"My men," I said, "I thank thee in the name of the Queen for thy courtesy, and would give thee in return—King Philip of Spain!"
The Spaniards drank it with a cheer, but it was nothing like the shout that had greeted the name of Elizabeth.
Then there were toasts of every sort and kind; the noise at the long tables arose to an uproar as some toast was drank of more than usual interest.
I glanced down the tables where the men sat, for we took no part in their merriment, but sat at our own table, quiet and composed. There were the spoils of many a galleon upon the board; goblets and drinking cups of gold and silver; candlesticks and vessels from the monasteries; richly embroidered altar cloths spread the long tables; and the heavy carved chairs of the priests seated the pirates at their revel. Behind the tables the natives, soft-footed and silent, filled the glasses as oft as they were emptied.
Without the night, quiet and silent, brooded; within the lights, the laughter, the song—revelry held high carnival. To-morrow they would sail, and who knew how many would return? They would feast to-night; what mattered the morrow, which might hold for them the halter? But to-night—ah, yes!—to-night was theirs, and the night was young yet; fill up again.
A tall fellow, his face flushed with the wine he had drunk, was roaring out a wanton love song, his fellows keeping time to the tune with their glasses upon the board. He finished amidst a storm of cheers and applause. Far down the table one of the men had already fallen forward upon the board, overcome by the wine that he had poured down.
A feeling of anxiety came over me; what were not the rogues capable of, when later in the night they should be crazed by the liquor that they had drunk, with nothing to hold them in check except the fear of their chief, and he was but one man, no matter how resolute and determined? What could he do against two hundred and fifty drunken, crazed wretches, hardened to every scene of misery and woe, who feared neither God nor man? Would they not, when they had reached the pitch of frenzy, turn upon Oliver and myself, and vent their fury upon us? For myself, I cared not, but I feared for the boy.
DeNortier must have seen the thought upon my face as I turned to him, for he spoke immediately.
"Have no fear," he said. "I have often had such revels before, and no harm came of it; my men know my hand too well to attempt to anger me."