‘The squall,’ he said, ‘must have put an end to the fight, and if the Spaniards be attacking our huts from their ships, which is most likely, they may well have been either driven ashore upon the bluff, or blown out to sea.’

So we paddled cautiously along the edge of the mangroves, listening for any sound of the renewal of the combat, but heard none. It was obvious that, one way or another, the matter was decided—either that our comrades had been overpowered, or that the Spaniards had been forced by the weather to discontinue the attack. At length, we approached a point in the shore where the character of the bank changed—the ground heaving itself boldly above the high-water mark, and the mangroves ceasing to grow; a little further on, a bluff of limestone rock, overgrown with brush and creeping trees, and its base green with tangled and slippery sea-weeds, stretched out into the water, and from the top of this we knew our settlement was visible. Having, therefore, made fast the canoe in a suitable place, we clambered through the dripping grass and leaves to the summit, and there saw a piteous sight. The rock being high, we overlooked several small capes and bays which stretched between us and our late habitation, and saw plainly the green bank upon which our huts stood, and the pretty clear bay, with its crescent of white sand and shingle beneath. In this bay—with her top-gallant-masts struck, and top-masts and yards lowered—there lay a great Spanish ship, carrying not less than thirty guns, with immensely high forecastle and poop. Moored somewhat nearer the beach was the smaller Spanish ship which had already attacked us, riding also very snugly with her top hamper lowered; and astern of them, and ashore upon the rocky bluff which formed the seaward horn of our bay, was a small sloop, which, as we conjectured, had been driven from her moorings by the force of the tempest, and now lay bodily upon the rocks, the sea beating and breaking over her. But the piteous sight was our huts and storehouses—some lay in ruins on the ground, torn and shattered by cannon-balls, others had been set on fire, but the rain having so plenteously descended, had extinguished the flames, which, however, still smouldered in the blackened ashes and amid the charred timber, sending up thin volumes of bluish-grey smoke. All over the beach were scattered the bales and casks in which we had been used to store the provisions we made; and the principal of these the Spanish robbers were removing into the great ship; but, saddest sight of all, round the burning huts, and upon the shingle down to the water’s edge, were strewn the corpses of our late comrades, they having evidently sold their lives dear, for many Spanish soldiers and seamen were stretched out starkly among them.

We long remained crouched amid the brushwood, regarding this sad spectacle as though fascinated by its horrors. Who had escaped? we thought; and, if any, where, and how? Not a man in our company but who was brave as the steel he wielded; but what could a handful of undisciplined hunters and sailors do against the broadsides of two Spanish men-of-war?

Nicky and I looked at each other mournfully—unarmed, and fainting with hunger and thirst, what were we to do. Under the torments of the latter infliction, however, we found that we need not long suffer. In the hollow’s of the rocks, and the reservoirs of the large green leaves of divers plants, the heavy rain had left abundance of water, of which we drank and were refreshed. After this, we sat down in a sheltered nook to hold a council of war. The Spaniards were still busy upon the beach, and occasionally straggling into the woods. Boats were continually passing from the ships to our shingle wharf, and we saw preparations being made to warp the sloop off the rocks, from which we concluded that she had not been, much damaged. Nicky and I had hardly begun to consult upon our condition, when we suddenly heard the voices of men in a suppressed tone, not far from us in the thick underwood. As the speakers might be Spanish, we ceased to talk, and lay close, burying our persons, as it were, in the long coarse grass, and listening with all our ears. The distant talking continued, but in what tongue we could not tell, for the wind still blew in gusts, and ever and anon carried away the sound. At length, just as we were despairing of making out who our neighbours were, I felt something wet and cold glide from under my bare leg, and turning sharply round, I saw the grass moving, and the green glistening skin of a snake gliding over my flesh. Involuntarily, and with a great shout, I started up. ‘It is all over,’ said Nicky; ‘we are discovered.’ But in a moment a gruff voice hallooed—

‘Who goes there?’

And we both joyfully cried out in reply, that we were friends and comrades. Immediately there was a great rustling in the boughs, and running up thither we presently found a remnant of our own company, who grasped our hands, and could scarce speak for joy at seeing us. The men who thus joined us were five in number: Ezra Hoskins, an English seaman of Dover, called by us Stout Jem, not only for his size and muscle, which were prodigious, but because of his boldness and fearlessness of heart; then there was another Englishman, from Newcastle, whose real name I know not, because I never heard him called by any appellation but that of Black Diamond; and a Hollander, a sturdy slow-witted fellow, from Helvoetsluys, near the Brill, whom we called Meinheer; the other two persons were the Mosquito Indians, Blue Peter and Jack, skilful strikers of fish and manatee, and very attached, faithful fellows.

You may be sure that we had much to tell each other of our adventures. First, Nicky narrated our mischance in the Mangrove Creek, from the devil-like snares of the crafty and cowardly Spaniards. And then, Stout Jem told how, in the evening of the previous day, the Indians being fishing towards the open sea, saw the sloop working up with the last of the sea-breeze, but considered her to be a friend, from one of the windward islands, come to load; and how the Buccaneers, being thus thrown off their guard, had hoisted lights upon the headland, to guide her after it fell dark. It had certainly surprised them to see answering lights, as it appeared, further up the lagoon, and they had set a good watch, and were wakeful in consequence, not well knowing what to expect. As the night wore on, and our canoe did not make its appearance, their anxiety increased, and towards morning a Mosquito man, who had been hunting manatee in the sedgy banks of the savannahs, came into the settlement, and reported that he had heard the oars of boats pulling in the Mangrove Channels, and that he had seen lights glimmering amid the night-fog. It was now evident that there was something in the wind, but they never reckoned on being attacked by such a force as came against them. Besides, the strangers might be all French from Tortugas, or St. Christopher’s, or Dutch from Curaçoa, and might not exactly know how the old settlers would relish an intrusion in their hunting-grounds. It was not until almost day, that our comrades saw a great ship coming into the bay, being towed against the land-wind or terral, which was then waxing faint, by her boats. A pirogue went off to her, but not returning, those on shore concluded that the arrival was friendly, and that their comrades had stayed on board to carouse, and they were only undeceived upon the rising of the sun, when they saw two Spanish men-of-war, besides the sloop, lying in the bay, and were saluted with hot salvos of artillery. Seeing their mistake, the Buccaneers, following their usual tactics, leaped into their canoes and tried to board. But the Spaniards hove great stones and cold shot into the boats, keeping up at the same time a sharp discharge of musketry, so that the canoes being broken and swamped, those who were not maimed or killed of their crews, were fain to swim to land, where they were again attacked by a body of Spaniards, who, with loud shouts, issued from the woods, proving how skilfully the whole position had been invested. The Buccaneers, being thus sorely discomfited, retreated into the cover of the brushwood and trees, and maintained a distant fight, aiming chiefly at the Spaniards who showed themselves on board the ships, and those who emerged from the seaward-side of the huts. This lasted nearly all the morning, when the weather becoming threatening, the Spaniards, who were until then held as it were in check, determined to make a great effort, and calling to their men ashore to take care of themselves, opened a great fire upon the huts, the balls crashing through and through them, and, at the same time, flinging fire-balls and other combustibles, so that presently one-half of the settlement was in flames, and the other demolished. Then the Dons landed in great force, and were met by the remnant of our comrades, who fought desperately. But the Spaniards having overwhelming numbers, finally routed them, and drove them by small parties into the woods. It was at the conclusion of this affray that the storm came on, and since its abatement our comrades had been roving along the shore, seeking any other survivors of the fight, but hitherto finding none.

CHAPTER VI.
HOW THE DEADLY FEVER OF THE COAST FASTENS ON ME.

Such was the history of the treacherous Spanish attack which destroyed the settlement of the Marmousette. Our first care was to learn how the party we had met in with were armed, and great was our delight to find that the Indians carried two guns apiece, nearly all the muskets in the village having been brought into the woods. Besides there was abundance of ammunition. After a short consultation, it was determined to take the canoe, and although our number would somewhat overload her, to cross to the other side of the bay, where we had more security against being molested. Having therefore carefully looked to our pieces, we clambered down the bank, and standing by the canoe, unanimously invested Stout Jem with the command of the expedition. As the Indians used the paddles most dexterously, they were set to work to propel us, and with Stout Jem for steersman, we set out. On our way I began to experience a drowsiness, which I had before felt, but immediately checked. Now, however, the sensation, amounting indeed to one of impending stupor, began again to overpower me. My chin fell upon my chest, and I had little snatches of disturbed sleep, in which curious confused ideas, and odd combinations of words and things, seemed to float into my brain, and which, when I started up again, which I would do every minute, fled away like phantoms, so that I could not for my life remember what I had been dreaming of the moment before. All this time I was inwardly urged to speak, I seemed to have nothing to say, but still something forced my tongue and lips to move, and all at once I called out—