With Drake on the Spanish Main Part 6

Turnpenny flung down his axe and fairly jumped.

"My heart!" he cried, gleefully; "'tis the very marrow of the tale! I be free, free! For four year I have forgot the word. Sound of limb, straight of eye, with all my five wits, praise G.o.d above! Speak your thought, sir; Haymoss Turnpenny is your man."

CHAPTER VIII

Half-Pikes and Machetes

The Spaniards had by this time been buried. The two maroons were still hacking at the trees. Nothing had been reported by the man on the look-out. Glancing at the sun, Dennis guessed that it was still two or three hours from setting. But for interruptions there would be ample time to develop his plan.

"Come beneath the shade," he said to Turnpenny. "There is much to be said and done. If perchance a man lands from the s.h.i.+p, we must take him prisoner. If several come, we must fight them at the gully. If they lie secure, and we are undisturbed, we shall capture their vessel this night."

"I believe it, sir, partly; I'd believe it more firm if I understood."

"Give me your judgement on my plan. At sunset we will haul some logs down to the sh.o.r.e and push off in the boat, as if we were the Spaniards with their slaves. You and I will rig ourselves in the doublets and hose of the two yonder; it will go hard with us if, in the dark, we do not mislead the Spaniards into security. We will mount into the vessel, and if luck favour us we shall be masters of the craft before the Spaniards have awakened to the danger."

"A n.o.ble plan, but fearsome," said Turnpenny, shaking his head. "We shall be two short, sir. We rig up as Spaniards, you and me; granted; but the knaves on deck will see two Spaniards instead of three, and they will want to know what has become of Haymoss Turnpenny."

"We will take our prisoner. Then they will see three Spaniards, and if they then miss Amos Turnpenny, let them suppose that the sailor man has turned troublesome, and been left on the island, to bring him to a reasonable humility."

"Ay, sure, that unties the knot. But I would not give a groat for my chance of seeing Plimworth Sound again if the knaves spy the head of Haymoss sticking out o' the Spanish doublet. The captain, he be a man of desperate fight; no miserable dumbledore is he; 'tis a word and a blow with him; I've seed him kill a man of his own breed for no more than a wry word."

"We must trust to our disguise, and the dark."

"But the maroons, sir; they'll be of no use 'ithout weapons, and if they climb aboard with naked steel in their hands, 'tis all over with us."

"You and I will mount first."

"That would put the knaves on guard at once. 'Tis always us poor slaves that come over side last into the boat and go first out of it, so as never to give us no chance of making off. They need not be afeard; whither could poor miserable wretches escape away? But there it is."

"Well, Amos, we must accept the wonted course, though I would fain go first, with you at my elbow."

"It is my very own thought, sir. No white man can trust a black un in the deadly breach. But be jowned if I see any ways o' they maroons getting aboard with arms in their hands."

"Nor I. Mayhap an idea will enter our conceits anon."

"My heart! There be another thing I had clean forgot. We have ta'en their irons off."

"We must put them on again. We will not fail for the sake of a clank."

"Ay, but there's the rub, sir. The maroons will show fight if we attempt that same. Poor souls! Having no language and no intellecks to speak of, they'll not understand the main of our intent. They will suppose 'tis but a change of masters, and I fear me my few words o'

Spanish will not suffice to set their minds at ease."

"You made them understand you a while ago; you must try again. But a word more. I judge the sun is grown far on the west; 'twill soon be time to put our fortunes to the hazard. And, lest our dallying here waken the suspicions of the Spaniards, let us don these articles of apparel e'en now, and fix on the irons, and then go down to the sh.o.r.e, the maroons hauling the stripped logs thitherwards. The ropes are handy here."

"What, sir, haul logs in the very sight of the knaves?"

"Ay, do we not wish to deceive them? If they see two Spaniards marshalling the black men, cracking their whips, moreover, will they not believe 'tis their comrades, bent on finis.h.i.+ng the work this night?

'Tis growing towards dusk; the vessel lies out too far for them to mark our lineaments; 'twill lull them into a fool's security."

"And so it will. I will presently go speak to the maroons with my tongue, and, seeing that the poor mortals lack understanding, with my fingers and my eyes and my ten toes if the case do require it."

Dennis watched the sailor somewhat anxiously. It would be a stroke of rank ill-fortune if they refused to have their manacles replaced.

Everything depended on their docility. To his joy, after some minutes of gesticulation, Turnpenny came back, his broad face beaming with conscious self-esteem.

"Be jowned if I haven't done it easy!" he said. "I spoke 'em plain, and to make all clear, I put my two hands together, with one finger pointing aloft: that stood for yonder vessel. Then I pointed to this doublet, and to yours, and set my face to a most wondrous frown, by the which they understood that you and me pa.s.s for Spaniards. A firk with my cutla.s.s did signify our warlike intent, a thrust of my arms forth and back pictured the sweep of oars; and, to make an end o't, they understand our fixed purpose and are keen set to lend us their aid."

"Admirably contrived!" said Dennis. "Now, while I bring the Spaniard to bear us company, do you replace the irons and fasten ropes about the logs. Darkness will steal upon us unawares and prevent the first part of our contriving."

As Dennis returned to the gully to fetch the Spaniard, he saw that Mirandola was keeping pace with him through the trees. Since the event of the morning the monkey had held himself aloof, as if scared by the presence of so many strange men. Dennis halted and called to him, but the animal blinked and made no movement to descend.

"Ah, Mirandola," said Dennis, as he walked on, "even the wisest of us have our failings. Jealousy, my friend, is a canker. I love thee none the less because I have a new friend. Will you not believe it? Is there not room for both--Turnpenny and Mirandola? If we succeed in this enterprise, you and Amos must be made at one."

Some little while later, in the growing dusk, the four maroons were hauling a heavy log out from the undergrowth that fringed the sea.

Dennis and Turnpenny urged them with rough cries and persistent cracking of their whips. As soon as they came within view of the vessel the ropes were cast off, and they all made their way back. When they returned with a second log, there came a faint hail from the vessel.

"Ay, ay, 'od rot you!" shouted Turnpenny indistinctly in response, knowing that at the distance his voice could not be recognized.

"Belike 'tis a call to us to embark, sir," he said to Dennis. "Mark you, they called us; no man dare say they did not call us; and if they do not like us when we appear, 'tis not because we are not proper men."

The logs were laid alongside of those brought down the previous day; then the men released the boat's moorings, and hauled her off the shoal where she lay into water deep enough to float her. By this time it was almost dark, and the number of men who clambered into the boat could not easily be counted on board the vessel, nor would it be noticed that the maroons hoisted each a large bundle. At the last moment Dennis had decided not to enc.u.mber the boat with the captive Spaniard. He had thought of using the man to reply in Spanish to any hail from the vessel during the pa.s.sage from the sh.o.r.e; but this might be attended with danger if the Spaniard should have courage enough to risk the inevitable penalty should he raise his voice to warn his comrades.

Accordingly he was left on sh.o.r.e, gagged and bound, in a spot where he might easily be discovered by the Spaniards next day if the enterprise failed. There were no wild beasts to molest him, and the place chosen was remote from the haunts of the boa constrictor.

The maroons pulled steadily towards the silent vessel, lying low in the water some two hundred yards off sh.o.r.e. Already a lamp had been lit aboard. Every member of the little party in the boat was tense with antic.i.p.ation. Not a word was spoken. The silence would cause no wonderment among the Spaniards on the vessel; a party of free negroes might have filled the air with their babblement; but the maroons partook of the reserve of the Indian race, and, living, as they did, in a state of deadly feud with the Spaniards, they nourished a deep silent longing for vengeance in their hearts. Besides, these men were cowed slaves, and, after the hard day's toil they were supposed to have undergone, no one would have expected them to be talkative or merry.

Stroke by stroke the boat drew nearer to the s.h.i.+p. At length a voice hailed it, and a flare was kindled in the waist of the vessel for its guidance.

"Why do you return so late?" came the question in Spanish.

Turnpenny answered in pa.s.sable Spanish, but in a m.u.f.fled tone--

"Wait till we come aboard."

A few seconds later the boat came beneath the vessel's side and was made fast. The biggest of the maroons--he who had flung his axe at the Spaniard--got up and clambered aboard. On his back he bore a huge load of bananas. Close to his clanking heels swarmed a second man; before the first was well over the bulwarks a third was beginning the ascent, each carrying a similar bundle. The fourth man had but just set his foot on the rope ladder that hung over the side when there came to the ears of Dennis and the sailor, nervously awaiting their turn, the sound of altercation above. One of the Spaniards had bestowed a kick upon the foremost of the slaves, and, laughing loud, grabbed at the load of fruit upon his back. The maroon, instead of dropping his burden and cowering away, as was the wont of slaves, held firmly to it, and stepped back to avoid the Spaniard's clutch.

"You hound!" cried the man, with an oath, and s.n.a.t.c.hed a knife from his belt.

Then, to his utter amazement, the maroon let his load fall indeed, contriving as he did so to rip out of it a shortened half-pike which was cunningly concealed there. The light of the torch fell on the naked steel. With a loud cry of rage the Spaniards who had been lolling on the vessel's side sprang towards the slave, cursing his audacity, shouting to their supposed comrades in the boat below to ask the meaning of this unheard-of act of mutiny. But he stood his ground, glaring upon them, holding his weapon to ward them off. And now at his side his three fellow-slaves were ranged, their bundles lying at their feet, glistening half-pikes in their hands. Yelling with fury the Spaniards, armed at the moment only with their knives, pressed forward to teach these mutineers a lesson. What access of madness had seized them? Where was the abject look of terror with which they usually shrank from their masters? What could the men in charge have been about? The Spaniards rushed to the fray with the violence of wrath and outraged bewilderment.

At this first moment the fight was not unequal. The six Spaniards who had been on deck found that with their knives they could not come to close quarters with the four stalwart maroons wielding half-pikes. The latter, moreover, had kicked off the fetters loosely set about their ankles, and moved with freedom. And while the Spaniards were shouting for their comrades in the cabin and, as they supposed, in the boat below to come to their aid, the numbers of the mutineers were suddenly augmented. At the first sound of the scuffle, Dennis and Turnpenny, each armed with a cutla.s.s, had sprung on to the s.h.i.+p, the former by the ladder behind the last maroon, the latter, with a sailor's agility, leaping up to the gunwale and hauling himself over. When they reached the deck they found the Spaniards dancing round the little group of slaves, who were keeping them at bay with valorous lunges of their weapons.

No sooner had the two Englishmen joined the combatants than they found that they had now the whole s.h.i.+p's company to reckon with. A huge Spaniard rushed from the main cabin behind the maroon, a machete in one hand, a pistol in the other. There was a flash, a sharp barking sound; one of the slaves staggered and fell. Other Spaniards came headlong out, in their haste not pausing to bring fire-arms. From the forecastle ran one of the sick maroons. The instant his eyes took in the scene, he s.n.a.t.c.hed up a belaying pin from the deck and, weak as he was, threw himself into the melee. Now had come the chance for which he had so long hungered, and his black blood seethed as he rushed to pay off old scores.

There was hot work then amids.h.i.+ps that narrow vessel. Cutla.s.s and pike were matched, not for the first time, against the long Spanish knife.

Under the disadvantage of surprise the Spaniards, though they outnumbered their a.s.sailants, were not so effectively armed for the fray. The maroons laid about them doughtily; they knew how terrible a weapon was the knife at close quarters, and their whole purpose was to hold their masters off and cripple them if they could.

The big Spaniard who had rushed first from the cabin and fired at the maroon found himself immediately afterwards engaged with a lithe young man who, though clad in a Spanish doublet, was certainly not a fellow-countryman of his. Instinctively, as it seemed, captain singled out captain. Dennis made a vigorous cut at him, but the blade was fouled by the shrouds above his head, and the blow, losing half its force, was easily warded off by the Spaniard's machete. He sprang back; if his opponent had been a little nimbler Dennis would have been at his mercy; but the Spaniard was gross with idleness and good living; heavy of movement he failed to seize his advantage, though in the lunge his knife cut the lad's doublet, and gashed his sword arm in the recovery.