Across the Spanish Main by Harry Collingwood (uplifting novels .txt) 📖

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