Collected works of j s f.., p.74
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 74
“You shall be obeyed, Master Salkeld,” he replied, bowing low, but with a mocking smile about his lips.
“Where do you first touch land?” I inquired.
“I have already told you, Master Salkeld. Somewhere in the West Indies.”
“But you do not mean to carry me to the West Indies?” I cried. “Why, ’tis a journey of many thousands of miles!”
“Precisely. Nevertheless, you must undertake it. We touch no land until we make Barbadoes or Martinique.”
I said no more; it was useless. I was in the man’s power. Nothing that I could say or do would alter his purpose. There had been villainy and treachery — and my cousin, Jasper Stapleton, had worked it. I comprehended everything at that moment. I had been lured on board the Spanish vessel and subsequently drugged, in order that Jasper might rid himself of my presence. That was plainly to be seen. But what of the future? The West Indies, I knew, were thousands of miles away. They were in the hands of our hereditary enemies, the Spaniards. From them I should receive scant mercy or consideration. I was penniless — for my money had disappeared — and even if I had possessed money, what would it have benefited me in a savage land like that to which I was being carried? I might wait there many a long year without meeting with an English ship. I turned to the Spaniard.
“So I am a prisoner, Senor, — your prisoner?”
“My ship and my goods are at your disposal, Senor,” he replied.
“So long as I do not make any demands upon them, eh?”
“Say unreasonable demands, Master Salkeld. As a matter of fact you are free to walk or stand, sit or lie, wake or sleep as you please. I entertain you as I best can until we touch land — and then you go your own way. You have made a contract with me, you have paid your money, and now I have nothing to do but carry out my share of the bargain.”
“And that is —— ?”
“To take you to the West Indies.”
“Very good, Senor. Now we understand each other. You will perhaps not object to my telling you, that when I next meet my cousin, Master Jasper Stapleton, I will break his head for his share in this foul conspiracy.”
“I do not object in the least, Master Salkeld. But you do well to say, when you next meet him.”
“Why so, Senor?”
“Because it is so highly improbable. Indeed, you will never be so near England again as you are at this moment.”
I looked through the port, and saw the long, flat Lincolnshire coast. The day was dull and heavy, and the land was little more than a gray bank, but it meant much to me. I was being carried away from all that I loved, from my sweetheart, my uncle, my friends, from everything that had grown a part of my daily life. And I was going — where? That I knew not. Not to the West Indies — no, I was sure of that. Captain Manuel Nunez was an accomplished liar in everything, and I felt sure that he had another lie in reserve yet. At the thought of him and of Jasper’s villainy the blood boiled in my veins, and tears of rage and despair gathered in my eyes. But what was the use of anger or sorrow? I was powerless.
I now made up my mind to show a good face to all these troubles and difficulties, and, therefore, I strove to be as much at my ease as was possible under the circumstances. I walked the decks, talked with such of the men as knew a word or two of English, and cultivated as much of the captain’s acquaintance as my aversion to his wickedness would permit. I learnt the names of masts, sheets, stays, and sprits, and picked up other information of seafaring matters, thinking that it might some day be useful to me. I am bound to say that Senor Manuel Nunez was very courteous towards me. But what avails courtesy, when the courteous man is only waiting his time to injure you?
We had been at sea something like three weeks, and had passed Ushant four days previously, when, sailing south-by-west, we were overtaken by a gale and had to run before it with bare poles. Upon the second morning, our lookout, gazing across a stormy sea, cried that he saw a man clinging to a piece of wreckage on the lee bow, and presently all those on deck were conscious of the same sight. The man was drifting and tossing half a mile away, and had seen us, for he was making frantic efforts to attract our notice. I was somewhat surprised when Captain Nunez took steps to rescue him, for it would have fitted in with my notion of his character if he had suffered the wretch to remain unaided, However, he sent off a boat, which eventually brought away the man from his piece of wreckage, and had hard work to make the ship again, for the sea was running hard and high. The rescued man crouched in the stern, hiding his head in his hands, so that I did not see his face until he came aboard. Then it seemed familiar, but I could not bethink me where I had seen it before.
“And who art thou, friend?” asked Nunez.
“A mariner of Plymouth, good sir,” answered the man, “and sole survivor of the ship Hawthorn. Lost she is, and all hands, save only me.”
Then I suddenly recognized him. It was the Cornish sailor, Pharaoh Nanjulian. So the sea had given me a friend in need.
CHAPTER VI.
SCHEMES AND STRATAGEMS.
I WAS NOT minded to let Captain Nunez and the crew — every man of which was either Spaniard or Portugee — see that I had any knowledge of the man whom they had rescued, and therefore I presently went below and kept out of the way for a while. Somehow I felt a considerable sense of gratification at the thought of the Cornishman’s presence on board. He seemed to me a man of resource and of courage, and I no sooner set eyes on him in this remarkable fashion, than I began to think how he might aid me in making my escape from my present position.
After a time Nunez came down into the cabin where I sat, and began to talk with me.
“We have fallen in with a countryman of yours, Master Salkeld,” said he, regarding me closely, as if he wished to see how I took the news.
“Indeed!” said I. “The man just come aboard?”
“The same. A native of Cornwall, with an outlandish name, and an appetite as large as his body, judging by the way he eats.”
“He is no doubt hungry, Senor,” I said. “Perhaps he has been tossing about for a while.”
“A day and a night. One additional mouth, Master Salkeld, is what I did not bargain for.”
“But you would not have allowed the man to drift away to starvation and death?” I said.
“His life was no concern of mine, Master Salkeld. But I can make him useful; therefore he was worth saving. I shall enroll him as one of my crew, and carry him to the Indies.”
“And then?”
“Then he will go ashore with you, unless he prefers to go back with me to Cadiz — which he probably will not do.”
He left me then, and I sat wondering what he meant by saying that the English sailor would probably not care to go back to Spain with him. There seemed something sinister in his meaning. But I gave over thinking about it, for I was by that time firmly convinced that Captain Manuel Nunez was a thorough-paced scoundrel, and well fitted to undertake all manner of villainy, despite his polished manners and fine words. Also, I was certain that there was in store for me some unpleasant and possibly terrible fate, which I was powerless to avoid and which was certain to come. Therefore I had resigned myself to my conditions, and only hoped to show myself a true Englishman when my time of trouble came.
Nevertheless, many a sad hour and day did I spend, looking across the great wild waste of gray water and wondering what they were doing at Beechcot. In my sad thoughts and in my dreams I could see the little hamlet nestling against the purple Wold; the brown leaves piled high about the shivering hedgerows; the autumn sunlight shining over the close-cropped fields; and in the manor-house the good knight, my uncle, seated by his wood-fire, wondering what had become of me. Also I could see the old vicarage and the vicar, good Master Timotheus, thumbing his well-loved folios, and occasionally pushing his spectacles from his nose to look round and inquire whether there was yet news of the boy Humphrey. But more than these, I saw my sweetheart’s face, sad and weary with fear, and her eyes seemed as if they looked for something and were unsatisfied. And then would come worse thoughts — thoughts of Jasper and his villainy, and of what it might have prompted him to in the way of lies. He would carry home a straight and an ingenious tale — I was very sure of that. He would tell them I was drowned or kidnaped, and nobody would doubt his story. That was the worst thought of all — that my dear ones should be thinking of me as one dead while I was simply a prisoner, being carried I knew not where, nor to what fate.
On the evening of the second day after the Cornish sailor came aboard, the weather having moderated and the ship making good progress, I was leaning over the port bulwarks moodily gazing at the sea, when I felt a touch on my hand. Looking round, I saw the Englishman engaged in coiling a rope close to me. He continued his task and spoke in a low voice.
“I recognized you, master,” said he. “I looked through the skylight last night as you talked with the captain, and I knew you again. I know not how you came here, nor why, but it is strange company for a young English gentleman.”
“I was trapped on board,” I said.
“I thought so,” he responded. “But speak low, master, and take no heed of me. We can converse while I work, but it will not do for us to be seen talking too much. The less we are noticed together the better for our necks. How came you here, master? I had no thought of seeing you in such company.”
I told him as briefly as possible while he continued to coil the rope.
“Aye,” said he, when I had finished my story, “I expected something of that sort. Well, I am glad that the old Hawthorn left me swimming, though sorry enough that all her merry men are gone down below. But what! death must come. Now, young master, what can we do? I swore a solemn oath when your good uncle befriended me that I would serve you. This is the time. What can I do?”
“Alas,” said I, “I know not.”
“Do you know whither we are bound?” he asked.
“The Captain says to the West Indies. But I do not know if that be true or false.”
“More likely to be false than true, master. Now, then, hearken to me, young sir. I have seen a deal of life, and have been a mariner this thirty year or more. We must use our wits. Can you, do you think, find out what our destination really is?”
“I am afraid not,” I replied. “Nunez will not tell me more than he has already told me.”
“True,” said he; “true — you will get naught out of him. But I have a better chance. I can talk to the men — well it is that I know their lingo sufficiently for that. But nay, I will not talk to them, I will listen instead. They do not know that I understand Spanish. There are three of them speak broken English — they shall do the talking. I will keep my ears open for their Spanish — peradventure I shall hear something worth my trouble. You see, master, if we only know where we are going, and what we have to expect when we get there, we shall be in a much better position than we are now. For now we are as men that walk in a fog, not knowing where the next step will take them.”
“I will do whatever you wish,” said I.
“Then be careful not to have over-much converse with me, master. Yon Nunez has the eye of a hawk and the stealth of a viper, and if he does but suspect that you and I are in treaty together, he will throw me overboard with a dagger wound under my shoulder-blade.”
“How shall we hold converse, then?”
“As we are now doing. If I have aught to tell you I will give you a sign when you are near me. A wink, or a nod, or a cough — either will do. And what I have to say I will say quickly, so that whoever watches us will think we do no more than pass the time of day.”
So for that time we parted, and during the next few days I watched for Pharaoh Nanjulian’s sign eagerly, and was sadly disappointed when I received it not. Indeed, for nearly a week he took no notice of me whatever, giving me not even a sign of recognition as I passed him on the deck, so that Nunez was minded to remark upon his indifference.
“Your countryman seems but a surly dog,” said he. “I should have thought he would have sought your company, Master Salkeld, but he seems to care no more for it than for that of the ship’s dog.”
“He is a Cornishman and a sailor, and I am a Yorkshireman and a gentleman,” said I. “In England we should not associate one with the other, so wherefore should we here?”
“Nay, true, unless that you are companions in adversity, and that makes strange bedfellows,” said he. “But you English are not given to talking.”
I hoped that he really thought so, and that he had no idea of the thoughts within me. I was ready enough to talk when Pharaoh Nanjulian gave the signal.
It came at last as he stood at the wheel one night, and I stood near, apparently idling away my time.
“Now, master,” said he, “continue looking over the side and I will talk. I have found out where we are going.”
“Well?” I said, eager enough for his news.
“We are bound for Vera Cruz, master.”
“Where is that? In the West Indies?”
“It is a port of Mexico, master, and in the possession of the Spaniards, who are devils in human shape.”
“And what will they do with us there?”
“That I have also found out. It seems that your good cousin, Master Stapleton, did make a bargain with this noble Spanish gentleman, Captain Nunez, for getting you out of the way. The bo’s’n, Pedro, says that your cousin suggested that Nunez should sail you out to sea, and then knock you on the head and heave you overboard. But Nunez would have none of that, and decided that he would carry you with him to Vera Cruz.”
“And what will befall me at Vera Cruz?”
“He, being a pious man, will hand you over to the Holy Office.”
“To the Holy Office! You mean the Inquisitors? And they — —”
“They will burn you for a Lutheran dog, master.”
We were both silent for awhile. I was thinking of naught but the fiendish cruelty which existed in such a man as Manuel Nunez. Presently I thought of Pharaoh Nanjulian.
“And yourself?” I said. “What will he do with you?”
“I am to share your fate, master. Senor Nunez is a good and pious son of Mother Church, and he will wipe out a score or two of sins by presenting the stake with two English heretics.”
After that I thought again for a time.
“Pharaoh,” I said at last, “we will not die very willingly. I have a good deal to live for. There is my sweetheart and my uncle to go back to, and also I have an account to settle with Jasper Stapleton. I will make an effort to do all this before my time comes.”
“I am with you, master,” said he.
“Have you thought of anything?” I asked.
“Nothing, but that we must escape,” he answered.
“Could we manage that after the ship reaches Vera Cruz?”
“No, for a surety. We shall be watched as cats watch mice. If we ever set foot on a quay-side in that accursed port, master, we are dead men. God help us! I know what the mercies of these Spaniards are. I stood in the City of Mexico and saw two Englishmen burnt. That was ten years ago. But more of that anon. Let us see to the present. We are dead men, I say, if we set foot in Vera Cruz, or any port of that cruel region.”
“Then there is but one thing for us,” I said.
“And that, master?”
“We must leave this ship before she drops anchor.”
“That is a good notion,” said he, “a right good notion; but the thing is, how to do it?”
“Could we not take one of the boats some night, and get away in it?”
“Aye, but there are many things to consider. We should have to victual it, and then we might run short, for we should have no compass, and no notion, or very little, of our direction. We might starve to death, or die of thirst.”
“I had as soon die of thirst or hunger, as of fire and torture.”
“Marry, and so would I. Yea, it were better to die here on the wide ocean than in the market-place of Mexico or Vera Cruz.”
“Let us try it, Pharaoh. Devise some plan. I will not fail to help if I can be of any use.”
“I will think,” he said; “I will think till I find a means of escape. I reckon that we have still a month before us. It shall go hard if our English brains cannot devise some method whereby we may outwit these Spanish devils.”
So we began to plot and plan, spurred on by the knowledge of what awaited us in Mexico.
CHAPTER VII.
WE ESCAPE THE SPANIARDS.
NOW THAT I knew his real sentiments towards me, it was very difficult to preserve my composure and indifference in the presence of Captain Manuel Nunez. As I sat at table with him, or talked with him on deck or in his cabin, I had hard work to keep from telling him my real thoughts of his wicked nature. Nay, sometimes I was sore put to it to keep my hands from his throat. Nothing would have pleased me better than to find either him or my cousin Jasper in some lonely spot where no odds could have favored them or me. Then my wrongs should have received full vengeance, and none would have blamed me for meting it out to these two villains. Judge how hard it was for me to have to associate, week after week, with one of the men who had so deeply wronged me, and, moreover, to have to preserve towards him a certain degree of cordiality. Try as I would, however, I could not give Nunez as much in the way of politeness as Nunez gave me. My manners were surly at the best, and I had much ado to preserve them at all.
Getting in the way of fair winds, we sighted the Bahamas, and passed the north-west coast of Cuba somewhere about the beginning of September. We were then some five hundred miles from Vera Cruz, but it was not until Christmas week that we bore down upon the Mexican coast. It was, I think, on Christmas morning that I first saw the shores of that beautiful land, whose natural loveliness served but to make more evident the horrible cruelties of the men who had seized and possessed it. Fair and wonderful it was as the mists lifted under the sun’s warmth to see the giant peak of Orizaba lifting its head, snow-white and awful, into the clear air, while full seventeen thousand feet below it the land lay dim and indistinct, nothing more than a bank of gray cloud.
