‘You having been absent at the mines in Darien, when, in sadness and sorrow, I returned to the main land in the long-boat of the great galleon, reft of all the treasures which the ship carried, by the hands of plundering heretics, who, for our sins, the saints permit to infest the Indian seas, I was not able personally to let you know the particulars of our misfortune, and indeed I had but small time and less heart to write the story. You are aware that in a few days after reaching Porto Bello, to which place we scudded before the wind, which was boisterous, I found a quick ship sailing unto Spain, and having taken passage in her, we were so favoured as to avoid all pirates, flibustiers, and buccaneers, and sail very prosperously across the Atlantic hither. But as touching the Carthagena galleon, that was indeed a heavy loss, and I have made it my petition to the king that he will cause representations to be sent to their majesties of England and France touching the conduct and bearing of their subjects in our Indian seas. The manner of our capture was very sudden. Two days sail from Carthagena, we beating to windward, a sail was descried an hour before sunset, but which vanished before the dusk closed, so that little or nothing more was thought of the matter. As is my wont, I retired early to rest, the worthy captain of the galleon assuring me that all was well, and a very good look-out kept from all parts of the ship. But truly, our look-out must have been maintained with but sleepy eyes, for as I was dozing, just after having heard midnight chime from the clock in the great cabin, and looking half asleep half awake at the lamp as it swung to and fro, and made strange glimmerings and shadows upon the tapestries, I suddenly heard a tremendous outcry, and the running of feet upon the deck above, and then, Manual, a volley of musketry, and one of those savage ‘hurrahs’ which are the war-cry of the English, followed almost on the instant by a shock which made the great galleon tremble and surge from side to side. At that moment there came flying down the cabin-stairs our friend Collado, of the Hermitage Plantation, his face like unto grey ashes, and exclaiming that we were ruined and undone, for that while the watch on deck slumbered, being incited thereto by the calmness of the weather, a pirate schooner had suddenly laid the galleon on board, and that our good captain had fallen in the very volley I had just heard discharged.
‘But even while he was speaking the uproar on deck was renewed. I heard the grating and rasping as the sides of the two vessels encountered when they rolled, and the fierce outcries and clash of steel, and frequent pistol and carbine shots fired while the pirates were clambering up our lofty sides and leaping upon the deck. They were devils, Manual. No man could resist them. They yelled and fought, and seemed to despise their lives; and accordingly, in a moment, and ere I could even put on my garments, in came the spoilers, rushing down the cabin stairs; a tall and strong old man, naked to the waist, and with a handkerchief twisted round his grey hair, leading them on, sword and pistol in hand. Thus were we constrained to surrender.
‘Nevertheless, Manual, I must do our spoilers this justice: they sought not to harm our persons, and were even (in their way) courteous to us their prisoners. This I say specially of the leader, who was of lofty and somewhat dignified aspect, and whom they called “Captain Jem,” and sometimes “Stout Jem.”’
Here Rumbold made a pause, as if to cough, and glanced slily at me. Oh, how my heart leaped as I listened. Honest, noble Captain Jem! No prisoners but what would have mercy and courtesy at thy hands! Rumbold continued—
‘This old man presently desired to speak with me privately, and, quoth he, “There was one of our crew captured by Spaniards at Carthagena; tell me truly, is he dead or alive?” At this I bethought me that there had been, indeed, an English prisoner examined at the alcaide’s; for that strange man, Don José, had informed me of the fact, and also that the Englishman behaved very boldly when put to his trial; and this I told to the pirate captain, adding, that I understood that he had made his escape into the woods, and, although he had been seen in the streets of Carthagena at night, and hotly pursued, yet that he had given all his followers the slip, and got clear off, whither none knew. At this the old man wrung my hand in a strange fashion, and whispering me, “I loved that young man as though I were his parent,” added, “We make war upon you Spaniards, but we are no thieves; therefore let each man of you take his clothes and his private stock of money, and descend speedily into the boats. The ship and cargo we claim, but not the private goods of passengers and crew.”
‘I give thee all these particulars, good Manual, because thou art deeply interested in all which befalls me, and so thou wilt not find them tedious. And so, presently, with sorrowful hearts we descended into our boats, and saw the galleon and the schooner trim their course for Jamaica. So far touching our disaster; now to another matter.’
‘And the matter which concerns us most, shipmates,’ said Jerry. ‘Go on, Mr. Rumbold.’
I give the latter part of the letter with all its details although the information involved in it came at last to nothing. Nevertheless, I think it right to recount at length the document which caused us to change our plans, and indirectly led to the loss of the ship. The letter then ran somewhat as follows.—
‘And now, good Manual, our friend and correspondent, Juan Gramada, of this town, designing speedily to send forth a goodly ship, bound to Truxillo, and laden with wines, cloths, laces, and divers sorts of goods proper for the Indian markets, I have advised him that he should cause her to pause in her course at a certain barren cluster of islets to windward of the Dutch possession of Curaçoa, and considerably to the east of the usual cruising places of the pirates, who, as I learn, do not often sail to windward of the Gulf of Venezuela. These islets are called Isles des Aves, or Bird Islets. I have landed upon them; they are not inhabited, save by countless flocks of sea birds, and they are full of good harbours and creeks, where a ship may commodiously ride at anchor. My advice, then, to Juan Gramada, and he hath taken it, was to let his ship pause at these islands, her captain having been there once before; and that, in the mean time, you getting this letter, as I hope you will, about a week or a fortnight after the ship sails from Spain, do dispatch an agent in whom you can put trust in a good piragua, or small sailing sloop, to the Isles des Aves, bearing intelligence as to whether the seas westward be pretty clear, so as to make the run across the Gulf of Darien as safe as possible. In case of your agent bringing unfavourable or doubtful tidings, then the captain of Gramada’s ship has instructions to direct the course of the vessel to any other port in New Spain, or to the Havannah, as you may think fit, where the wares can be disposed of to advantage.’
These were the chief points of the letter, the remainder being devoted to private matters not of interest to any of us. But I started again when I heard the name of the writer pronounced. It was Pedro Davosa.