Tom rejoined Archy Gordon and they followed the colonel, who was marched out with Captain Crowhurst as his companion. They were joined by several priests with crucifixes in their hands, who, addressing the prisoners as they walked alongside them, offered to afford them the consolations of their religion.
“We want none of their mummery,” exclaimed Captain Crowhurst, in a tone of indignant contempt. “Do tell the fellows, colonel, to let us alone.”
The colonel, instead of interpreting this speech, mildly addressed the priests, and assured them that he and his companions did not require their services, as they differed in creed. The friars now came to Tom and Archy, but soon finding that they did not understand a word they said they fell back to those in the rear. The master of the sloop and the mates spoke much in the same tone as Captain Crowhurst had done, and the priests observing that they were heretics devoted their attention to their own countrymen. Two of the priests, more persevering than the rest, returned again to the colonel; he motioned them aside with the same courteousness as before. Still they addressed him.
“My friends,” he said at length, “I give you full credit for the honesty of your intentions, but as I have lived so I hope to die, protesting against the false system and erroneous doctrines in which you appear to believe. I have no faith in them, and, therefore, you only interrupt a person who would ask strength from One in whose presence he is about shortly to appear, that he may go through the severe trial he is called upon to endure.”
The calm and dignified manner of the brave colonel rebuked the officious priests, and they returned without venturing to utter any of the contemptuous remarks which they had bestowed on his less polished fellow-sufferers.
Crowds collected in the streets to see the mournful procession pass: most of the Englishmen walked boldly on, with heads erect and undismayed countenances; many of them, indeed, scarcely believed that the government would venture to put them to death; the natives, on the contrary, fully aware of the sanguinary disposition of their countrymen, expected no mercy, but marched on with trembling knees and downcast countenances, expecting the fate which awaited them. They had been captured in open rebellion, attempting to overthrow the government, and were conscious how they themselves would have treated their enemies had they exchanged places.
The crowd gathered rapidly, eager to indulge themselves of the spectacle which was about to take place. Suddenly there came a booming sound of a gun across the harbour followed by the thunder of several others, one at short intervals much louder than the rest. The colonel and Captain Crowhurst turned their heads.
“Those guns come from vessels in action,” said Tom; “perhaps one is an English ship; if so she is sure to give the Dons a drubbing.”
Some of the crowd hastened to the harbour to see what had taken place. The soldiers advanced with their prisoners at a more rapid rate than before; they quickly reached an open place just outside the town. Here they stopped, and presently several officers came on the field. The prisoners were marched a short distance to the front of the troops, who extended their line on either side of them. An officer of rank with his staff now rode up. Colonel O’Regan on seeing him stepped forward.
“General Carmona,” he said, “I have been your enemy, and have no hope of mercy at our hands. I, therefore, do not ask it for myself; I speak for these men, who if they have broken your laws did so in ignorance; still more earnestly do I entreat you not to injure these two young English officers, who, as I informed your commodore, are entirely guiltless. They were saved at sea from a wreck by the brig on board which I was a passenger, and if you put them to death you will bring the vengeance of their countrymen on your head; you may have some excuse for shooting me, but you will have none if you murder them, for murder it will be, whatever you may call it.”