Prince Rupert, the Buccaneer

by Charles John Cutcliffe Wright Hyne

But at last this wretch was announced to be dead, and indeed hung very loosely in his chains in advertisement of his decease, and the supreme moment arrived. The torchbearers advanced with flame that flickered pale and dizzily under the sunlight, and the poor secretary, who intended to devote these last moments to commending her soul to the Most High, could think of nothing but that disastrous mermaiden who had caused all this anguish and disaster. But Prince Rupert was ruffled neither in words nor confession. "Into Thy hands, O Lord God," he said, "I commend my spirit, with a full acknowledgment of my sins, which be many, and a humble reminder that I have at all times endeavoured to do my duty. O Lord receive my spirit into Thine own place, and punish bitterly these Spaniards that are Thine enemies. Amen."—With which prayer his devotions ended, and he returned again to the grave discussion of those improvements in mezzotint. The secretary does not see that a better proof can be given of this glorious man's greatness of mind. What other creature on earth could bring his attention to such talk when so horrid a death immediately threatened him?

The torchmen were actually putting their flames against the tar with which part of these pyres is daubed, when the interruption came which saved the prisoners' lives for the time being. A horseman clattered into the plaza on a half-foundered stallion, crying that the auto da fé should stop. The black-avised Inquisitor in a passion leaped to his feet and shouted that what was ordered should be gone through with. But the torchmen, halting between two authorities, plainly dawdled with their work, and the newcomer reined in his staggering horse and threw up an hand for silence.

"Hear me," he cried, "and then say if I was wrong in interrupting. A parcel of buccaneers under Wick and Watkin (whose accursed names you well know) are coming against this city directly. They took me prisoner and set me free to come here and deliver to you their impudent will. They ask no ransom, being confident of their own power of taking what they want, but they hear that you have some of their number as prisoners, and through me they give fair warning that if harm comes to them, they on their part will burn every prisoner of the Spaniards that they take, regardless of sex or age. And," concluded the messenger simply, "they will do it. They are men that will stick at nothing, once they have passed their word."

A riot of voices filled the plaza. It seemed there were two parties in this city. The Inquisitors were determined not to be robbed of their prey, and these were backed up by the fanatics amongst the populace, and by those reckless, cruel few who did not wish to be baulked of a spectacle. And ranged against these were the women and the more responsible citizens, who feared the buccaneers horribly, distrusted the defences, and dreaded that the threatened burning was very near to their own greasy skins as a retaliation. Weapons were drawn, and it seemed as though there would be civil war.

But once more the man on the horse directed the doings of his fellow-citizens. Again he threw up his hands frantically beckoning, and again with some trouble he obtained a hearing. "The captain of the port bid me say," he shouted, "that if he could get his galleys manned, he would go out and tackle these buccaneers forthwith. But at present disease has been busy on the row-bank, and he has few slaves to man the oars. It seems to me, Señores, that you have some recruits yonder chained up against those stakes? Why waste them? And if they are killed by their friends in the ordinary course of action, why the fault lies outside this city, and we get the ordinary treatment of war, whatever betides."

Again the riot of words roared through the plaza. But it was clear that the balance of the sides was altered. The proposal of the man on the horse carried weight; the Inquisitors and their fanatics were hopelessly outnumbered and outvoted; and presently the torchmen stamped out the flames, and men came up, and set about unlinking the chains which held the prisoners to the stakes.

Oh God! what a revulsion that respite caused to one! The secretary was well-nigh fainting with gratitude when they unchained her. Life, dear life still was left. Only a slavery in the galleys, lay before them to be endured, only the lash, and the baking sun, and the heart-breaking oar for a sentence after all! It seemed in comparison to those fearful flames which had been so near, to be the gift of some delicious dream.

But Prince Rupert viewed the change in a different light. He saw only the dreadful indignities to which he was condemned, and his pride gave him more torture than the flames could have offered if he had been scorched and burnt to cinders at that horrid stake. His face blackened with rage and his hands clenched and gripped convulsively. "Almost," he muttered, "I am beginning to give credence to your mermaiden, Master Laughan. The mere fortune of war, unassisted, could scarce have brought me as low as this. The galleys for me! And sent there by Spaniards!"

The secretary's heart ached with a new pain as she heard him. "God help the man," thought she, "that's chained to Rupert Palatine!"