In the Days of Drake

CHAPTER VI.

“We have fallen in with a countryman of yours, Master Salkeld,” said he, regarding me closely, as if he wished to see how I took the news.

“Indeed!” said I. “The man just come aboard?”

“The same. A native of Cornwall, with an outlandish name, and an appetite as large as his body, judging by the way he eats.”

“He is no doubt hungry, Senor,” I said. “Perhaps he has been tossing about for a while.”

“A day and a night. One additional mouth, Master Salkeld, is what I did not bargain for.”

“But you would not have allowed the man to drift away to starvation and death?” I said.

“His life was no concern of mine, Master Salkeld. But I can make him useful; therefore he was worth saving. I shall enroll him as one of my crew, and carry him to the Indies.”

“And then?”

“Then he will go ashore with you, unless he prefers to go back with me to Cadiz—which he probably will not do.”

He left me then, and I sat wondering what he meant by saying that the English sailor would probably not care to go back to Spain with him. There seemed something sinister in his meaning. But I gave over thinking about it, for I was by that time firmly convinced that Captain Manuel Nunez was a thorough-paced scoundrel, and well fitted to undertake all manner of villainy, despite his polished manners and fine words. Also, I was certain that there was in store for me some unpleasant and possibly terrible fate, which I was powerless to avoid and which was certain to come. Therefore I had resigned myself to my conditions, and only hoped to show myself a true Englishman when my time of trouble came.

Nevertheless, many a sad hour and day did I spend, looking across the great wild waste of gray water and wondering what they were doing at Beechcot. In my sad thoughts and in my dreams I could see the little hamlet nestling against the purple Wold; the brown leaves piled high about the shivering hedgerows; the autumn sunlight shining over the close-cropped fields; and in the manor-house the good knight, my uncle, seated by his wood-fire, wondering what had become of me. Also I could see the old vicarage and the vicar, good Master Timotheus, thumbing his well-loved folios, and occasionally pushing his spectacles from his nose to look round and inquire whether there was yet news of the boy Humphrey. But more than these, I saw my sweetheart’s face, sad and weary with fear, and her eyes seemed as if they looked for something and were unsatisfied. And then would come worse thoughts—thoughts of Jasper and his villainy, and of what it might have prompted him to in the way of lies. He would carry home a straight and an ingenious tale—I was very sure of that. He would tell them I was drowned or kidnaped, and nobody would doubt his story. That was the worst thought of all—that my dear ones should be thinking of me as one dead while I was simply a prisoner, being carried I knew not where, nor to what fate.

On the evening of the second day after the Cornish sailor came aboard, the weather having moderated and the ship making good progress, I was leaning over the port bulwarks moodily gazing at the sea, when I felt a touch on my hand. Looking round, I saw the Englishman engaged in coiling a rope close to me. He continued his task and spoke in a low voice.

“I recognized you, master,” said he. “I looked through the skylight last night as you talked with the captain, and I knew you again. I know not how you came here, nor why, but it is strange company for a young English gentleman.”

“I was trapped on board,” I said.

“I thought so,” he responded. “But speak low, master, and take no heed of me. We can converse while I work, but it will not do for us to be seen talking too much. The less we are noticed together the better for our necks. How came you here, master? I had no thought of seeing you in such company.”

I told him as briefly as possible while he continued to coil the rope.

“Aye,” said he, when I had finished my story, “I expected something of that sort. Well, I am glad that the old Hawthorn left me swimming, though sorry enough that all her merry men are gone down below. But what! death must come. Now, young master, what can we do? I swore a solemn oath when your good uncle befriended me that I would serve you. This is the time. What can I do?”

“Alas,” said I, “I know not.”

“Do you know whither we are bound?” he asked.

“The Captain says to the West Indies. But I do not know if that be true or false.”

“More likely to be false than true, master. Now, then, hearken to me, young sir. I have seen a deal of life, and have been a mariner this thirty year or more. We must use our wits. Can you, do you think, find out what our destination really is?”

“I am afraid not,” I replied. “Nunez will not tell me more than he has already told me.”

“True,” said he; “true—you will get naught out of him. But I have a better chance. I can talk to the men—well it is that I know their lingo sufficiently for that. But nay, I will not talk to them, I will listen instead. They do not know that I understand Spanish. There are three of them speak broken English—they shall do the talking. I will keep my ears open for their Spanish—peradventure I shall hear something worth my trouble. You see, master, if we only know where we are going, and what we have to expect when we get there, we shall be in a much better position than we are now. For now we are as men that walk in a fog, not knowing where the next step will take them.”

“I will do whatever you wish,” said I.

“Then be careful not to have over-much converse with me, master. Yon Nunez has the eye of a hawk and the stealth of a viper, and if he does but suspect that you and I are in treaty together, he will throw me overboard with a dagger wound under my shoulder-blade.”

“How shall we hold converse, then?”

“As we are now doing. If I have aught to tell you I will give you a sign when you are near me. A wink, or a nod, or a cough—either will do. And what I have to say I will say quickly, so that whoever watches us will think we do no more than pass the time of day.”

So for that time we parted, and during the next few days I watched for Pharaoh Nanjulian’s sign eagerly, and was sadly disappointed when I received it not. Indeed, for nearly a week he took no notice of me whatever, giving me not even a sign of recognition as I passed him on the deck, so that Nunez was minded to remark upon his indifference.

“Your countryman seems but a surly dog,” said he. “I should have thought he would have sought your company, Master Salkeld, but he seems to care no more for it than for that of the ship’s dog.”

“He is a Cornishman and a sailor, and I am a Yorkshireman and a gentleman,” said I. “In England we should not associate one with the other, so wherefore should we here?”

“Nay, true, unless that you are companions in adversity, and that makes strange bedfellows,” said he. “But you English are not given to talking.”

I hoped that he really thought so, and that he had no idea of the thoughts within me. I was ready enough to talk when Pharaoh Nanjulian gave the signal.

It came at last as he stood at the wheel one night, and I stood near, apparently idling away my time.

“Now, master,” said he, “continue looking over the side and I will talk. I have found out where we are going.”

“Well?” I said, eager enough for his news.

“We are bound for Vera Cruz, master.”

“Where is that? In the West Indies?”

“It is a port of Mexico, master, and in the possession of the Spaniards, who are devils in human shape.”

“And what will they do with us there?”

“That I have also found out. It seems that your good cousin, Master Stapleton, did make a bargain with this noble Spanish gentleman, Captain Nunez, for getting you out of the way. The bo’s’n, Pedro, says that your cousin suggested that Nunez should sail you out to sea, and then knock you on the head and heave you overboard. But Nunez would have none of that, and decided that he would carry you with him to Vera Cruz.”

“And what will befall me at Vera Cruz?”

“He, being a pious man, will hand you over to the Holy Office.”

“To the Holy Office! You mean the Inquisitors? And they——”

“They will burn you for a Lutheran dog, master.”

We were both silent for awhile. I was thinking of naught but the fiendish cruelty which existed in such a man as Manuel Nunez. Presently I thought of Pharaoh Nanjulian.

“And yourself?” I said. “What will he do with you?”

“I am to share your fate, master. Senor Nunez is a good and pious son of Mother Church, and he will wipe out a score or two of sins by presenting the stake with two English heretics.”

After that I thought again for a time.

“Pharaoh,” I said at last, “we will not die very willingly. I have a good deal to live for. There is my sweetheart and my uncle to go back to, and also I have an account to settle with Jasper Stapleton. I will make an effort to do all this before my time comes.”

“I am with you, master,” said he.

“Have you thought of anything?” I asked.

“Nothing, but that we must escape,” he answered.

“Could we manage that after the ship reaches Vera Cruz?”

“No, for a surety. We shall be watched as cats watch mice. If we ever set foot on a quay-side in that accursed port, master, we are dead men. God help us! I know what the mercies of these Spaniards are. I stood in the City of Mexico and saw two Englishmen burnt. That was ten years ago. But more of that anon. Let us see to the present. We are dead men, I say, if we set foot in Vera Cruz, or any port of that cruel region.”

“Then there is but one thing for us,” I said.

“And that, master?”

“We must leave this ship before she drops anchor.”

“That is a good notion,” said he, “a right good notion; but the thing is, how to do it?”

“Could we not take one of the boats some night, and get away in it?”

“Aye, but there are many things to consider. We should have to victual it, and then we might run short, for we should have no compass, and no notion, or very little, of our direction. We might starve to death, or die of thirst.”

“I had as soon die of thirst or hunger, as of fire and torture.”

“Marry, and so would I. Yea, it were better to die here on the wide ocean than in the market-place of Mexico or Vera Cruz.”

“Let us try it, Pharaoh. Devise some plan. I will not fail to help if I can be of any use.”

“I will think,” he said; “I will think till I find a means of escape. I reckon that we have still a month before us. It shall go hard if our English brains cannot devise some method whereby we may outwit these Spanish devils.”

So we began to plot and plan, spurred on by the knowledge of what awaited us in Mexico.

CHAPTER VII.

Now that I knew his real sentiments towards me, it was very difficult to preserve my composure and indifference in the presence of Captain Manuel Nunez. As I sat at table with him, or talked with him on deck or in his cabin, I had hard work to keep from telling him my real thoughts of his wicked nature. Nay, sometimes I was sore put to it to keep my hands from his throat. Nothing would have pleased me better than to find either him or my cousin Jasper in some lonely spot where no odds could have favored them or me. Then my wrongs should have received full vengeance, and none would have blamed me for meting it out to these two villains. Judge how hard it was for me to have to associate, week after week, with one of the men who had so deeply wronged me, and, moreover, to have to preserve towards him a certain degree of cordiality. Try as I would, however, I could not give Nunez as much in the way of politeness as Nunez gave me. My manners were surly at the best, and I had much ado to preserve them at all.

Getting in the way of fair winds, we sighted the Bahamas, and passed the north-west coast of Cuba somewhere about the beginning of September. We were then some five hundred miles from Vera Cruz, but it was not until Christmas week that we bore down upon the Mexican coast. It was, I think, on Christmas morning that I first saw the shores of that beautiful land, whose natural loveliness served but to make more evident the horrible cruelties of the men who had seized and possessed it. Fair and wonderful it was as the mists lifted under the sun’s warmth to see the giant peak of Orizaba lifting its head, snow-white and awful, into the clear air, while full seventeen thousand feet below it the land lay dim and indistinct, nothing more than a bank of gray cloud.

“You would think a country with such a mountain as that would be a place of much delight, master, would you not?” said Pharaoh Nanjulian, pointing to the great white peak. “It looks fair and innocent enough, but it is a very devil’s land, this Mexico, since the Spaniards overran it; and yonder peak is an emblem of nothing in it, except it be the innocence of those who are murdered in God’s name.”

“What mountain is that?” I inquired.

“Orizaba, master. It lies some sixty miles beyond Vera Cruz, and is of a height scarcely credible to us Englishmen. God be thanked that there is so little wind to-day! With a fair breeze we should have been in port ere nightfall. As it is, we must take our chance to-night, master, or fall into the hands of the Inquisition.”

“I am ready for aught,” said I. “But have you thought of a plan?”

“Aye, trust me for that. Marry! I have thought of naught else since we came through the Bahamas. Certainly our chances are exceedingly small, for we must needs land in a country that is infested with our enemies, but we will do our best.”

“Tell me your plan, Pharaoh.”

“’Tis simplicity itself, master. To-night it is my watch. When the captain is asleep in his cabin, do you come on deck and go aft. You will find a boat alongside, and into it you must contrive to get as you best can. Hide yourself there so that no one can see you from the deck. When the watch is changed, instead of going forward I shall make for the boat. No one will see me, I promise you. When I am with you we shall cut the boat adrift and let the vessel outsail us. Then we must make for the coast in the direction of Tuxtla. We shall know which way to steer because of the volcano. But after that—why, I know not what we shall do.”

“Have you no plan?”

“Marry, I have ideas. We might go across country to Acapulco, hoping to find there an English ship; but ’tis a long and weary way, and what with Indians and wild beasts I fear we should never get there. Howbeit let us tackle one danger at a time.”

Being then called to dinner I went below, and was perforce once more obliged to sit at meat with my jailer, who, now that his charge of me was coming to an end, was more polite than ever, and treated me with exceeding great courtesy.

“You have been on deck, Master Salkeld,” said he, “and have doubtless perceived that we are in sight of land.”

“I have seen the great mountain, Senor,” I answered.

“True, the land is yet little more than a line. If the wind had been fair we should have dropped anchor ere midnight. Your voyage has been a long one, but I trust you have not been inconvenienced.”

“Only as a man may be by the loss of his liberty, Senor.”

“You will soon be free,” he answered, giving me one of his strange, mocking smiles. “And I trust that when we part it will be with a full recognition on your side of the way in which I have carried out our bargain.”

“As I do not remember our bargain, Senor, I am afraid that is hardly possible,” I made answer.

“Chut! your memory is certainly at fault. However, the facts will probably occur to you—later.”

“Part of the bargain, if I remember your first mention of it, Senor, was that you should carry me to the West Indies.”

“You are right in that,” said he.

“Are we approaching the West Indies?”

“The West Indies is a wide term, Master Salkeld. We are certainly not approaching the West India islands. We are, in fact, off the coast of Mexico, and the mountain you see in the distance is the famed peak of Orizaba. To-morrow morning we shall drop anchor in the port of Vera Cruz.”

“And what shall I do there, Senor?”

He smiled at the question—a mysterious smile, which had a grim meaning behind it.

“Who knows, Senor? There are many occupations for a young and active gentleman.”

Now, for the life of me I could not help asking him a very pertinent question before I left the cabin to return on deck.

“Senor,” I said, “seeing that we are to part so soon you will perhaps not object to giving me some information. How much did my cousin, Master Jasper Stapleton, pay you for your share in this matter?”

He gave me a curious glance out of his eye corners.

“The amount of your passage-money, Master Salkeld, was two hundred English guineas. I hope you consider the poor accommodation which I have been able to give you in accordance with that sum.”

“I have no fault to find with the accommodation, Senor,” I replied. “So far as the bodily comfort of your prisoner was concerned you have proved yourself a good jailer.”

“Let us hope you will never find a worse, Master Salkeld,” he answered, with another mocking smile. “But, indeed, you wrong me in speaking of me as a jailer. Say rather a kind and considerate host.”

I repressed the words which lay on the tip of my tongue ready to fling at him, and went on deck. The wind was still against us, and the ship made little progress, for which both Pharaoh and I were devoutly thankful, neither of us being minded to make Vera Cruz ere night fell. Certainly there was little to choose between the two courses open to us. If we were handed over to the Inquisitors by Nunez, we should certainly be burned at the stake, or, at any rate, racked, tortured, and turned over to a slave-master. If we reached shore we should have to undergo many privations and face all manner of perils, with every probability of ultimately falling into the hands of the Spaniards once more. Indeed, so certain did it seem that we should eventually meet our fate at the stake, or the rack, that more than once I doubted whether it was worth our while to attempt an escape.

But life is sweet, however dark its prospects may be, and a true man will always fight for it, though the odds against him are great. And, moreover, when a man knows what manner of death it is that awaits him, he will make the most desperate efforts to escape it, if it be such a death as that intended for us by the Spaniards. Now, although I had lived in such an out-of-the-way part of England, I had heard many a fearful story of the wrongs and cruelties practiced by the Inquisitors in Mexico. Tales came across the wide ocean of rackings and tormentings and burnings, of men given over to slavery, wearing their San-benitos for many a weary year, and perhaps dying of torture in the end. We would do something to escape a fate like that, God helping us!

Late that night Captain Nunez stood by my side on deck. The wind now blew from the north-west, and the ship was making headway towards land. To the south-east, through the darkness, glimmered the volcanic fire of Tuxtla, but the giant peak of Orizaba had disappeared.

“To-morrow at sunrise, Master Salkeld, we shall be in the port of Vera Cruz,” said Nunez. “I have some friends there to whom I will give you an introduction. Till then, Senor, sleep well.”

He smiled at me in the dim lantern light and went below. I remained pacing the deck for another hour. Once or twice I looked over the side and saw the boat swinging below our stern. Now, the poop of the Spanish ship was of a more than usual height, and I foresaw that I should have some difficulty in getting into the boat, and run a fair chance of drowning. Better drown, I thought, than burn; and so, after a time, the deck being quiet, I climbed over the side and managed to drop into the boat, where I made haste to hide myself as I best could.

It was some two hours after that when Pharaoh Nanjulian joined me, and immediately cut us adrift.

The ship seemed to glide away from us into the darkness.

CHAPTER VIII.

“’Tis no dream, master,” said he. “This is a very stern reality, as you shall quickly find. Nor is it time for dreaming. If we mean to come out of this adventure with whole skins, we shall have to acquit ourselves like true men.”

“I am ready,” said I. “Tell me what to do, and I will do it.”

“Well said,” he answered approvingly. “But I could see from the outset that you had the true spirit in you. You are a Yorkshireman, master, and I am a sea-dog of Cornwall; but, marry, we are both Englishmen, and we will come out of this scrape yet. ’Tis not the worst I have been in—but more of that anon. Now to begin with, we will discuss our present situation, and then, having determined our course of action, we will put it into execution.”

So we talked things over, and eventually came to these conclusions. We were, so far as Pharaoh could reckon, about ten miles from land, and we must reach the coast during the night if we wished to escape observation. That accomplished, we must strike across country for Acapulco, where it was possible we might meet with an English ship. The distance was some three hundred miles in a bee-line, and the character of the country rough; but that mattered little, for we should of necessity be obliged to keep away from the roads and bridges. There was no considerable town on our way, save Oaxaca, and that we must leave to our left. If we fell in with Spaniards we were lost men, for they would certainly carry us to Vera Cruz or to Mexico, and there hand us over to the Inquisitors. As for wild beasts and Indians, we must take our chance, trusting in God’s mercy for protection and help.

We now examined the boat, which was but a small craft that had been unstrung the day before, in order that the ship’s carpenter might examine some fancied defect in the rudder. Fortunately a pair of oars had been left in her, and these Pharaoh now took in hand, bidding me steer for the volcanic flame, which played over the peak of Tuxtla, immediately before us.

“I can pull ten miles in this sea,” said he, “and I warrant you have had little experience in that line, master. Now, you see that the wind has drifted us due south until to-night, and therefore Nunez has come some five-and-thirty miles out of his course for Vera Cruz. He will now beat up along the coast, heading north and west, and so if we steer south-by-east he will have hard work to catch us when he finds that we are gone, as he will ere morning. And now to work.”

Thereupon he fell to the oars, and with such good-will, that the light craft, her nose kept towards the volcanic fire, began to shoot through the regular swell of the placid ocean at a comfortable rate. Hour after hour he toiled, and would hear naught of my relieving him, though his throat grew dry with thirst and his arms ached. Gradually the coast loomed higher and higher through the gloom, and at length Pharaoh pulled in his oars, and stood up in the bow to look around him.

“When I was off this coast ten years ago,” said he, “I remember a spot hereabouts where a boat might land with safety and ease. We will lie quiet till the light comes, master, and then attempt a landing.”

“But suppose Nunez should see us?”

“He could not catch us ere we land if he did, unless by some strange chance he has gotten to the east of us—and that’s not possible,” said Pharaoh. “I reckon that by this time he is twenty miles to westward of us, and therefore we are well out of his reach.”

So we hove-to until the morning began to break, when, spying a convenient creek, we ran the boat ashore, and so set foot on Mexican soil, wondering what was to befall us next.

Now, to me, who had never seen aught of any land save England, these new surroundings were exceeding strange and wonderful. Although it was yet but a half-light all round us on shore, the giant peak of Orizaba, rising high and magnificent across the land to the north-west, was already blazing in the saffron-colored tints of early morning, while directly above us the lower heights of Tuxtla also reflected the rays of the rising sun. Once away from the shore the vegetation surprised and delighted me exceedingly. Great trees, such as I had never seen or heard of, sprang from the rocks and towered above us like gigantic ferns; the undergrowth was thick and luxurious, and the grass under foot was soft and heavy as velvet. Also, though it was winter, there were flowers and plants blossoming in the open such as never blossom in our English glass-houses, so that altogether I was amazed at the richness and prodigality of the land, and said so to my companion.

“Aye,” said he, “’tis indeed a fair land, master, and would be very well if these murderous Spaniards had left it alone. As it is, they have simply turned it into a pandemonium, such as all lands, fair or foul, become when men go a-lusting for gold and treasure. Yea, not even the Indians, with all their heathenish practices, were half so cruel as these Spaniards with their racks and thumb-screws, their stakes and daggers. And therefore the more reason why we should avoid them.”

Having somewhat refreshed ourselves by a brief rest, and armed ourselves with two stout cudgels cut from a neighboring tree by Pharaoh’s knife, which was the only weapon we had, we set forth through the woods, he leading the way. By that time we were faint with hunger and could well have done with a meal, but though there were, doubtless, Indian villages close at hand we dare enter none of them, and so went forward with empty stomachs. In the woods, however, we came upon prickly pears, which there grow wild, and these we essayed to eat; but had great difficulty in stripping them of the prickles, which, if they enter the tongue, do cause an unpleasantness that is not soon forgot. Our hunger growing very keen we sought to capture or slay some bird or animal, and Pharaoh being accustomed to this sort of hunting—for he had known many adventures—presently succeeded in knocking down a wild turkey, flocks of which bird we constantly encountered. We lighted a fire by means of his flint and steel, and cooked our quarry, and so went forward again refreshed by the food, which was pleasant enough to hungry men.

We pressed on for two days through the woods, living as we best could upon such animals as Pharaoh was able to knock down, and on the pears, which were all the more aggravating to our hunger because of their sharp spines. During those two days we did not come in contact with human beings, though we thrice saw parties of Indians and had to conceal ourselves from them. We followed no path, and if we chanced to cross one we immediately left it and plunged deeper into the woods. By the end of the first day our clothes were torn to rags, and hung in strips from our backs; by the end of the second our shoes had been cut to pieces, and so we looked as wretched and lost a couple of vagabonds as you ever saw.

On the evening of the second day we came to the verge of the wooded heights, and saw before us the wide plain of Orizaba, which lay between us and Acapulco, and must needs be crossed if we meant to reach the Pacific coast.

“It is here that I see most reason to be a-feared,” said Pharaoh, as we halted and looked out across the plain. “There is precious little cover or shelter on this plain, and it will be a miracle if we escape observation in crossing it. Moreover, there are constantly traversing it bodies of Spaniards, going to and from Oaxaca and Mexico, so that we shall be liable to capture at any moment, having nowhere to hide ourselves.”

“How would it do to hide ourselves as we best can by day, and to go forward by night?” said I.

“’Tis a good notion, master, and we will try it,” he answered. “But I fear me there is little in which we can hide, and as for food, I do not see how we are to manage. Howbeit, we will not despair yet awhile, having managed so far.”

That night we accordingly made our way across the wide and lonely plain, having for our guide the constellation Virgo, which Pharaoh Nanjulian knew and pointed out to me with some learning.

“Them that go down to the sea in ships,” said he, “must needs learn a good deal if they would prosper. I have studied the heavens somewhat, because more than once it has been my lot to find myself at sea without a compass, and in a plight like that a knowledge of the stars and planets is a good thing for a man to have at his command. Now, if we do but set our faces to yonder constellation we shall keep in a straight line for Acapulco—and God send we may land there safely!”

We made fairly good progress across the plain, but when morning broke from the eastern horizon we were still many a long mile from the great terrace of mountainous land which divides Mexico from Oaxaca and the Pacific coast. Therefore we had to cast about us for some shelter. This we had great difficulty in securing, for the plain at that part was entirely barren of shrub or tree, and there was not even a water-course at which we could slack our parched throats. But coming upon a half-ruined hut, which had evidently been the home of some Mexican Indian, tending his sheep in those wild parts, we took refuge in it and lay down to sleep, hoping that no one passing that way would feel curious enough to stop and examine our shelter.

This sort of life continued to be our lot for another day and night, during which we had scarcely anything in the way of food, and also suffered severely from thirst. And what with this, and with our fear of meeting Indians and Spaniards materially increased, our condition was by no means a happy one. But we still continued to hope, and to cheer each other onward.

CHAPTER IX.

Towards evening of the sixth day of our travels, we were lying asleep in a little gully formed by the descent of a mountain stream into the plain which we were then quitting. We had arrived at this spot early that morning, and finding sweet and fresh water there had drunk heartily of it and lain down to sleep in a sheltered spot. We were both well-nigh exhausted that morning, and our hunger was exceeding fierce; but sharp-set as we were our limbs refused to carry us on any foraging expedition, and therefore we sank to sleep, and slept despite our hunger and danger. It was well towards evening when I suddenly awoke. I know not what it was that made me open my eyes so suddenly, but there flashed through my mind at that moment a notion that we were being watched. It was a strange feeling, and one that occasioned me considerable discomposure, not to say fright, and it seemed to enter my brain with the same ray of sunlight that lifted my eyelids. And so strong was this feeling, that I experienced no surprise or astonishment when I saw two eyes looking straight into mine from over the top of a rock which rose immediately in front.

Nevertheless it was a hideous and fearful sight that I looked upon. The eyes shone, not out of a human face foul or fair, but out of the slits in a black cowl, drawn so tightly over its wearer’s head that nothing of him was to be seen from forehead to chin. There was this horrible black thing, a blot upon the bright sunlit sky behind, peeping at me from over the rock, and out of its eye-holes gleamed two eyes, as keen and bright as those of a wild animal. If I had not just then been parched with thirst I should have screamed in my terror. As it was, I gave a feeble cry, and the black head instantly vanished. I leapt to my feet and ran forward to the rock. Below it the ground was broken and rocky, and at a few yards’ distance was a belt of wood which stretched down to the plain. I fancied I could see a black robe disappearing amongst the trees, but though I waited a few moments I saw no further signs of a human being.

I returned to Pharaoh Nanjulian and woke him up. He was sound asleep when I touched him, but started to his feet as soon as I laid my hand on his shoulder.

“What is it, master?” he asked, scanning my face narrowly, as if he saw some sign of disturbance there. “You look alarmed.”

“I have seen a man watching us.”

“What kind of a man? Where has he gone?”

“Nay, that I know not. When I opened my eyes just now they fell full upon him. He stood behind that rock, peering over it at me. I saw naught of him but his head, and that was hidden in a black cowl with eye-slits, through which his eyes gleamed like fire.”

Pharaoh shook his head.

“’Tis a Familiar,” said he. “One of those accursed fanatics, master, that dog and pry after honest men like sleuth-hounds, and leave them not until the flame licks their bodies. This is bad news, i’ faith. Which way went he?”

I told him that I thought I had seen a black robe vanishing among the trees below, but could not be certain. At that he seized his staff and went down the slope himself, examining all the likely places in which a man might have concealed himself. But he found naught, and so came back to me, shaking his head.

“You are sure you were not dreaming?” he asked. “Men dream of strange things when hunger is on them.”

“How could I dream of what I never saw in my life?” said I.

“You mean the black hood, master? Alas! I have seen it, and so has many a good man, to his sorrow. Those accursed fanatics! They creep about in God’s blessed sunlight like reptiles. You should see them walk the streets. Close to the walls they go, their hands meekly folded, their cowled heads bent to the ground, and yet their eyes note everything. God is on their lips—yea, but the devil is in their hearts.”

“What shall we do, Pharaoh?” I asked him.

“Marry, all we can do is to leave this spot and push forward up the mountains. There are yet two hours of daylight, but we must chance that. If we can escape this fellow until darkness sets in, we may yet give him the slip altogether.”

So we set out once more, our bodies refreshed by our long sleep, but the hunger still fiercely gnawing within us. We were driven to plucking the prickly pears again, troublesome as was the peeling of them, for we could eat them as we walked, whereas if we had gone a-hunting for wild turkeys or rabbits we should have had to light a fire, and that would have attracted attention to our whereabouts. However, we were successful in knocking down one or two birds, and these we took along with us, intending to cook them as soon as we considered ourselves in safety.

As night fell we emerged from the wooded slope up which we had painfully traveled, and found ourselves on a good road, evidently much used for traffic.

“This must be the highway that leads from Oaxaca to Vera Cruz,” said Pharaoh, looking out upon it from a sheltering tree; “and lo! yonder is a post-house. We must bide awhile where we are or we shall be seen.”

So we sat down amongst the undergrowth, which was there thick and luxurious, as it was in every wood we had yet crossed, and served to conceal us very well from observation. More than once, as we stayed there, we heard the voices of people passing along the highroad above, and we judged from that, that if we ventured to show ourselves upon it before nightfall we should certainly be seen and stopped. Therefore, apart from our usual hunger and discomfort, we were very well content to remain hidden until such time as the coast cleared.

Now about dark, and just as we were making up our minds to a fresh start, and wondering how we should fare in the mountainous range which we had yet to cross, there arose not far away along the highroad a chorus of shouts and screams of such exceeding bitterness, that we felt sure murder was being done. We leapt to our feet and advanced to the edge of the highway, but feared to go further lest we should be seen.

“’Tis some footpad affray,” said Pharaoh, “and none of our business.”

But just then came still shriller cries of entreaty for help, and they were so pleading and full of agony, that we both leapt into the road with one accord.

“That is a woman’s voice,” said Pharaoh. “We must needs go to her assistance, come what will. Have your staff in readiness, master, and if there is need, strike hard.”

We ran swiftly down the road for some fifty yards, and then, turning a sharp corner, came suddenly upon the cause of the disturbance. In the middle of the highway stood a coach, drawn by two mules, and on either side of it were two tall fellows of ferocious aspect, striving to drag from it the occupants, who screamed for help without ceasing. There was no driver or servant visible; the rogues had doubtless escaped to the woods at the first sign of danger.

“Take the two on the left,” said Pharaoh, “and get in the first blow, master. Look out for their daggers.”

Now I had never been engaged in a fight since the days when Jasper and I occasionally came to fisticuffs with the village boys at Beechcot, but I felt my blood warm at the notion of combat, and so I sprang in between the two desperadoes who were busy at the left side of the coach, and laid my staff about their ears with hearty good-will. They were trying to drag an old man from the coach when we came up, and were threatening him with what I took to be the most horrible of curses. I hit one of them fair and square on the shoulder before he knew of my presence, and he immediately turned and fled, howling like a beaten dog. The other turned on me with a cruel-looking knife, but I knocked it out of his hand with a blow that must have broken his wrist, and he too fled into the woods with a fearful imprecation. Meanwhile, Pharaoh had beaten off his men on the other side; one was limping along the highway howling with pain, and the other lay on the ground senseless. We had carried the fight with sharp and startling effect.

Inside the coach sat an old gentleman and a young girl, and both were so frightened, that when we assisted them to alight they were nearly speechless, and could only sigh and moan. Presently, however, the young lady found her tongue, and began to pour out an astonishingly rapid flow of words to me, none of which I understood, but which I took to be expressions of gratitude.

“Say naught,” whispered Pharaoh in my ear, “I will talk to them in their own lingo. Do not let them see that we are English.”

“Noble gentlemen,” said the old man, presently recovering his speech, “I know not how to thank you for this valuable assistance. Caramba! if you had not appeared when you did we should certainly have had our throats cut. Isabella mia, art thou safe? Did those knaves lay finger on thee?”

“They did but seize me by the wrist, father,” answered the young lady. “But yourself—you are not hurt?”

“Nay, child, I called too loudly for that. But certainly another moment would have been our last. Senor, is yonder villain dead?”

“Nay,” said Pharaoh in his best Spanish, “he breathes, Senor, and will come to presently.”

“I am beholden, deeply beholden to you both, gentlemen. Dios! to think that I should be unable to travel on even so short a journey with safety! And my own servants—where are they, rascals and poltroons that they are. Ho! Pedro, Chispa, Antonio! I warrant me the knaves are hiding in these woods.”

This was exactly the truth, for at the old gentleman’s call three serving-men came forward from the trees and advanced tremblingly towards the coach. At sight of them their master flew into a terrible rage, and scolded them with a vigor which at any other time would have amused me highly.

“Cowards and knaves that ye are!” quoth he. “A pretty body-guard, indeed. What, ye pitiful rogues, did I not fit ye all out with pikes and pistols before quitting Mexico in case we met with ventures of this sort? Oh, ye poltroons, to fly me at the first glimpse of danger! And thou, Pedro Gomez, my coachman these ten years, fie upon thee!”

“Most noble Senor,” said the man, trembling and bowing, “I did but run to find assistance.”

“Thou liest, knave. Thou didst run to save thine own skin. But I will remember ye when we are safe in Oaxaca. I will have a convoy of soldiers over these mountains, and trust not to pitiful cowards like ye three. Tie me up this robber who lies there in the road, and fasten him behind the coach. We will see justice done on him at Oaxaca.”

While the men were doing this the old gentleman once more talked to Pharaoh, thanking us again, and asking how he could reward us. Were we journeying to Oaxaca? If so, let us go along with him, and he would reward us bounteously for our protection.

“We thank your honor,” said Pharaoh, “but we are two poor shipwrecked mariners, bound across country to Acapulco, where we hope to find ship. But if you would give us food and drink we would thank you, for in good sooth we are desperately hungered.”

Now it luckily chanced that the coach was well supplied with both the commodities which we desired so earnestly, and, therefore, the old gentleman made haste to reward us according to Pharaoh’s request, so that presently we found ourselves with our arms full of meat and bread and bottles of wine, our new-found friend pressing all upon us with great hospitality. Also, he would have us to take a purse of money, assuring us that we should find it useful, and as we had not a penny-piece between us we accepted this offering with thankfulness.

“I am sorry that ye cannot accompany me to Oaxaca,” said he. “I should have been glad of the company of two such stalwart champions. But know, caballeros, that I am devoutly thankful to you, and will aid you if ever ye have need of me, and it lies in my power.”

So we thanked him and said farewell for that time, and when the coach had gone on, taking the wounded prisoner with it, we continued our way up the mountains, first supping heartily of the food and wine, and blessing God for it.

“’Tis always well to help them that need help,” said Pharaoh. “Verily we are rewarded for so doing. This meat and drink makes a new man of me, master.”

And so it did of me, and it was well, for previously we had been sorely put to it to keep any heart or soul within our starving bodies.

CHAPTER X.

“God send that all may be as well with us during this next journey as it has been during the last,” said Pharaoh. “We have prospered exceeding well so far—yea, much better than I expected. Only let us do as well on our way over yonder plain and we shall reach Acapulco in safety.”

“But what then?” I asked, not knowing what his plans might be.

“That,” he answered, “is a difficult question, master. We shall certainly meet with no more love at Acapulco than at Vera Cruz, for the Spaniards have still some sore memories of the drubbings we have given them. But there we may find an English ship, for ’tis a convenient port for those vessels that come north. Maybe we shall have to wait awhile, and lie hidden outside the city or on the coast. All that we must leave till the time comes. ’Tis something that we have come thus far without let or hindrance.”

And truly he was right there and we felt thankful to God for it. In truth we had so far been most mercifully protected, and our adventures had abundantly proved to us that God is merciful to men who have no hope of any mercy or consideration from their fellow-creatures.

We now sought out a convenient resting-place, and having found a quiet corner amongst the rocks, we sat down there and ate another hearty meal from the stores given to us by the old Spaniard, after which, feeling much refreshed, we lay down to sleep in a hopeful state of mind. The good food and drink had marvelously restored us, giving us new strength in body and soul, so that we now hoped where we had previously been inclined to despair. And so, being impelled to brighter thoughts than had filled our hearts for some days, we slept more composedly, and had none of those evil visions which had disturbed our sleep on former occasions.

Nevertheless evil was drawing near to us while we slept.

It was about half-way through the afternoon, when I woke with a sudden feeling that all was not well. It was not the feeling which I had experienced the previous day, namely, that I was being watched, but a curious sensation of coming ill. How it came into my mind I know not; all I know is that I suddenly awoke and came into possession of all my senses with startling swiftness, so that while I had been sound asleep one moment I was wide awake the next, and looking and listening with very eager and acute perception. Also, my heart was beating hard in my breast, as a man’s heart will when he suddenly fronts some great danger. And then I knew that evil was at hand, and as I held up my head and looked round I saw it draw near.

The place in which we lay was a corner amongst the rocks on the side of the mountain. Before us lay a wide expanse of smooth stone, the top of a great rock that had its base in the woods below. Behind us rose a high wall of rock, and beyond that was the sun, now sinking towards the western horizon. Where we lay everything was in deep shadow, but the table-like piece of rock in front was bathed in brilliant sunlight, and when I woke and looked round my eyes fell upon it, and on a sight which was like to freeze my heart within me.

Some ridge of rock or mountain high above us was outlined on the bright stretch of reflected sunlight at our feet, and on this as I looked appeared two shadows—the shadows of human beings, standing motionless on the ridge, and evidently looking out from that commanding position across the wide plain that lay far below.

I recognized one of the shadows instantly. It was the figure of a man cloaked in some long clinging garment, that enveloped him from head to foot. As he turned his head I saw the peculiar cowl, with its peaked top, which had confronted me the previous day.

The other shadow seemed to be that of a naked man, of slender, sinewy limbs, who carried a bow, and whose head was ornamented with long, waving feathers. Now he stood motionless against the sky, looking like a figure cut out of stone or bronze; now he shaded his eyes with his hand, evidently gazing across the plain below; now he stooped and seemed to examine the ground at his feet. But the shadow of the cowled and cloaked figure stood statue-like and never moved.

Now, if you can so exercise your imagination as to put yourself in my place, you will not be slow to recognize the terror which came over me at this unexpected sight. If I had seen a dozen armed men spring out upon us from the rocks I should have cared not. But to see these sinister-looking shadows, motionless or restless, on the bright patch of sunlight, was an awful thing—yea, to this day I do often see it in my dreams, and wake sweating with fear and horror.

I leaned over and touched Pharaoh lightly. He woke on the instant and sat up.

“Hush!” I whispered, pointing to the shadows. “Look there!”

He lifted his hand to his brow and gazed at the shadows with a wonder-struck air. Then he seemed to recognize their import, and turned to me with a shake of the head.

“Lad,” said he, “we are about to have trouble. ’Tis that accursed Familiar. He hath tracked us. Said I not that these devils in man’s shape are like sleuth-hounds?”

“But the other, Pharaoh? What is the other?”

“An Indian, lad. See there, he is stooping to examine the ground. They are like dogs—they will find a trace where we should see naught.”

“What shall we do?”

“God help us!—I know not. Once on our track they will hunt us down. See there!”

To the two shadows was suddenly added a third, a fourth, a fifth, then a sixth and seventh, and presently others until we counted twelve.

“All Indians except the monk,” said Pharaoh. “He is the huntsman and they are his dogs. See, they are separating again. Lad, get thy cudgel in readiness. ’Tis the best weapon we have.”

We started to our feet and gripped our staves firmly. And at the prospect of a fight my terror died away. There was no ghostly fear about things of flesh and blood. You can strike a man, but who can strike a shadow?

At that moment, over a rock to our left, appeared the face of an Indian, scarred and painted, a very devil’s face to look at. We were seen at last!

CHAPTER XI.

In this prediction he was right, for within a moment the whole body of twelve Indians had surrounded us, and stood gazing at us with faces in which I looked in vain for any sign of compassion at our forlorn state. Behind them came the monk, still clad in his shroud-like cowl, and moving with silent steps as if he were a ghost rather than a living man. But as he drew near to where we stood he threw back the hood from his head, and then we saw his face for the first time.

I will describe this man to you, because he was not only the most remarkable but also the most relentlessly cruel man that I have ever come across in my life. As for his name, which we learnt ere long, it was Bartolomeo de los Rios, and his one aim and passion was the hunting, torturing, and burning of heretics. He had the faculties of a sleuth-hound and the instincts of a serpent, and when he had once set his heart on hunting a man to his death, it was only by God’s mercy that that man escaped.

Nevertheless this man as he stood before us, looking steadily upon us from under his cowl, did not seem so fearful a monster of cruelty as we afterwards knew him to be. We saw simply a thin, dark-faced monk, whose face was pale as parchment, and whose eyes were extraordinarily bright and keen. The lines and furrows on his brow and cheeks seemed to tell of pain or thought, and his tightly-pursed, thin lips betokened firmness and resolution. I think he could have stood calmly by while his own father was being tortured and have changed no muscle of his face. Thus he was an object of much greater fear than the Indians, who were certainly horrible enough to frighten anybody that had never seen them before.

We stood gazing at the monk and his Indians for a moment ere either of us spoke. The Indians seemed to wait instructions from the monk, and looked toward him with eager eyes. As for Pharaoh and myself, we waited to see what would happen. I think we both realized that fortune had suddenly deserted us, but nevertheless we kept a firm grip on our cudgels, and were both resolved to use them if necessary.

The monk spoke. His voice was low, sweet and gentle—there was naught of cruelty in it.

“Greeting, my children,” said he, addressing us. “Be not afraid. There shall no harm come to you.”

“It will be ill for the man who threatens us with any,” answered Pharaoh in Spanish. “We are travelers, and have no mind to be disturbed.”

“You travel by strange paths,” said the monk. “To what part of the country are you going?”

“To Acapulco,” answered Pharaoh, adding to me, in English, “there is no harm in telling him that.”

“There is a good road from Oaxaca to Acapulco,” said the monk. “Why not follow it?”

“We are minded to take our own way,” said Pharaoh doggedly.

“You Englishmen are fond of that,” observed the monk with a strange smile.

“Who says we are English?” asked Pharaoh.

“Your Spanish is proof of that.”

“I am from Catalonia,” said Pharaoh. “We do not speak pure Castilian there.”

“And your companion? Is he, too, from Catalonia, or is he dumb?”

To that Pharaoh answered nothing. The monk turned his bright eyes on me.

“What is your business here?” he said, in very good English. “If you cannot speak to me in my tongue, I must talk with you in yours.”

“Answer him,” said Pharaoh. “There is no use in further concealment.”

“I see no reason why I should answer you, master,” said I, feeling somewhat nettled at the man’s peremptory tone. “What right have you to stop us in this fashion?”

He smiled again, if that could be called a smile which was simply a sudden flash of the eyes and a tightening of the thin lips, and looked round at his Indians.

“The right of force,” said he quietly. “You are two—we are many.”

“Two Englishmen are worth twenty Spanish devils,” said I sulkily.

“If it is to come to fighting,” said Pharaoh, gripping his cudgel.

The monk said a word in a low tone. The Indians on the instant raised their bows and drew their arrows to the full extent of the string. The tips pointed dead upon us.

“Englishmen,” said the monk, “look at those arrows. Every one of them is tipped with poison. If you move I give the word, and those arrows will find a resting place in you. Let them but touch your arms, your shoulders, inflicting but a scratch, in a few seconds you will be as one that is paralyzed, in a few minutes you will lie dead.”

The man’s words were gentle enough, but somehow his low, sweet voice made my blood run cold. Why did cruelty veil itself in such a honeyed tone?

“What is it you want of us, master?” asked Pharaoh presently.

“Your names and business.”

“That is easily answered. This gentleman is one Master Humphrey Salkeld, of Yorkshire in England, who hath many powerful friends at court; as for me, I am a sailor, and my name is Pharaoh Nanjulian, of Marazion in Cornwall. As for our business, we are shipwrecked mariners, or as good, and our hope is to find an English vessel at Acapulco and so return home. If you be a Christian you will help us.”

“Christians help only Christians. I fear ye are Lutherans, enemies of God.”

“That we are not,” answered Pharaoh stoutly. “I will say my Paternoster in English with anybody, and my Belief too, for that matter.”

The monk sighed. Perhaps he was disappointed to find that Pharaoh had so much knowledge.

“And you?” he said, turning to me.

“I am a Christian,” I answered, surlily enough, for I did not like this examination.

“We are both Christians, master,” said Pharaoh. “Maybe we think not as you do on some points, but ’tis naught. So help us of your charity, and assist us to get out of this country to our own, and we will say a Paternoster for you night and morning.”

“Verily,” answered the monk, “you speak fairly. I will help you. You shall go with me to Mexico, and there we will see what ships there are at Vera Cruz.”

“We would rather push forward to Acapulco,” answered Pharaoh. “There are more likely to be English ships there.”

“English ships have gone there little during recent years, and you will find none now,” said the monk.

“For all that we would rather take our chance there,” said Pharaoh.

“It will be better for you to accompany me to Mexico. Vera Cruz is close at hand. And now, as the day waxes late, we will proceed.”

Now, there was no use in further argument, for the monk had every advantage of us, and was clearly minded to have us accompany him at whatever cost. Therefore we had to yield ourselves to his will but never did men give in with worse grace or heavier hearts than we.

“God help us!” said Pharaoh. “We are going into the very jaws of death in going to Mexico. We shall meet Nunez there, and even if we do not, we shall be handed over to the Inquisitors. But God’s will be done. Moreover, while there is life there is hope. We may pull through yet.”

So we set out, the monk going first and taking no further notice of us for some time. He would walk for hours as if absorbed in his own thoughts, and again for a long stretch of time he would read his book or count his beads, but to us he said little. He walked in the midst of the Indians, who for their part were kind and considerate to us, and indulged in no cruelties. Indeed, during our journey to the City of Mexico we had no reason to complain of discomfort or poor fare, for we had all that men can require, and were well treated, save that at night they guarded us more closely than we liked. But as to food and drink, we were abundantly served, and so began to wax fat, in spite of our anxiety.

There was no restriction placed upon our tongues at this time, and therefore Pharaoh and I talked freely whenever we were out of hearing of the monk. As for our conversation, it was all of one thing—the prospect that awaited us in Mexico.

“What will come of this venture, Pharaoh?” I asked him one day as we drew near our destination. “Shall we come off with whole skins, or what?”

“It will be well if we come off with our lives, master. I have been thinking things over to-day, and I make no doubt that this monk will hand us over to the Inquisition. Put no trust in what he says about finding us a ship at Vera Cruz. The only ship he will find us will be a dungeon in some of their prisons. Well, now, what are our chances when we fall into the hands of these fellows?”

“Nay, very small I should say. I am well-nigh resigned to anything. Nevertheless, Pharaoh, I shall make a fight for it.”

“It may not come to fighting. Can you say the Paternoster, the Ave Maria, and the Creed?”

“I can say two of them, and I can learn the third. But what difference does that make?”

“All the difference ’twixt burning at the stake and wearing a San-benito in a monastery for a year or two. Now, if we are burnt there is an end of us, but if they put us into a monastery with a San-benito on our backs we shall still have a chance of life, and shall be poor Englishmen if we do not take it.”