double explosion which filled the cavern with echoes like
those of rolling thunder, and a momentary glare of smoky light, while
two musket-balls whistled past us; and I felt one like a hot cinder,
as it grazed my left ear. Then came an Albacete knife, which was
hurled by no erring hand, for it wounded Tom's right knee.
"Give them a shot, Mr. Rodney," said he, furiously; "I'll reserve my
fire for the sentry,--and here he is already!"
And just as the eighth fellow, who was on the watch, alarmed by the
firing, came rushing in with his piece at full cock, Tom fired at him.
"Saints and angels!" yelled the Spaniard, as he bounded into the air,
and then fell flat on his face, where he lay beating the earth with
his feet and hands.
"Fire! fire! Master Rodney, and then run for it, before they can
reload," cried Tom, who saw that I was irresolute; "give 'em a stern
chaser!"
My blood was now fairly up. Wheeling round, I levelled full at the
group, one of whom was in the act of _taking aim at me_; while I saw
the steel ram-rod of the other, who had a musket, glitter in the
lantern light as he reloaded.
I fired! I know not whether the ball hit; but one of the ruffians
sprang wildly forward, and fell headlong into the ventana!
"That will do!" cried Tom; "away now, as fast as we can--stretch
out--bear away for the harbor and the brig!"
Grasping our newly-acquired weapons, which we never thought of
relinquishing, we rushed out, and descending the ravine, favored by
the starlight, instinctively took the path which led directly to the
harbor.
With a heart that beat wildly, a head in a whirl of thoughts, and
every pulse quickened by the whole affair--by the ferocious treatment
to which we had been subjected for so many hours; by the perils which
had menaced us; by the narrow escapes we had made from bullets, and
when twice crossing that awful chasm; by the wild and disastrous
tragedy which closed the adventures of a long and exciting day,--I
ran beside Tom Lambourne; on, on, without a breath to spare or a word
to utter.
Headlong we stumbled over piles of old lava, now we sank ankle deep
among soft pumice dust; anon we rolled, fell, or scrambled through
wild vines and creepers; then through fields of growing maize and
wheat, or plantations of coffee and apple trees; but never paused
until we reached the base of the mighty Piton, where, breathless,
gasping, panting, and bathed in perspiration, we lay down in a little
thicket of cinnamon bushes by the wayside, to rest for a short space.
During this flight I had never spoken, but Tom from time to time
indulged in disjointed remarks expressive of an exultation in which I
could not share, being only thankful to heaven for my escape. But
poor Tom had seen more of a rough life, and of many a violent death,
than it could possibly have been my lot to witness.
"Ha, ha! you Spanish swabs! We've slung two of your hammocks in a
hot place--before the time, perhaps!" said he. "What a row they
made, like so many niggers clearing a cargo, when we sheered off!
Lucky it was that I eased off our tow-lines in time! I have a good
mind to put about, stand for the cave, and pot another of those
Spanish gorillas!"
Whether he meant _guerillas_ I did not inquire, but was happy when we
reached the harbor, and I felt the cool breeze of the ocean fan my
throbbing temples and my hands, which, from being so long and so
tightly tied with rough cords, and having the blood afterwards driven
through them by rapid exertion, felt literally burning _hot_.
All was dark and still when we ran along the stone mole of Santa
Cruz. Fortunately, at that late hour, there were no officials to
question or molest us; and we could see the brig anchored about half
a mile distant, with the lantern still burning at the foremasthead.
The light on the Castle had disappeared.
We soon found a small punt at the landing stairs, and taking
possession of it without leave, cast loose the painter and shoved off.
Silently and steadily, with all our remaining strength we pulled for
the brig, and were soon alongside.
"Well, this spree is over, Master Rodney," said Tattooed Tom, wiping
his brow with his sleeve when we stood on the deck, where the
wondering crew gathered round us; "but catch me having another in
this deuced Tenny Reef,--that's all!"