Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer Part 42

"I brought you to this--I! Do you recall it? You owe this to me. You had your revenge--this is mine. But it's not over yet. I'm watching you. I shall not come out here again, but I'm watching you, remember that! I can see you!"

"Hornigold, for G.o.d's sake, have pity!"

"You know no G.o.d; you have often boasted of it--neither do I. And you never knew pity--neither do I!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I wanted to let you know there was water here ... There is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I; look!"]

"Take that knife you bear--kill me!"

"I don't want you to die--not yet. I want you to live--live--a long time, and remember!"

"Hornigold, I'll make amends! I'll be your slave!"

"Ay, crawl and cringe now, you dog! I swore that you should do it! It's useless to beg me for mercy. I know not that word--neither did you.

There is nothing left in me but hate--hate for you. I want to see you suffer----"

"The tide! It's coming back. I can't endure this heat and thirst! It won't drown me----"

"Live, then," said the boatswain. "Remember, I watch!"

He threw his glance upward, stopped suddenly, a fierce light in that old eye of his.

"Look up," he cried, "and you will see! Take heart, man. I guess you won't have to wait for the tide, and the sun won't bother you long.

Remember, I am watching you!"

He turned and walked away, concealing himself in the copse once more where he could see and not be seen. The realization that he was watched by one whom he could not see, one who gloated over his miseries and sufferings and agonies, added the last touch to the torture of the buccaneer. He had no longer strength nor manhood, he no longer cried out after that one last appeal to the merciless sailor. He did not even look up in obedience to the old man's injunction. What was there above him, beneath him, around him, that could add to his fear? He prayed for death. They were the first and last prayers that had fallen from his lips for fifty years, those that day. Yet when death did come at last he shrank from it with an increasing terror and horror that made all that he had pa.s.sed through seem like a trifle.

When old Hornigold had looked up he had seen a speck in the vaulted heaven. It was slowly soaring around and around in vast circles, and with each circle coming nearer and nearer to the ground. A pair of keen and powerful eyes were aloft there piercing the distance, looking, searching, in every direction, until at last their glance fell upon the figure upon the rock. The circling stopped. There was a swift rush through the air. A black feathered body pa.s.sed between the buccaneer and the sun, and a mighty vulture, hideous bird of the tropics, alighted on the sands near by him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: h.e.l.l had no terror like to this, which he, living, suffered.]

So this was the judgment of G.o.d upon this man! For a second his tortured heart stopped its beating. He stared at the unclean thing, and then he shrank back against the rock and screamed with frantic terror. The bird moved heavily back a little distance and stopped, peering at him.

He could see it by turning his head. He could drive it no farther. In another moment there was another rush through the air, another, another!

He screamed again. Still they came, until it seemed as if the earth and the heavens were black with the horrible birds. High in the air they had seen the first one swooping to the earth, and with unerring instinct, as was their habit, had turned and made for the point from which the first had dropped downward to the sh.o.r.e.

They circled themselves about him. They sat upon the rock above him.

They stared at him with their l.u.s.tful, carrion, jeweled eyes out of their loathsome, featherless, naked heads, drawing nearer--nearer--nearer.

He could do no more. His voice was gone. His strength was gone. He closed his eyes, but the sight was still before him. His bleeding, foamy lips mumbled one unavailing word:

"Hornigold!"

From the copse there came no sound, no answer. He sank forward in his chains, his head upon his breast, convulsive shudders alone proclaiming faltering life. h.e.l.l had no terror like to this which he, living, suffered.

There was a weight upon his shoulder now fierce talons sank deep into his quivering flesh. In front of his face, before a pair of lidless eyes that glowed like fire, a h.e.l.lish, cruel beak struck at him. A faint, low, ghastly cry trembled through the still air.

And the resistless tide came in. A man drove away the birds at last before they had quite taken all, for the torn arms still hung in the iron fetters; an old man, blind of one eye, the black patch torn off the hideous hole that had replaced the socket. He capered with the nimbleness of youth before the ghastly remains of humanity still fastened to that rock. He shouted and screamed, and laughed and sang.

The sight had been too horrible even for him. He was mad, crazy; his mind was gone. He had his revenge, and it had eaten him up.

The waters dashed, about his feet and seemed to awaken some new idea in his disordered brain.

"What!" he cried, "the tide is in. Up anchor, lads! We must beat out to sea. Captain, I'll follow you. Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!"

He waded out into the water, slowly going deeper and deeper. A wave swept him off his feet. A hideous laugh came floating back over the sea, and then he struck out, and out, and out----

And so the judgment of G.o.d was visited upon Sir Henry Morgan and his men at last, and as it was writ of old:

_With what measure they had meted out, it had been measured back to them again!_

[Ill.u.s.tration]