Having at length thoroughly ransacked the captain’s cabin, I proceeded to overhaul the rest of the ship, devoting, indeed, practically the whole day to the work; but nothing else was found worthy of mention, except a chest containing a thousand gold Spanish dollars, in what I took to be the purser’s room. And as for the rest of the ship, everywhere forward of the stump of the mainmast, she was so strained and battered as to be nothing better than a basket, the water washing in and out of her as she lay. We removed from the wreck the dollars, the casket of gems, and the few other matters that seemed to be worth taking, and still had daylight enough left to find our way out through the northern channel. Sunset, that night, therefore, found us once more at sea, and heading for Jamaica, I having determined to place the despatches and other documents, found on board the wreck, in the Admiral’s hands without loss of time. The trade-wind was again blowing, and blowing strong, too, so that, by carrying on, night and day, we made the passage in exactly three days, almost to a minute, from the Roccas; and I had the satisfaction of handing the despatches to the Admiral that same night. The jolly old fellow was at dinner when I presented myself, and was entertaining a number of officers, naval and military; but upon my name being announced he at once ordered me to be admitted and directed a knife and fork to be placed on the table for me. He received me with much cordiality, and also introduced me to his guests; but I could see that my presence was deemed an intrusion by most of them, the naval men especially, who were not only jealous of privateersmen, but were also very much inclined to look down upon us as inferior beings to themselves. There were one or two exceptions, however, notably the Honourable Augustus Montague and his first lieutenant, both of the frigate Calypso, then in port; the former a most amiable and genial young officer, with no nonsense at all about him, while his lieutenant, Mr Birdwood, was as fine a fellow in every way as I had ever met. The Admiral thanked me most warmly for the despatches, which he handed over at once to his secretary for translation; and I had the intense satisfaction of learning, before I left the Pen that night, that the documents were deemed of sufficient importance to justify their immediate despatch to England by a frigate. The Admiral was kind enough to invite me to sleep at the Pen; but I excused myself, the fact being that the schooner’s rigging needed overhauling, and her supply of stores and water required replenishing. I therefore slept in Kingston that night; and having arranged, the first thing next morning, for the supply of the stores and water, I went aboard to give orders to send down topmasts and have the rigging lifted. But an interview with Hoard, the man that we had taken off the wreck of the Spanish frigate, suddenly altered all my plans.
The way that it came about was this. I reached the schooner about ten o’clock in the morning, and at once gave my orders to Mr Saunders, who forthwith set all hands to work. I then went below to my cabin to write some letters home, to be forwarded by the frigate that was to take the Spanish despatches; and whilst I was thus engaged a timid, hesitating knock came to the door.
“Come in!” shouted I; and forthwith entered the man Hoard, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Beg pardon, Cap’n Bowen, for interrupting you,” he began; “but there’s a matter that I should like to speak to you about, if I ain’t making too bold.”
“Not at all, Hoard,” I answered. “But is the matter important? Won’t it wait? You see I am very busy just now, but I can give you as long as you like this afternoon.”
“Well, sir,” answered the man, fidgeting uneasily with his cap, “it’s for you to say whether it’s important or not. It’s about a galleon that’s loading at Cartagena for Spain; and, understandin’ that this schooner is a privateer, I thought that maybe you’d like to have a try for her, and if so, sir, I’d advise you—beggin’ pardon for bein’ so bold—not to start so much as a rope-yarn of this vessel’s rigging, or mayhap you’ll be too late for the galleon.”
“By George, man,” exclaimed I, “this is important news indeed! Why in the world did you not speak to me about it before?”
“Well, sir,” he answered, “you see, the way of it is this. Five years ago I belonged to the brig, Mary Rose, of Plymouth. She was a slaver; and in one of our runs across to the Coast she caught fire, and burnt us out of her. We took to the boats, and two days afterwards the boat that I was in, bein’ separated from the others in a strong breeze, was picked up by a Spanish ship called the San Sebastian, and we were taken on to Cartagena. We were a wild set, I can tell you, and perhaps I was the wildest and wickedest of the lot; and we offended the Spaniards because we scoffed and laughed at ’em for plumpin’ down on their marrow-bones and prayin’, in a stiffish gale that we fell in with, instead of goin’ to work to shorten sail, and take care of the ship. Me and my mates did that for ’em while they prayed; but we’d offended ’em mortally, and they never forgave us. So the first thing that they does, when we arrived at Cartagena, was to denounce us as heretics, and we was all clapped into prison. What happened to my mates I never knowed, but I never saw any of ’em again. But as for me, if you’ll believe me, sir, the five years that I’ve been in the hands of the Spaniards I’ve been in hell! They wanted to convert me, so they said; and the way that they went about it, was to make my life a burden to me. They put me to work in chains on the roads; they sent me into the country, away from the coast, to work in their mines; they even tortured me! If you’ll believe me, Cap’n Bowen,” and I saw the poor fellow’s eyes grow wild, and begin to blaze as he spoke of his sufferings, “for four years I never had the chains off my hands and legs, except when I was bein’ tortured!
“But there,” he continued, pulling himself together, “I didn’t come down into this cabin to tell you about my sufferin’s; but I will tell you, sir, that by God’s mercy those same sufferin’s did convert me, not the sort of conversion that the Spaniards wanted to bring about, but the conversion that, I humbly trust, has caused me to see and repent of my former wicked life. Not but what the old Adam is strong in me yet at times, sir, I won’t deny it, and he’s never stronger than when I think of the wrongs and the sufferin’s that I’ve endured at the Spaniards’ hands. And it was just that, and nothin’ else, that’s kept my lips closed all this while about the galleon. We are told, sir, that we must forgive our enemies, and return good for evil; and that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do, ever since I set foot aboard of this schooner. As soon as ever I came to myself, and was able to understand that I’d escaped from my enemies, and was once more safe under the flag of dear old England, the devil comes to me, and says:—
“‘Now’s your time, Isaac, to be revenged upon your enemies, and to pay ’em off for a little of the misery that they’ve been makin’ you suffer all them five years that they had you in their power. You know that they’re goin’ to send away this galleon, hopin’ that by keepin’ well to the south’ard she’ll escape capture. You know, too, that her cargo’s to be a rich one, and that, over and above her cargo she’s to ship an astonishin’ quantity of gold and precious stones, brought down to the coast from Peru; and of course you know that Cap’n Bowen and his lads ’ud lay wait for her, and maybe get her, if you was to tell ’em about her. And if they was to get her, only think what a blow the loss of her ’d be to the Spaniards! Why, it ’ud be so tremendous heavy that it ’ud go a good ways towards payin’ ’em off for all that they’ve made you suffer. It ’ud be a fine bit of revenge, now, wouldn’t it?’