CHAPTER IV THE ISLAND ELDORADO
DeNortier now allowed me to come and go upon the ship as I chose; only the ever present Herrick dogged my footsteps every minute of my waking time, and dutifully locked me in at night. I was at a loss to account for this sudden liberty; perhaps the pirate thought that he was now in his own dominion; perhaps he no longer feared me, and so allowed me this much of freedom. I knew not the reason, nor did I ponder over it, so long as he allowed me to roam the decks unmolested.
It was on the fourth day after we had parted from the little vessel on which Steele and the maiden had left us, that I heard the watchman on the mast call, "Land! Land!" It was about seven in the morning when I heard the cry, and hastily dressing myself, I rushed on deck. There to the west of us, loomed up what appeared to be an island, and a couple of hours' time brought us to it.
It was a beautiful spot; any sort of land would have been welcome after the long, weary voyage, but such a land as this was doubly so. Long, feathery trees fringed the water's edge; tropic flowers, wondrous, many-hued, bloomed everywhere; strange birds, their plumage gorgeous and brilliant, flitted from tree to tree, and filled the air with their songs; fruits, luscious and tempting, hung from the trees and lay upon the ground; everywhere profusion and plenty seemed to reign.
No wonder that this lovely spot had been chosen by the pirate for his home; such a place as this was an earthly paradise, with the needs of existence already supplied. The climate was soft and balmy, and though it must have been about the middle of November, the air was as warm and pleasant as a May morning.
The voice of DeNortier sounded at my elbow: "Welcome, Sir Thomas! Welcome to Eldorado!"
"And so this is Eldorado?" I said. "Long have I searched for Eldorado; I had not looked to find it here."
"Fate plays us many strange tricks," he answered, his eyes upon the island.
"Where is this Eldorado?" I inquired.
"It is near the coast of Cuba," he answered, "which is only a few leagues distant. I discovered it several years ago on one of my expeditions. It is safe and pleasant, out of the track of stray ships, and here, when home from my voyages, I reign as though I were a king."
The ship had fired a culverin some moments ago, and now, in answer to the signal, a long canoe put off from the shore and came rapidly toward us.
We watched it come forward in silence, and as it drew nearer, I saw that the men who filled the boat were the wild Indians, like the savage Manteo, whom I had seen in London—and yet not like him. Like him in the bronze color of their skin, in their black, glittering eyes, and long, coarse hair; yet not like him, for they wanted the rugged strength of his face, wanted the martial pose of his bearing and the freedom of his glance.
They were not clad in skins, as had been Manteo, but wore jerkins of some cotton material, their legs and arms bare. Upon their feet were fastened light sandals. Evidently, by their countenances and deportment, they did not belong to the warlike tribes which roamed the virgin forests of Virginia, but were a gentler type of that race.
In a few minutes their light boat touched the ship, and one, who seemed to be the leader, ran forward to where DeNortier stood, and dropping on one knee, spoke some words in a soft tongue which I did not understand.
The Count answered him in the same language, and turning to me, told me that I might go ashore.
"One thing, Count," I said, detaining him as he turned to leave, "when am I to recover my sword? I am strangely ill at ease without the tapping of the blade against my knee, and care not to go among yonder barbarians without a weapon."
He looked at me in some surprise. "Thy sword? Of what use is a sword to a captive? Swords are for the free. As for yon Indians, thou couldst drive them before thee with a lash. But thou shalt have thy sword upon one condition. Give me thy word of honor as a gentleman that thou wilt not attempt to escape while upon this island, and thou shalt be free to come and go as thou dost please."
I pondered a moment. Escape was not possible, even should I break forth from my prison, for the boundless ocean stretched between me and land. So he should have my word of honor for the present; should a favorable opportunity for escape present itself, I could retract my word.
"Thou shalt have my word of honor for the present," I said. "Should I see proper to change my mind, thou shalt be informed."
A sardonic smile was upon his face. "Dost thou think that I am a child, to bring thee here, and then let thee escape? Suit thy own fancy; when thou seest fit to retract thy promise, I shall secure thee well. As for thy sword—Francis! come hither."
The priest, who had hovered near during this brief conversation, drew closer to us.
"Go into my cabin, and bring my gold-hilted Toledo blade," DeNortier commanded.
The rogue turned, and walked toward the cabin. In a few minutes he returned, bringing with him a splendid gold-hilted sword.
The Count took it from him, and drawing the long, bright blade from its sheath, turned to me with a bow.
"Allow me to present thee with this sword in lieu of thine own, which was unfortunately lost the night thou wert brought on board. It is of the finest steel, and, I am sure, could be in the hands of no more gallant gentleman."
I bowed in reply, as I took the sword from him.
"I thank thee," I said, "and hope that it will not be dishonored in my hands."
"I am sure it will not," he answered. "But it is time that we were on shore," and he walked forward to where the canoe lay. Together we descended the ladder and stepped into the boat.
The natives bent their muscles to the task; the paddles flew, and the canoe passed rapidly through the water to a spot which seemed suited for landing, and where a little throng of the Indians, both men and women, together with a few of the pirates, awaited us.
The canoe grated upon the beach, and treading our way through the crowd of Indians, who stood with bent heads as we passed by, we took a well-beaten path which led through the trees, and after about fifteen minutes' brisk walking turned a corner and passed into a broad, level savannah, carpeted with long luxuriant grass.
A long, low building stretched to the left, rough and unpainted; while to the right there arose a splendid mansion, many-windowed, with broad, white pillars—stately and magnificent it stood, looking like a pearl among swine.
The Count noticed the surprise depicted upon my face.
"Be not dismayed," he said. "It is but my poor home; for though shut off in some sense from the world, I yet manage to enjoy some of the good things of the flesh. The world has contributed to my comfort and the furnishings of yonder house. Italy has given us of her sculpture and painting; England, our furniture and tapestry; Spain, our wine and goblets; from Venice have come our carpets and tableware; the Netherlands have given us linen and clothing; from Portugal have come our gold and silverware. I have managed to make my brief stays here not unpleasant. Yonder is the barrack for the men," he said, pointing to the rough, unfinished building, which stood to the left.
As we came nearer to the mansion, one of the Indians, detaching himself from the group of servants on the steps, ran forward to greet his master. As he reached us, he caught DeNortier's hand and carried it to his lips, crying out a few words in the same musical language which the native who first came aboard the vessel had spoken.
The pirate answered in the same tongue, and turning to me, said:
"Thou seest that I have something human in me after all; these poor dogs worship the very ground that I walk upon."
Resuming our steps, we passed on into the house. When within, I stood amazed at the elegance of its furnishings; the floor carpeted in some soft material into which the feet sank as we walked; the walls covered with elegant tapestry; the chairs and other furniture, massive and splendid; on pedestals stood the choicest statuary of the masters of Italy; from the walls there hung paintings, costly and exquisite; and the perfume of sweet-scented flowers filled the rooms. Wealth and culture seemed to reign supreme.
This might be the palace of some noble in far-off England or Spain, a man of wealth and refinement, but not the home of a reckless, blood-thirsty pirate, devoid of conscience or soul, his head resting insecurely upon his shoulders—for so unmerciful and terrible had been the cruelty of DeNortier that, if captured by any civilized nation, his neck would pay the penalty of his crimes. No wonder I was amazed.
The Count had thrown himself upon a velvet couch, which stood near the center of the great room into which he had led me. Stretching out his hand he touched a little silver gong, which stood upon a pedestal near his elbow. A soft-footed attendant stood noiselessly in the doorway. A word in that same unknown language, and the servant disappeared.
A moment later he reappeared, a bottle and two goblets in his hand. Drawing up a small table, he pushed another soft couch opposite me as I stood gazing around the room, and silently passed out of the apartment.
"Be seated, sir," the Count said. "Drink one glass with me. This wine," he continued, filling a golden goblet and holding it up to the light, "was intended for his Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain. I took it from a galleon near the coast of Cuba, a year ago, after a bitter fight. Little thinks his Majesty that to-day we drink it." And he poured a glass for himself, his goblet matching mine.
"Come, Sir Thomas, let us lay aside all enmity for a few brief moments, and drink one glass together. I give thee a toast which thou canst not refuse," he cried, rising to his feet, and holding out the glass at arm's length—"Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England!"
"Her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England"
"The Queen!" I rejoined, rising. "May her glory never wane or fade!"
"Amen to that," the pirate said, and we both sank back upon our couches.
"Where, pray, didst thou find these rich treasures which adorn thy mansion? If all be of the same quality as the wine we have just drank, thou art well named King of Eldorado."
He glanced around the room before replying, and then answered, speaking slowly and clearly:
"Some of these things I took from vessels upon the seas; some I obtained when I raided the South American coasts, the spoils of monasteries and cathedrals; some I bought in Europe and sent in merchant vessels, which I met as I did the 'Betsy' and transferred to my own ship. It has been the work of several years, but it is well worth the price. Some day, when I tire of war and bloodshed, I shall come back here, and pass the remainder of my life in this lovely spot, with the song of the bird and the odor of the rose. Allow me to fill thy glass." And he poured me out another goblet, and refilled his own.
"And now as we talk," I said, "what of myself? Of what advantage am I to thee? Why not release me and let me go back to England?"
"Release thee? No; my dear sir, not yet. Did I not give up a Spanish maiden, a jewel of the West, to have the pleasure of thy company? Wouldst thou deprive me of it so soon, and bought with such a price? Cruel! Cruel!" and he laughed again.
"But of what advantage am I here to thee? I am not gold; thou canst not melt me into shining coin."
"No," the pirate answered, looking at me narrowly, "I cannot melt thee—but there are other things. I offered thee a place beneath me, to be my right-hand man——"
"Which I refused," I interrupted. "Dost thou take me for a child, one day to refuse an offer, the next to accept it? I credited thee with more wisdom."
A dark look had spread over the sea rover's face, accentuating the thin lips and dark overhanging brows. His eyes glittered; he reminded me of a snake as it rears back to strike its victim.
He spoke thickly: "Thou canst not say that I have not done my best to save thee from thy own folly. Join me, thou art safe; refuse me——" and he shrugged his shoulders. "Thou hast powerful enemies, wouldst thou refuse an ally?"
He had drank several glasses to my one. Twice, during our conversation, had the soft-footed native replaced with full bottles the empty ones upon the table, as DeNortier finished them.
I waited until the Indian disappeared before I spoke.
What meant the pirate, when he said powerful enemies? Might not this explain my abduction and detention in this place? I would see whether he would not say more, under the generous influence of the wine.
"Is that so?" I answered. "I know not what thou meanest by powerful enemies; such a thing as that might change my resolution."
But he would not be drawn out. Evidently alarmed by what he had said, he arose unsteadily from the couch.
"Think on what I have said," he replied, as he turned toward the door; "perhaps thou mayest yet come with me." And turning a deaf ear to all my endeavors to detain him, he walked out of the door, bidding me remain where I was.
I still reclined on the couch after DeNortier had passed out of the room. I was tired, my limbs ached, and the wine had produced a pleasant torpor which sapped my energy.
What meant the pirate when he said that I had powerful enemies? Could it be that my father or Richard had taken this method to get me out of the way? Not my father, certainly; he hated me, it is true, but he was too much of the aristocrat to stoop to such work as this. He had cast me off forever, but what motive could he have for condemning me to the life of an exile? No; whoever it was behind the scene, it could not be my father.
Richard, then? It was more like him, for he had always been wont to do his dirty work under cover of darkness, and was none too good for such a trick. But where was the motive? He was the eldest son; the estate and title would fall to him at my father's death; he stood near my father's heart, while the old lord despised me. Why should he wish to do this deed, which might come to light and ruin him? No, I did not think it was Richard. He would have put a dagger in my back, and so been rid of me, once and forever. He would never have had me kidnaped and carried out of England.
There only remained the Viscount James Henry Hampden. It might be that his was the master hand that worked the wires; but I could not believe he would do such a deed. He might wish to get so dangerous a rival out of the way, but why in such a manner as this? He was a soldier; would it not be more likely that he would have picked a quarrel with me, and fought it out as a gentleman? But there came to my mind the threat he had made, that Margaret should be his in spite of Heaven and Hell.
Rumor had it that he had done strange deeds in the Low Country—things that would not bear the light of day. Tales were told of a house in which some Spanish prisoners were confined, which was burned by his command, cooking them alive in its ruins.
Yes, it might be his work. At the thought I ground my teeth together, and my hand sought the hilt of my sword. There was no one else I could think of who had any motive for keeping me out of England. I would keep my eyes open, and perhaps the plot would thicken; in the meantime I would watch and wait.
Woe to whomsoever had done this deed; for whoever it was, I would never rest until I had punished him. The world was too small to hold both of us; one must pass out should we meet face to face. With these thoughts, I caught up my hat, and walked out upon the broad veranda.
Without, dusk was just beginning to fall. The men were struggling up from the vessel bringing their booty, the spoils of the ships they had rifled, and their rude songs floated up to me. The natives, men, women, and children, were running to and fro, their arms loaded with small articles.
A little apart from the men stood a small group, composed of DeNortier, Herrick, Francis, and one of the Indians. Even as I looked, they separated—the Count and the Indian going toward the barrack, Herrick going down the path toward the landing place, and the priest coming toward me.
As he drew nearer I could see his fat, evil face, with its watery eyes, looking like some bloated monster of the deep. He called to me as he drew closer, the habitual leer upon his face:
"How does my lord stand the fatigue of his travel? I trust that he has not been greatly inconvenienced by our rude accommodations."
I answered calmly, having my own reasons for not angering the man; perhaps he knew something of the plan to detain me here, and who stood behind it.
"Not greatly fatigued," I said, "and yet tired. Come inside and have a glass of the wondrous wine of the Count."
The pale eye lit up, his tongue protruded from his lips, as I have seen a dog's at the sight of a bone, and he glanced hastily around him. Only a few men were in sight, busy at work around the barrack.
Coming nearer he spoke in a low voice: "I will take one glass with thee, noble sir; only one glass, to celebrate thy safe arrival."
"Come into the house, then," I said. Retracing my steps to the room which I had just left, I threw myself upon one of the divans, motioning him to take the one opposite.
He did so, at the same time catching up the bottle of wine from the table and looking at the seal. A smile broke over his face, as he saw the rich amber fluid.
"The wine of the King of Spain!" he cried. "How camest thou by this?"
"The Count opened it," I answered. "Drink!" And taking the bottle from his unwilling hands, I poured out a brimming glass.
Catching it up, he put it to his lips; then held out the empty glass to me.
"Wine!" he cried, "that warms the cockles of the heart as old age creeps on; that turns life's cheerless existence into gold. Wine, the curse of youth; the friend of middle life; the staff of old age—the great alchemist that turns the dull, gray hours into sunshine. Ah, I drink to him who first discovered wine!" And he drained the second goblet, though somewhat slower than the first, as if to taste each drop of the precious fluid.
Upon finishing this glass, a thought seemed to strike him, and he held up the golden goblet to the light; for while we sat, the same noiseless servant lit the candles that stood in the golden candelabras which hung upon the walls, and the great room was bathed in a flood of light.
"Ah! this goblet," the priest resumed, "well do I remember it; taken by the impious son of Holy Church from the Cathedral at Cartagena. I implored, but my anguish availed nothing." And the great tears rolled down the fat cheeks of the rascal, whose face was fast settling into the cunning of intoxication.
The two great goblets he had drunk in rapid succession—and I surmised that he had been celebrating before now the safe return of the vessel—had almost overcome him. Although his head was like a stone, from constant, excessive drink, yet even a stone can be worn away by continual dripping.
His eye rested on my goblet which I had not filled, for I needed a clear head to pump the rascal. Suspicion struggled for a moment upon his face.
"Why dost thou not drink?" he said. "It is nectar for gods and men."
"Thou forgettest," I replied, "that I have already drunk with DeNortier, and my head will stand no more at present."
Suspicion died out of his eyes, and in its place there appeared a look of gentle merriment.
"Ah! you boys! You boys!" he chuckled. "Wait until thou hast reached my years; then thy head will be stronger; thou wilt learn wisdom." Solemnly shaking his head, he poured another brimming goblet and slowly drank it down.
"Such trinkets as these," he went on, still holding the massive goblet in his hand, "should belong to the faithful servants of Mother Church, to reward them for their constant prayer and vigil," and he fetched a great sigh, that caused the very candles on the wall to flare. "See the carving upon the sides of the goblet—a miter and robe. Who knows that I may not wear the miter?" His face brightened at the thought, and he looked at me inquiringly, a drunken smile upon his face.
"A miter would surely become so pious a man," I said, "who spends his days and nights in vigil and fastings."
His head had fallen to one side; his red cheeks shone in the candlelight; the bald pate; the hair white around the edges; his cassock ruffled and disheveled—surely he was a sight to make the gods weep.
I judged that the moment was ripe to broach the subject. I looked cautiously around—not a soul was in sight but the drunken priest. I leaned forward.
"Why not?" I said. "Why not? My uncle, thou knowest, is an Archbishop, a few words spoken in his ear by one whom he loves, and presto—Francis, Bishop of the Holy Catholic Church!"
I leaned back and watched the effect of this announcement upon him. A look of avarice replaced that of drunken wisdom, and bending, he placed his head upon his hands, looking up at me. His eyes swam with the liquor he had drunk. I saw plainly that he was hesitating. He sat thus for a moment; then looking at me broke the silence:
"Sayest thou so? Would I had known this before; rather had I burnt my right hand to the stump, than to have helped to bring thee here," and he broke into sobs, the tears running between his fingers and mingling with the little puddle of wine upon the table. "My last chance gone," he gurgled, "gone!—gone!"
"No," I continued, still watching narrowly his face, "thou hast only to say one word, and the place is thine."
"What?" he cried, looking up, a smile swiftly replacing the tears. "But no; promises are easy to make, hard to keep. How do I know that thou canst fulfill that which thou dost now promise?"
I hesitated; the time had come for me to play my last card. Months before, I had found one night on the streets of London a ring, large, peculiar, strange, with a miter carved upon the soft gold. I had carried it to a jeweler, thinking that I might possibly find the owner. He, being a Catholic, and high in the church councils, had told me that it was a ring of state of some bishop; whose he did not know. I had kept the ring, not finding the owner, and now drew it from my finger, where I had worn it, holding it out to Father Francis.
He took it in his fingers, and gazed at it. A look of amazement came over his face, and he looked up, the ring still in his hand.
"What is it that thou wouldst ask? I will answer it," he said, bending nearer to me, our heads almost meeting over the table, his flushed face touching mine.
"Who is it that is at the bottom of this plan to kidnap and detain me here?" I asked.
He would have answered—a moment of hesitation—he opened his mouth, and I bent forward eagerly to catch the answer.
Suddenly a look of horror came over his face; he was gazing up, the expression upon his countenance such as I have seen in the eyes of a bird, charmed by the baleful gaze of a snake.
The voice of DeNortier at my elbow broke the silence. "My dear sir, I object to thy asking such pointed questions," he said.
I arose to my feet, and turned around. DeNortier, sober now, stood near me, a look of almost devilish anger upon his face. Near him stood the grim Herrick, sword in hand. They had entered the room just in time to scatter my plans to the four winds—just at the moment when victory was in sight.
"And so thou didst think to wring my plans from my servants," the pirate continued, his face white with rage. "Thou didst try all thy art upon me, and I, unsuspecting, almost fell a victim. Then when thou failed on me, thou attempted to pick from yonder drunken sot the secret of thy detention. This is the work of a gentleman."
"And so is that of a jailer," I replied, angered at the gibe. "It is the work of a gentleman to kidnap a man, struck senseless in the street by one of thy ruffians, and detain him here against his will. I count it no sin to fight the devil with fire," and I drew my sword, and stood on guard.
He drew his sword also, and for a moment I thought that he would cross with me, but he hesitated—then sheathed it.
"Another time, sir," he said. "Believe me, it is only for important reasons, which I cannot explain, that I do not satisfy thee now. Ah!" he said, as I laughed aloud in scorn, "thou dost laugh. It is an old saying and a true one, that 'He laughs best who laughs last.' Have no fears, I will satisfy thee, but the time is not yet ripe. Herrick, take yon drunken sot out of here."
The sailor strode to the door and called. At the sound two natives entered. He motioned to the priest, who had fallen asleep upon the table, and whose stentorian snores shook the very goblets. Picking him up between them, they carried him out of the door.
The Count stood looking at me after the priest had been removed from the room; the anger had died out of his face, and a look of grim humor had replaced it. Finally he spoke:
"It was a fortunate thing for thee, Sir Thomas, that I came in when I did; a little more, and thy head would have rested on an uneasy pillow."
But I was tired; tired of the enigmas and puzzles; tired of wearying my brain with unfruitful guessing. I cared not whether he laughed or frowned, so I merely inquired whether my room was ready, and made known my wish to retire.
"Certainly," he answered, and touching the silver gong again, he spoke to the native. Then turning to me he said, "José will show thee thy room. Good-night, and pleasant dreams," and with a bow he threw himself upon the great couch.
"Thanks," I answered.
Following the Indian, I was shown up a noble stairway, through the splendid hall into a large room, where my guide left me, after lighting the candle in a great silver stick, the spoil of some cathedral, I doubted not.
As he went out, I heard the key turn in the lock, and I was left alone. I glanced around the room. It was furnished like the one downstairs; was smaller certainly, and had a bed instead of the luxurious couch.
I walked over to the window, through which beamed the splendid tropic moon, and drawing aside the curtain, I saw that the window, the only one in the room, had an iron grating over it. I was fastened in securely, no doubt of that.