Vae Victis
The intention of Dennis had been to release the prisoners and then make
for the bark that lay alongside the quay. She was only of some fifty
tons burden; her crew would not be a large one; and it ought to be a
comparatively easy matter to overpower the men on board and warp the
vessel clear before the discomfited Spaniards could recover from their
confusion and make an organized attack.
But he had not reckoned on the rapidity with which events had moved,
and the impossibility of communicating his design to the men who had
been released. They had scattered in all directions in pursuit of the
Spaniards; Copstone and the maroons were carried away by the lust of
vengeance, and, wounded as they were, had rushed away with the rest;
and Dennis found that only Turnpenny was left at his side.
There were elements of peril in the situation. Some of the Spaniards
had swarmed over the wall of the officers' quarters. If they found
efficient leadership they might yet rally and prove a very formidable
enemy. Dennis and the seaman held a hurried consultation. They were
unarmed save for their swords; they had left their calivers in the
passage of the round tower, and the weapons were no doubt now in the
hands of two of the released prisoners. Adventurous as they both were,
it seemed the height of folly and rashness to attempt, they two alone,
to cope with unknown numbers beyond the wall. While they were still
perplexed as to the best course to follow, they heard a roar and a
crash from the direction of the commandant's house, followed by a babel
of cries. Running round, they found that the maroons, headed by
Copstone, had blown open the door of the house, and were hunting
through it in the darkness for the man under whose authority they had
suffered so many grievous wrongs. There were only four rooms; it was
the work of a few minutes to ransack them thoroughly; not a trace of
the commandant or his household could be discovered.
"Be jowned if they bean't stolen a march on us," cried Turnpenny, "and
made for the harbour first!"
"Let us after them at once, then. If they get away ours will be a bad
case indeed."
Calling to the half-dozen men who were at hand, Turnpenny led the way
at a great pace to the gate in the eastern wall of the fort. It was
locked. Almost beside himself with baffled rage, the seaman threw his
great bulk against the timbers; but they were stout, and even his
weight failed to force the lock.
"Is there no other way out?" asked Dennis.
"Not as I knows on. Where be Tom Copstone? Hey, my heart, be there
any other way out o' this yard?"
"Ay, there be a postern in the nor'-east tower."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Dennis dashed towards
the tower, the others following him with a rush. The door at the foot
of the tower was open; he sprang up the spiral stairway three steps at
a time, and almost broke his head against the postern door, that opened
inwards and blocked the way. The dawn was bursting in the eastern sky,
and Dennis looked eagerly out. The postern faced the sea, and the
harbour and quay were hidden from him by the circumference of the
tower; but he spied a rope ladder dangling from the opening to the
narrow footway below. It was clear that the commandant and his party,
while the combat was at its height, had slipped out of the house and
made their escape by this exit.
By this time Turnpenny and half a dozen others were crowding the narrow
staircase.
"They have made for the bark," cried the seaman, "and if there be true
mariners aboard she'll be warped clear and out to sea."
"She is not there yet. We have one chance. Copstone, run back to the
gate; blow up the lock and lead as many of your comrades as you can
find hot foot along the quay, in case it be still possible to seize the
vessel. Amos, can we train the fort guns on the mouth of the harbour?"
"Ay, sure, and I'll do it, being once gunner's mate aboard the _Anne
Gallant_."
"And I can aid you; God be praised that Sir Martin practised us
venturers in the usage of ordnance in the _Maid Marian_."
He slammed-to the postern door, freeing the stairway, and rushed up to
the narrow open archway leading on to the battlements, stumbling in the
dim light over the prostrate body of the gagged sentry as he leapt
through. Vaulting on to the parapet, he looked down at the quay to see
how the men were faring. A cry of bitter mortification burst from his
lips as he saw the bark slowly moving towards the sea. Her sails were
hoisted on the mainmast, and filling with the light westerly breeze; a
group of officers, among whom the commandant was easily distinguished,
crowded her deck, in addition to the crew; and there was not one of
Dennis's party or the prisoners in sight.
But at that moment there was a loud explosion; the gate fell with a
crash; and a crowd of men, white and black, headed by Copstone, rushed
out on to the quay. They roared with fury when they saw that they were
too late. Those of them who had loaded calivers ran along the quay,
firing ineffectually at the moving vessel. They were answered with a
volley from her decks, and two maroons fell, shouts from the Spaniards
acclaiming the lucky shots.
But Turnpenny had now taken his post at the nearest gun.
"Body o' me, sure 'tis a saker taken from the Jesus herself!" he cried
joyfully. "And here be powder and round shot and stone shot, and a
half circle for the sighting. Haymoss Turnpenny be no true man an he
do not send a good un plump into the midst of the knaves."
But none knew better than Turnpenny that, at any considerable distance,
it was easier to miss than to hit. Seeing that it was impossible to
depress the gun so as to get a shot at the vessel until she had drawn
clear of the harbour, he ran to the ordnance on the northern wall, and
loaded them in readiness in case his first shot missed. Meanwhile
Dennis had spied the muzzle of a demi-culverin projecting from the roof
of the round tower, and summoning to his assistance a white man who was
among his party, he ran up and began with all haste to load the gun.
Before he had finished, there was a flash and a roar from Turnpenny's
saker just below. The Spaniards on deck, who the moment before had
been laughing at the futile shots from the men on the quay, skipped
down the companion way with exceeding nimbleness. Dennis looked
eagerly for the result of the shot. That something had been carried
away was clear from the clattering noise on board and the rush of the
crew towards the stern-works; but neither the fore nor the mainmast had
been hit, and the vessel still glided seawards. Turnpenny growled with
rage, and ran to the next gun, from which, however, it would be useless
to fire until the bark had come quite out from the harbour mouth.
Dennis's heart leapt within him as he saw that the course of the vessel
would bring her in a few seconds within range of his gun. Now was his
chance of showing how he had profited by Sir Martin's lessons in
gunnery. How ardently he hoped that the bore was true and the windage
not too great to spoil his aim! He waited with lighted match until,
sighting with the gunner's half-circle--the quadrant with which every
piece of ordnance was equipped--he knew that the Spaniard was well
within range. He applied the match and sprang forward to the very edge
of the parapet to watch the effect of his shot. There was a sound of
rending and splitting from the deck; and through the smoke he saw the
mainmast collapse with all its rigging. A great shout from the
battlements and from the crowd below acclaimed the famous shot. There
had been no time to run up a sail on the foremast; the vessel lost way;
and the crew, having been deserted by the officers, huddled into the
forecastle, leaving several of their number prone upon the deck.
When the motion of the vessel ceased, two of the Spaniards rushed up
the companion-way and called on the crew frantically to hoist the
foresail. But in vain. The men were helpless with terror. And while
the Spaniards were storming and gesticulating, Turnpenny, exerting his
immense strength, hauled round the eight-foot minion which had been
removed from the embrasure by which the intruders had entered the fort,
and next moment a carcass crammed with case-shot plumped amidships of
the hapless bark, and the Spaniards, cowering from the flying
splinters, scuttled down the companion-way--all but one fellow, bolder
than the rest. The vessel had swung round a little, so that her
stern-chaser, a culverin twelve feet long, pointed full at the fort.
It was already loaded. The Spaniard, with a shout of defiance, altered
the elevation of the gun, lit a match, and applied it to the
touch-hole. A round shot crashed through the embrasure from which
Turnpenny had fired, scattering a shower of stone-chips around, and
dealing wounds among the group who were watching and assisting the
seaman to reload. The crashing sound brought the Spaniards again from
below, and they began feverishly to clean out and reload the piece.
But another shot from Dennis's gun fell plump into the round-house on
the half-deck; and now the Spanish commandant, perceiving that the men
on the quay had sprung into the fishers' canoes that lay alongside, and
were making direct to board his vessel, saw that the game was up, and,
raising his arms aloft, shouted that he surrendered.
"Go and board her," cried Dennis to Turnpenny. "I'll stay by the guns
in case he meditates treachery."
The seaman hurried away with a mixed crowd of maroons and white men.
In a few minutes he was pulling lustily for the vessel. Dennis, with
gun loaded, watched him climb the side and receive the Spaniard's
sword. Then a hawser was fixed to the headboards, and the vessel was
towed back to the quay side.
Dennis hastened down. The crestfallen commandant with all his men was
brought ashore and escorted to his house, where they were left under
guard. Hugh Curder, with three other seamen, was placed in charge of
the vessel, and then Dennis re-entered the fort-enclosure with
Turnpenny and the rest, eager to see, now that day had fully dawned,
what had happened during his absence.
He could not repress a shudder as he saw the ground strewn with dead
and wounded men; and he was horrified to observe that some of the
slave-fishers had broken out of their huts, and were moving about the
court-yard, giving the finishing stroke to the wounded of their late
masters who were yet alive. Dennis sent Ned Whiddon among them to put
a stop to this ruthless butchery; then his intervention was called for
at the round tower from which the prisoners had been released. A group
of them, headed by a big ruffianly seaman, had burst open the door of
the room in which the unarmed Spanish guards had been locked, and were
beginning a work of butchery there when Dennis, with Turnpenny and a
few others, rushed to the scene. Dashing into the room, Dennis sprang
at the ringleader just as he was thrusting at a Spaniard who had thrown
himself down on his knees and was pleading for mercy.
"Hold, knave!" he cried, hauling the man away.
"Zounds! and who be you?" shouted the fellow, recovering himself and
lunging furiously at Dennis.
"I'll teach 'ee, Jan Biddle!" roared Turnpenny. Seizing the man, he
lifted him as though he were a child and hurled him over his head in
true Devonian style. Biddle's head struck the floor with a loud thud,
and he lay as one killed.
"Souse him, my hearts!" cried Turnpenny. "The saucy knave!"
And in a few minutes a plentiful drenching from a water-butt at the
door brought some glimmering of sense into the man's bruised noddle.
Meanwhile the Spaniards who had survived the fight and escaped from
their pursuers, had barricaded themselves in the officers' quarters,
where they were unmolested while the majority of their late prisoners
were on the quay. The victory could not be considered complete while
they remained shut up, for they no doubt had arms and ammunition at
their disposal. Some of the victors were for blowing up the house and
all in it; but Dennis and Turnpenny dissuaded them from this, and
declared for insisting on unconditional surrender. To obtain this they
made use of the captive commandant. At Dennis's suggestion, Turnpenny
put the case to him, pointing out how hopeless was the position of his
men, and promising to spare their lives if they surrendered at once.
The commandant was then led to the officers' house between two men with
drawn swords, and after a few minutes' colloquy the men agreed to hand
over their weapons.
Dennis meanwhile collected his whole party. They were a very ragged
regiment. None was quite so tattered as Tom Copstone, but all were
dirty, unkempt, unshorn, bearing many marks of toil and suffering, as
well as the more recent marks of fight. Of the five maroons who had
scaled the fort wall two were dead; the rest were all wounded. Not one
of the little band had escaped unhurt. Dennis had several gashes in
his arms. Turnpenny's big face was disfigured with cuts and bruises,
while Copstone, who had fought with utter recklessness, seemed to have
borne a charmed life, so many were his wounds. The released prisoners
had come off best. With the exception of the two men shot down from
the vessel, one being killed and the other badly wounded, they had
escaped with a few scratches. They were a wild, rough lot, and Dennis
wondered, as he looked them over, whether they would show themselves
amenable to discipline.
The Spaniards having been disarmed and locked in the house, Turnpenny
constituted himself master of the ceremonies. After a brief talk with
Ned Whiddon and Hugh Curder, his special friends, he said to Dennis--
"Here we be, sir, masters of the fort, twenty-two all told, five being
French. We must needs have a captain, and that be you, for 'tis all
owed to your wit, and we pay you our humble duty."
"Thank 'ee, Amos, but I will not be captain save by the wish of all.
Methinks 'tis an office for one older in years."
"Be jowned if it be, sir. Comrades, list while I tell the tale of
these rare doings."
He related to the crowd the story of his rescue from the Spaniards on
the island, the capture of the lumber-ship, the voyage in the maroons'
canoe, and all that had happened since.
"And now, comrades," he concluded, "I ax 'ee, who so fit to be our
captain as Master Dennis Hazelrig, of Shaston in Devon? We owe our
lives to him, and there be many a thing to face afore we get across the
thousand leagues to home. Who but him shall be our captain?"
The election was ratified with a great shout.
"Thank 'ee, comrades," said Dennis. "'Tis not a post I covet;
willingly would I serve under an older man, my good friend Amos, to
wit. But I accept your choice. One thing I say. There may be more
fighting before us; if we fight, let us fight like Englishmen, not like
savages, and treat our enemies according to the manner of civilized
nations. Do you agree to that?"
"Ay, ay!" shouted the men,--all but Jan Biddle, whose growling protests
were howled down by the rest.
"Then it is mine to choose my lieutenant. You are all good men and
true, but 'tis my misfortune I am not so well acquainted with you as I
hope to be. But I know Amos Turnpenny, and you know him also; and----"
"I crave your pardon, sir," said Amos, interrupting; "I was gunner's
mate twenty-five year ago on the noble _Anne Gallant_, and four year
ago boatswain on Captain Hawkins his _Jesus_, and methinks the rank of
boatswain befits my stature and my fancy both; and if I may be so bold,
I say let these our comrades, good men and true, as you yourself did
say, choose among themselves two to serve as mates aboard the vessel."
"A wise speech," said Jan Biddle. "There be good mariners among us;
ay, and some of us are skilled in the manage of greater vessels than
the poor bark yonder. Let us then do as Amos says, and choose who
shall come next to our noble captain."
"So be it," said Dennis, with a glance at Amos. "Choose then, and we
will abide the choice."
It was clear that Jan Biddle expected the election to one of the posts
to fall upon himself. He could not hide his chagrin when by general
consent Ned Whiddon and a man of quiet appearance named Gabriel Batten
were selected. Dennis on his part was glad that Biddle was to remain a
simple member of the crew; he disliked the man's overbearing manner and
the shifty look in his eyes.
These matters having been settled, he explained that his purpose was to
sail away as soon as the vessel could be got ready, and steer a course
for England. It was needful to make haste, for the sound of the firing
might have been heard on Spanish ships at sea, and even now an enemy
might be making for the spot. The first thing was to inspect the
vessel at the quay and see what damage had been done. He asked the two
mates and Turnpenny to accompany him to the ship for this purpose.
Meanwhile he suggested that the others, with the assistance of the
natives, should give those who had been killed burial in the sea, and
he dispatched two of the maroons to the creek where they had left
Baltizar and one of their comrades in charge of the two prisoners, to
acquaint them with what had happened and bring them to the fort.
Boarding the Spanish vessel, he found that the mainmast was a complete
ruin; it would be necessary to replace it. This Ned Whiddon said would
be no difficult matter. A couple of men could soon fell a tall and
slender cedar in the woods, and though it was not advisable to spend
much time in trimming it, a few hours' work would suffice to fit it for
its use. Luckily the step was uninjured, and there was plenty of sound
rope on board from which to form new stays.
The deck had been a good deal knocked about by the shots from the fort,
but the damage done was not such as to render the vessel unnavigable as
soon as the mast should be stepped and the rigging repaired. Ned
Whiddon undertook to carry out the necessary work with the assistance
of men of his choice, and went back to the fort with Batten to make a
beginning.
Dennis and Turnpenny examined the vessel from stem to stern above and
below decks. In the captain's cabin they found a number of small bags
which on being opened they discovered to be full of pearls. The
commandant had evidently not come empty-handed from the fort. There
were also several chests containing pieces of eight, and in the hold
were twenty odd jars filled with gunpowder, and more than a hundred
jars of wine.
"'Tis my counsel to fling 'em overboard as soon as it be dark," said
Amos. "'Tis a goodish time since my comrades have tasted strong
liquor, and I fear me with such plenty they might drink until they were
drunken and fit for nought. And Jan Biddle with wine in him would be
no less than a madman."
"Ay. Tell me, Amos, what know you of that same loud-tongued mariner?"
"Why, sir, I know little. He do say he be an Englishman, and one time
second mate on a Dutch privateer; but what be the truth of it none can
say. He speaks the French and Dutch tongues as readily as English, and
has suffered at the hands of the Spaniards even more than most, by
reason of his unruly tongue. He is loved by none, but hath a certain
power over men; and I rejoice that he is not chosen for mate aboard
this vessel."
"I like not his looks. Your comrades have done wisely, I trow, in
rejecting him. And now, what think you of the chances of our purposed
voyage, Amos?"
"My heart! I warrant we can sail her merrily across the great ocean,
and with favouring winds may hope to see the blessed shores of England
in a matter of two months. And my soul hungers for the sight of the
old cliffs. By the mercy of God, who hath marvellously prospered our
doings, we will yet again come to haven in our dear native land."
"We will new christen her for luck, Amos. Her present name--I cannot
say the words--"
"_Nuestra Senora del Baria_--a papist name, sir, 'Our Lady of'--I know
not what. What name shall we give her?"
"What say you to _Mirandola_? Our comrade the monkey has without doubt
gotten him away to the woods, and there, mayhap, found old friends of
his kind. I hold the beast in affection, Amos, and would fain keep him
in remembrance."
"The _Mirandola_ it shall be, sir; 'tis a fair sounding name, and, if I
may speak my mind, befits a tight little craft somewhat better than a
heathen monkey. Though i' fecks, I'd liever call her by a plainer
name; yet it shall be as you say."
"And now, a matter that troubles me, Amos: what shall we do with the
Spaniards our captives?"
"Be jowned if I would let the knaves trouble me. Let 'em loose afore
we sail. There is much food, I doubt not, in the fort, and abundance
in the woods around. The knaves will not starve; t'ud be no great loss
if they did; and belike a vessel will come to this place ere many days
be past, and then they can tell the tale, with raging and cursing that
will harm us not a jot."
"It shall be done. And it will be well, I trow, to raze the fort to
the ground. It has been built with the blood and sweat of our
comrades; to destroy it will be a just reprisal."
"Ay, and make the knaves to dismantle it with their own hands. I would
fain scourge their naked backs as they have scourged mine, many's the
time."
"And the ordnance?"
"Burst it asunder. Why should we leave it sound to belch its shot,
mayhap, on English craft some day? God-a-mercy, 'twas a famous shot of
yours, sir, that sent the mainmast by the board, and I don't grudge it
'ee that your aim was truer than mine. 'Tis twenty-five year since I
served the ordnance on the _Anne Gallant_."
"And I had good practice on the _Maid Marian_. But you have not forgot
your cunning, Amos, and I warrant if we have occasion to use the piece
here in the stern you will make good firing. Now 'tis time to return
to the fort; I would not that Jan Biddle should stir up the rage of our
people against those unhappy Spaniards, and 'tis not unlike, we being
absent, he may do so."
"Ay, 'tis meet we trust not Jan Biddle overmuch. Let us go, sir."
They found on returning that Ned Whiddon had already gone into the
forest with two or three men to fell a tree for the mast. While he was
absent on this errand Dennis set part of his company to collect all the
Spaniards' small arms and pile them in readiness for conveyance to the
vessel, others to ram excessive charges of powder into the guns, and a
third gang to superintend the Spaniards in their enforced task of
dismantling the fort. Great charges of powder, of which there was an
ample store, were placed in barrels in each of the round towers, to be
fired at the last moment, for Dennis did not wish to risk an explosion,
which must be heard many miles away, until he was on the point of
sailing out on the _Mirandola_.
The work of preparation was continued throughout the day, with brief
pauses for meals. Ned Whiddon and his party toiled with such right
good will that he was able to announce, at nightfall, that after a
little more work in the morning the new mast would be ready for
stepping. This was especially good news, for in view of the possible
arrival of a Spanish vessel Dennis could not feel secure until the
_Mirandola_ was fairly out at sea. As soon as it was dark, Turnpenny
and Copstone went down to the vessel, and flung overboard the whole
store of wine save a few jars which they kept for emergencies. The
Spaniards, of whom about thirty had survived the fight, were again shut
up in the houses of the commandant and the officers, and Dennis
arranged that a careful watch should be kept through the night. Then,
tired out with his long labours, he gladly threw himself upon a couch
in one of the towers, and slept soundly until the dawn.
In the morning, as he went round the battlements with Turnpenny to see
that the guns had all been crammed with bursting charges, he was seized
with a whim to preserve two of them and carry them home to England.
"Me thinks they would make rare trophies for our folks to marvel at,"
he said to Amos with a smile. "What say you, Amos? Would not one look
exceeding well on the Hoe at Plymouth? And I think not Holles, my
steward, who is keeping my little place at Shaston warm for me till I
attain to man's estate,--I think not even he, puritan as he is, would
find cause why one should not stand at my gates."
"A rare conceit, sir. Pray you one be the saker stolen by the knaves
from the _Jesus_; t'other might be the demi-culverin you fired so
famously. They'd be good ballast aboard, moreover; pearls are of
greater price than weight; and there be room enough and to spare in the
hold."
With some trouble the two pieces were lowered over the battlements to
the quay and hoisted aboard the vessel, where Ned Whiddon and his crew
were already at work stepping the mast and overhauling the rigging. By
midday Whiddon declared with pride that the _Mirandola_ was ready for
sea. A great cheer greeted the announcement. No time was lost in
carrying stores, water, arms, and ammunition on board. When all was
safely stowed, Dennis, with Turnpenny as interpreter, had a final
interview with the commandant, to whom he made known his intention of
blowing up the towers of the fort, but leaving the buildings in the
centre of the enclosure intact. He said also that the native
pearl-fishers, with the maroons, had elected to coast along the shore
in their canoes until they reached a settlement of their own people.
Being well provided with arms, they could defend themselves against
pursuit even if there should be any disposition on the part of the
Spaniards to attempt to capture them.
Then, one after another, the guns were fired and burst to atoms by
means of long trains of powder. Last of all the charges in the towers
were exploded, and as the masonry toppled and fell after each
thunderous roar, the little company greeted the destruction with a
storm of cheers. When Dennis and his comrades turned their backs on
the place and went aboard the _Mirandola_, they left the once
stronghold a heap of ruins, amid which the Spaniards were already
moving about in desolation and despair.