With Drake on the Spanish Main

by Herbert Strang

Maiden Isle Again

As they sailed back in the pinnace to the secret haven, the weary adventurers were surrounded by their comrades, and feasted their ears with wondrous tales of what had befallen them. Ellis Hixom also had a story to tell. A few days after the departure of the company, there had staggered into the clearing three men in the last stage of exhaustion. Two were English, one French. They were pitiable objects, their eyes bright with fever, their cheeks haggard with famine, their feet blistered and bleeding from long wandering in the woods. Each man carried a bag of pearls.

And they told a pitiful story. They had escaped, they said, from captivity in Nombre de Dios, and set out with three comrades, bearing plunder from the houses of their captors. It was well known along the coast that Drake was somewhere in hiding, and they marched eastward, hoping by good hap to light upon his encampment. But as they rested one night, the leader had overheard a plot on the part of three of the men to slay the rest and make off with the booty. Fearing that if it came to a fight he and his two comrades would stand but little chance against the others, who were men of exceeding great strength and ferocity, the three had slipped away in the darkness and had since been tramping for days through the forest, unable to find sufficient food, and subsisting on berries and mushrooms. Once they had almost stumbled into a village of maroons, and fled for their lives, dreading lest they should be taken for Spaniards and slain before the error was discovered.

"And where are they now?" asked Drake.

"On the Pascha, sir," replied Hixom, "where they are slowly recovering of their calentures."

"And the name of the leader?"

"Jan Biddle, by his own account a skilful mariner and——"

"Ay, I have heard tell of him," interrupted Drake with a grim smile. "Master Hazelrig," he added, calling Dennis up, "I learn that the captain of your mutineers waits your judgement on my vessel."

He repeated what Hixom had told him.

"What is the name of the other Englishman, Master Hixom?" asked Dennis.

"Dick Rackstraw, methinks. The Frenchman's name is Michel Barren."

"Then what has become of our comrade Billy Hawk, I wonder? Biddle and his crew deserted from us with the treasure, when we came ashore in our boat. Billy Hawk went after them; I fear me there has been foul play."

"We will enquire into that matter when we gain our haven," said Drake, "and see what Master Biddle has to say for himself."

As soon as he reached the haven, Drake boarded the Pascha and called Biddle and his companions before him. He listened patiently to the man's wild tale, then sent a boat ashore to bring off Dennis and Turnpenny. Biddle's jaw dropped when he saw them come over the side. He attempted to bluster it out, but Drake cut him short.

"You are a foul liar and a mutineer," he said sternly. "Art a murderer also? What didst thou to Billy Hawk thy comrade? Answer to the point, villain."

"Afore God, sir, I know nought of him. With me came but four men, and two of those lie dead in the forest, of a strange sickness that got hold of them after that they had drunken of the water of a certain river. Of Billy Hawk I saw nor heard nought."

"My poor comrade!" said Turnpenny. "I fear me he be gone or alost."

"These are your men," said Drake, turning to Dennis. "The punishment of mutiny is death. Do with them as you list."

"I would fain leave them in your hands, sir," replied Dennis. "For me, I would not that any man should die."

"I will consider of it. Have them put in irons and carried below."

Next day he decided, on Dennis's intercession, to content himself with holding the men closely confined in the vessel. The bags of pearls were taken from them and handed to Dennis and Turnpenny. And ere the day was out Robert Pike was sent to join them. Drake had learnt of the mischievous part the man had played, which had resulted in the failure of his attack on the mule trains.

"A little darkness and solitude may teach him to refrain from the bottle," he said.

The enterprise had so nearly succeeded that when Drake declared he would make the attempt again, as soon as the time came for another convoy of treasure to cross the isthmus, every man of his company eagerly besought him for a place in the expedition. But Dennis reminded him of his promise to lend him a pinnace in which to sail to Maiden Isle and bring off his comrades.

"I will hold to my word," said Drake. "You and your brawny henchman have suffered less than the most of my men, by reason, I wot, of your being inured to hardships on your island. Some days must needs pass before we are ready to attempt other enterprises. The island is but a day's sail, you said?"

"Ay, sir, and with good hap we should return on the second day, or the third at most."

"Then take the Minion pinnace, and good hap go with you. You will need men. Choose out eight according to your mind, and a few maroons also. Juan was with you, I bethink me; he will doubtless serve you right faithfully. In sooth, I shall be mighty rejoiced to have with me the dozen men you go to find, for if they be in spirit and body like to you and your henchman, they will be most serviceable when I make my next journey to Panama. I would go fetch them myself, as I had purposed, but that our preparations demand my presence here."

Next day, then, the Minion pinnace sailed out of the little haven with a crew of eight Englishmen and five maroons, three of whom were the men who had accompanied Dennis from the island. Mirandola also was on board. He had disappeared when Dennis set off with Drake to cross the isthmus, but had evidently kept a watch on the settlement, for the day after they returned he came out of the forest and attached himself to his old master with demonstrations of delight. A brisk breeze was blowing off shore; the pinnace was a first-rate sailer; by midday they were in sight of the island, and in the afternoon they rounded the shoulder of the cliff, Turnpenny steering the vessel into the gully.

Dennis, standing in the bows, caught sight of a group of men beyond the pool, near his sheds. They were partly hidden by the foliage, and when they saw the strange vessel making straight towards them, with the evident intention of coming to an anchorage, they took to their heels and disappeared.

"Poor souls! they take us for Spaniards," said Turnpenny. "I warrant they be most desperately in the dumps. 'Tis nigh a month since we departed hence."

The pinnace dropped anchor beside the Maid Marian, and the men went ashore.

"Blow a blast," said Dennis to one of the men, who carried a trumpet, "with notes that will be familiar to their ears."

As the shrill notes rang out, he stepped ahead of the men, with Mirandola on his shoulder. Before long a man appeared among the trees far up the chine.

"Hallo hoy!" shouted Turnpenny. "Be that you, Tom Copstone? Come, comrade, never be afeard. We've come to take 'ee off, poor soul, and bring 'ee to Master Drake, who will make us all rich with much gold and treasure. Come, my hearts, Ned Whiddon, and Hugh Curder, and all."

Turnpenny's well-known voice was more successful than the trumpet's notes in banishing the men's mistrust. Soon they came hasting down the gully, Copstone leading.

"I said it! I knew it," he cried, as he approached. "'You and me, Haymoss'—the blessed words stayed in my noddle, and I knew 'ee would come back somewhen, dear soul. But we be in piteous case. 'Tis a long ninny-watch we ha' kept, and hope was wellnigh drownded, sir. We could not make it out; we was mazed, every man of us; but you be come back, praise be to God."

He told how the disappearance of the Mirandola had filled them first with consternation, then with bitter rage. Some of the men declared that they had been decoyed to the island; that they had been betrayed and deserted for the sake of the treasure. From the first Copstone and Whiddon had absolutely refused to believe that Dennis and Turnpenny had wilfully left them; Hugh Curder, indeed, had made a shrewd guess at what had actually happened; but the rest clung to their first notion, gave way to bursts of rage and reviling, and as the days passed, settled down into a state of moody despair.

Copstone had tried to induce them to fit out the Maid Marian for sea, but he had found it impossible to whip up enough energy among them. They had some reason for their reluctance, inasmuch as, the stores of the Maid Marian having been put aboard the Mirandola, there was no provision for a long voyage. The fruits of the island would spoil in a week or so, whereas if they clung to the island they were at least sure of finding a sufficient subsistence. But they had been troubled even on this point, for some of the men fell ill through recklessly eating fruits and berries without first ascertaining whether they were fit for food, and with broken health their spirits had been still further depressed.

"Poor souls!" said Turnpenny. "'Ee do look a wangery and witherly crew. But 'ee be all here, all twelve, not a man lacking? My heart! where be Gabriel Batten?"

"He never come back!"

"Never come back! What do 'ee mean?"

"We looked for en, up along and down along, but nary a crim of him did we see."

"Ay, and another be gone, too," said Hugh Curder. "But a sennight agone, poor Joe Toogood vanished out of our sight, and we never seed him again."

"Be there devils upon the island, Haymoss?" asked Ned Whiddon, anxiously. "Be there pixies that lead poor souls into some ditch or quagmire, where they be swallowed quick in the pluffy ground? Once we was bold mariners all, but now we be poor timorsome creatures, afeard when the wind soughs in the trees."

Dennis remembered the boa-constrictor from whose clammy coils he had saved the monkey that now sat upon his shoulder.

"'Twas no sprites nor pixies, comrades," he said. "Without doubt they came unawares upon a big serpent that charmed them first with his fiery eyes, and then swathed them in his fearsome coils till he had crushed the life out of them. Poor souls! poor souls!"

"But now 'tis time to be merry, lads," said Amos quickly, "for here we be, and our pinnace yonder is named the Minion, the same as the bark that Captain Hampton handled so cunningly at St. John d'Ulua; and we be goin' to take 'ee all back to Master Drake, who lies by a secret haven, in little small huts built by the maroons; and there be archery butts, and a smith's anvil, and other such homely things. And we have seen wondrous things, my lads—the blue south sea beyond, and the treasure town, and Master Drake be set on leading us forth to adventure for gold and jewels beyond price. 'Tis time to be merry, souls!"

And catching the infection of his cheery good-will, Hugh Curder flung his hat in the air and began—

Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain,
Nor helps good hearts in need.

Dennis had transferred to the Mirandola—now, alas! at the bottom of the sea—the greater part of the Maid Marian's stores that he kept in his sheds; but there was a goodly remnant still in the cave, and this he determined to put on board the Minion and carry to Port Diego. The afternoon was too far advanced for the work to be completed that night; so he determined to sleep on the island and make an early start next morning. As soon as it was light he sent a number of Turnpenny's old comrades in different directions across the island to get a supply of fresh fruit, while the men he had brought from the mainland set about carrying the stores from the cave to the pinnace.

They had not been long at the work, however, when Ned Whiddon came hurrying back.

"God-a-mercy, sir," he cried, "we have spied a crew of strangers on the south shore, and in the offing two vessels at anchor. They be all clad and armed in the Spanish fashion, and when they set eyes on us they gave chase, and but that we know the island now as well as we know the lanes to home, none of us would have 'scaped."

Other men came in while he was speaking. Dennis trembled for the fate of those who had gone towards the northern shore and had not yet returned.

"'Tis ill news indeed," he said. "Run, Curder, after the men that have gone northward, and warn them that Spaniards are here to trouble us, lest they have not already discovered it. Comrades," he added, addressing the men about him, whose countenances bespoke their alarm—"comrades, we must take counsel together. What think you, Amos, we should do?"

"Why, sir, we should steal out in the pinnace as soon as our men be back along, leaving these stores, and thread a way betwixt the reefs to nor'ward; for the knaves could not follow us save in their boats."

"Ay, sir," said Copstone, "that be the true way of it. God send the tide be high enough to serve."

"Then get aboard and make all ready to depart. Amos, look to all things, and make the rest of our comrades to embark as they arrive. I will run to the top of the cliff to spy if the coast be clear."

But on reaching the spot whence he had often before looked so longingly and vainly for a sail, he made a most unwelcome discovery. About a mile to the south-west of the island lay a large vessel, which, since she was busily engaged in signalling, was clearly a consort of the two ships that Whiddon had seen. Keeping well under cover, Dennis raced along to a point half a mile south, whence the whole southern offing was visible. There were the two vessels; and, even as he looked, a boat was lowered from the nearest of them, rapidly filled with men, and was rowed towards the beach.

The sight was enough to cause the boldest heart to quake. If the pinnace ran out of the gully, she would have to pass within half a mile of the ship, for the tide was low, and even the little Minion drew too much water to make her way northward until she had run at least half a mile out to sea. This would bring her under the guns of the third vessel, and the Spaniards must be poor marksmen indeed if they failed to hit her at this range.

He was beginning to retrace his steps when Turnpenny came up hurriedly.

"We be all aboard, sir, save yourself and Nick Joland. Have 'ee seen him?"

"No."

"He be but late better of a fever, as Tom telled me; pray he be not swooned."

At this moment they heard loud shouts to their right. Running down through the trees, careful not to expose themselves, they saw four Spaniards chasing this very Nick Joland, a thin cadaverous-looking man whose stumbling gait betrayed his weakness. He was making almost in a straight line for a large bignonia bush that stood alone at the end of the narrow clearing just below where the two men were watching.

With one accord Dennis and Turnpenny stole to the bush and dropped down behind it.

"Let Joland pass," whispered Dennis; "then we can tackle the knaves as they come up."

"Without arms?" replied Turnpenny.

Dennis nodded. In a few moments the fugitive, panting hard, ran past the bush. The four Spaniards, running in a body, were close at his heels.

"Now!" Dennis whispered.

They sprang out with a yell, and though they were unarmed, the odds were not utterly against them, for the Spaniards were startled by this unexpected onset. A single blow from Turnpenny's sledge-hammer fist stretched one of them senseless on the ground. Dennis felled his man, but his arm was less powerful, and the Spaniard began dizzily to regain his feet while Dennis grappled with another. As he rose he reeled just within reach of Turnpenny's arm. Catching him round the middle, the seaman flung him bodily at the fourth Spaniard, who was making furiously at him with drawn sword, Their heads collided with a terrific thud, and down they fell on the grass together.

"The seaman flung him bodily at the fourth Spaniard."

Meanwhile Dennis had come to grips with the third man, a heavy and muscular fellow, who had only been prevented by the suddenness of the onslaught from using his sword, which he was unable in the surprise of the moment to shorten before Dennis was within his guard. Dropping the weapon, he strove to crush his antagonist by sheer strength. But Dennis was a wrestler. He neatly tripped the Spaniard, who fell, dragging his opponent with him. With a tremendous effort, he heaved himself uppermost and pinned Dennis to the ground. His hand was already on Dennis's throat when suddenly a bright object hurtled through the air, striking him with terrific force on the side of the head. His grip relaxed, he fell with a groan upon Dennis, the object that had struck him clattering to the ground.

Dennis was up in a moment. The strange missile was the headpiece of one of the Spaniards. It had fallen from his head in the tussle, and been picked up by Nick Joland, who, seeing the diversion in his favour, had hurried up at the critical moment in time to save Dennis from strangulation.

"Dead as door-nails!" said Turnpenny succinctly, seeing Dennis glance at the Spaniards on the ground. "'Tis a terrible heave-up, sir; we were best to run back along to our comrades in the pinnace, for there be gashly work afore us. And we will take these knaves' swords and calivers. Crymaces! there be more running towards us, and a round dozen; we durst not bide their coming. We have but bare time to get back to the chine. Stir your stumps, Nick Joland; we can't save 'ee twice, man."