With Drake on the Spanish Main

by Herbert Strang

Letting a few days pass, Dennis went again one morning with the sailor to the scene of the tree-felling. The huge trunk had already begun to take shape as a canoe at least twenty-five feet long. The men were diligently working at it, some with axes, others with fire. Its interior had been partly hollowed out, the wood and pith burnt away, and the charred sides scraped with the hatchets. It was clear that within a few days the tree would become a vessel which, whether navigable or not, would certainly float.

"'Tis a pretty piece of work," said Dennis to Turnpenny. "Ask them whereto they design it."

Turnpenny spoke a few words in Spanish. The answer was surprising. One of the maroons, a man whom the others seemed to have elected as their leader, threw down his hatchet and fell on his knees. Then, in a strange jargon which the sailor had much ado to understand, he gave voice to the sentiments and aspirations of himself and his comrades. They were sick of solitude. They had homes upon the mainland; and yearned to see again their relatives and comrades, to return to their settlement, to share in its life, to seek opportunities of revenging themselves on their oppressors. And so they were making this canoe, in which they would sail over the sea. They were not ungrateful for the kindnesses showered upon them by the white men; indeed, to show their gratitude, they would take them with them, having first killed the two prisoners. Their spokesman on his knees besought the white men to yield to their desire, and come with them. They would supply all their needs, and follow them with all obedience, if they would lead them against the Spaniards.

"Tell him to get up," said Dennis. "This is a matter we must think upon."

Dennis and Turnpenny held by and by a serious consultation. They felt that they were in a somewhat awkward predicament. The maroons' desire to regain their friends was natural and reasonable, but their departure would deprive the white men of valuable allies. And what of the two prisoners? Turnpenny would not have hesitated to kill them, but Dennis shrank from that course. They might allow the maroons to carry them off; but then the Spaniards would either be butchered as soon as the canoe was out of reach, or they would probably be held as hostages and exchanged for natives held captive by the Spaniards on the mainland. In that case they would certainly report the presence of two white men on the island and the assault upon the lumber boat; a search party would be the result, and Dennis and his companion would be slaughtered or carried away into slavery. On the other hand, if the maroons were allowed to depart, leaving the prisoners on the island, the burden of keeping watch over them would prove a constant source of anxiety.

"The canoe is all but finished," said Dennis. "We must let them finish it. To forbid them, poor knaves, would be cruel."

"And vain, to boot," said Turnpenny, "for if we took their axes from them, they would use bits of sharp rock. The Indians have hollowed out such canows with instruments of flint from the beginning of the world."

"We must let them go, then. For ourselves, I see not at present our course; but we can provide against the worst hap by conveying our stores, secretly and by night, to Skeleton Cave; 'tis a good hiding-place, not like to be easily discovered, and we know not what necessity may drive us to make it our habitation."

The transfer of the stores occupied two nights. Mirandola accompanied the two men as they went to and fro between the sheds and the cave, clinging so closely to them that it seemed as if he had some intuition of changes to come.

"By my soul," said Turnpenny with a laugh, "he be as faithful as a dog."