CHAPTER LI.

THE OLD DRAGON-TREE OF CAORA.

The trial came on in a couple of days after, and proceeded with a celerity unknown in England or Scotland either. We were all examined, and previously were sworn, not on a Bible, but over two sword-blades held in the form of a cross,—for such is the old chivalric custom in a Spanish court of law.

Without hesitation the judges found Antonio guilty; he was sentenced to die by the garotte; and heard his doom with apparent apathy.

The tindal of the Lascars was released, as it would appear that he had acted under compulsion; but Benito Ojeda and eight other Spanish seamen were sentenced to work in the fortifications or on the highways for ten years, in chains, as felons or galley-slaves.

The trial over, Hislop and I gladly left the crowded hall of justice, and made our way through the streets of Santa Cruz, passing a mingled population of yellow mulattoes, Spanish laborers, negro water-carriers, mercantile men, old ecclesiastics, and importunate beggars, till we reached our hotel, the windows of which faced the sea.

There we resolved to dine, and then ride over to Orotava, to see the wonderful tree which grows near it, taking care, however, to provide ourselves with rifles and ammunition for our protection as the adventures of Tom Lambourne and myself were too recent to be forgotten.

On our return we hoped to be able to visit the Valley of the famous Diamond, which was only visible in the night.

I have little more to relate now than what would seem more suitable to a traveller's commonplace book than the conclusion of adventures so wild as mine have been; and so must hasten on.

At the posada in the main street of Santa Cruz we procured horses; and leaving the fertile plain in which the little city stands, traversed a bleak and barren mountain-track for some leagues, until we reached the town of Orotava, or Caora, as it was named of old when the Dragon-tree was a sapling. It is built on the western side of the isle, and is both pretty and picturesque.

The mighty force of the Atlantic was breaking on the shore, in billows so vast, so white, so over-arching, and with a sound so thundering, that they exceeded all we had ever heard before. The sky was becoming black to the northwest, and he could see the ships at anchor near Porto de la O getting under way, and shaking out their courses with all speed, to make a safe offing in case a squall came on.

Orotava, a pretty little town, clean and neatly built, stands upon the green slope of a beautiful hill, and faces the Atlantic. Ruins of sugar-mills and wine-presses were to be seen here and there among the corn and maize-fields, the vineyards and gardens; for these remains, now almost covered by creepers and luxuriant plants, are the ruined fragments of the edifices destroyed by the great hurricane of 1826.

We reached an inn, gave our horses to the stable-boy, dined on a galina stewed with beans (and garlic of course); we had some native wine, and for a shilling might have had a sackful of pineapples.

From the windows of the posada, as we sat at dinner, we watched the waves rolling in mountains of snowy foam, before the wind, in-shore; and all the craft weighing or slipping their cables, and beating close-hauled under topsails and courses to attain good sea-room, lest they might be driven on the rocks. It was a lively sight, and a stirring one.

"Oh, for a fair wind when we sail again!" said I. "I would beg, borrow, or steal one, if I knew where such commodities were to be had."

"'Tis a pity you are not a subject of King Eric-with-the-Windy-Cap," replied Hislop, while making up a cigarito. "See how clumsily those lubbers sheer that brig to her anchor! Why the deuce don't they keep the current right ahead, and lessen the strain on the chain-cable? I shouldn't like to have my fingers between it and the hawse-pipe just now. Why, she's forging broadside on!"

"Who was King Eric-with-the-Windy-Cap?" I asked.

"Did you ever read Olaus Magnus?"

"No; the name would seem enough for me. Moreover, we don't read Scotch poetry at Eton."

"He was one of the oldest annalists of Scandinavia, and you lose a deal in not reading him."

"Well, but this Eric——" I resumed.

"Was King of Sweden. He was surnamed Waderhat, and was deemed in his time a great sorcerer,—so great, that he ranked second to none in that kind of craft. He was on the most familiar terms with all kinds of goblins and evil spirits, and constructed a peculiar cap, which by spells he endowed with such extraordinary power that the wind would blow from whichever way he chose to turn it. Our old Scotch fishermen in Orkney and Shetland, who are half Norsemen, can spin yarns by the hour about King Eric Waderhat; and it was by his aid, says Olaus, and thus being able to have always a fair wind, that the great pirate, Regner, King of Denmark, who was his nephew, carried the terror of his name to the uttermost parts of Europe. But now, Dick, as the bones of the galina are picked clean, as the wine is drunk, and the sun in the west, let us be off to see this famous old bit of arboriculture,—the Dragon Tree of Caora. Ah! that brig has got her anchor apeak at last; the port-tacks are close aboard, and the jib hoisted, and—by George! if her stupid fiddle-head is long in paying off she'll be foul of that polacca! But here comes the senor de casa."

We asked the landlord, who entered at that moment, where the famous tree stood; on which he politely offered to accompany us; and certainly our visit was not time wasted.

In the garden of a Senor Franqui (whose father showed it to Humboldt), we saw this gigantic specimen of the many-headed palm, the aged Dragon Tree of Caora.

Its stem is forty-eight feet in diameter, and ascends like a solid pillar to the height of sixty feet, from whence an incredible number of strangely twisted and fantastic branches shoot off in every direction, but all bearing flowers and fruit.

"This, senores," said the hostalero, "is said by a learned traveller——"

"Aye," interrupted Hislop; "you mean Humboldt."

"Si, senor,—to be the oldest tree in the world. Documents exist in the town of Santa Cruz which prove that in the fifteenth century—that is, when the Spaniards first came here under Don Alphonso, Ferdinand of Lugo, and others—it was just the size we see it now, and not a twig more or less.

"This is very likely, Dick," said Hislop, in English, turning to me; "but for all that, it is not the oldest tree in the world. Europe and Asia are full of trees with doubtful or fabulous ages; but M. de Candolle, of Geneva, asserts that the most ancient tree in the world—one which was in full bloom when our Saviour was born—is the old yew of Fortingall, at the mouth of Glenlyon, in Scotland. Well, senor," he resumed, in Spanish, "and this palm?"

"Alphonso de Lugo struck it thrice with his sword, in token that Teneriffe and all the adjacent isles belonged to Ferdinand and Isabella, to Castile, and to the Catholic Church."

"What wonders, and how many changes has the world seen since then! And this old tree is in bloom and bearing yet!" I exclaimed.

"I think," added Hislop, as we turned to leave the garden of Senor Franqui, "that Humboldt says this species is very slow in growth; and that the Dragon Tree required a thousand years to attain its present maturity."

"A thousand years!" I repeated, looking at it with that vague emotion of interest which is generally excited by the knowledge that we are looking on what we, in all probability, shall never see again.

It was near evening when we returned to the posada; and after giving a "consideration" to the hostalero, who was a very pleasant and intelligent Spanish colonist from the old city of Iaen, in Andalusia, we mounted to return; on which he said,—

"Senores Inglesos, you should not leave Teneriffe without visiting the Valley of the Diamond."

"We had some thoughts of doing so," said Hislop; "but is it far from this?"

"About a league and half."

"Where away?"

"Among the mountains, on the northern slope of the great peak."

"Ugh! the scenery looks rather wild thereabout," replied Hislop; "but 'twere a pity to leave without having a look at it, after all."

"You may remember, Marc," said I, "that this diamond is particularly mentioned in the old volume of voyages which I found in the water-logged brig at Alphonso."

"Yes, to be sure I do," replied Hislop; "and that book, I think, must form part of La Collection de Viages y Discubrimientos. The diamond was first seen by Albuquerque and Tristan da Cunha, senor hostalero. I believe that it shines only in the night," said Marc, turning to the landlord.

"But then it beams like a star in heaven, senores," replied the Spaniard, crossing himself.

"You have seen it then?" I asked.

"Oh! senor, a hundred times and more."

"Is it supposed to be worth much?"

"From its light and size, many millions of duros."

"And yet it has been allowed to glitter away there for more than three hundred and fifty years!" I exclaimed, with incredulity.

"Because, senor, its exact locality can never be discovered, even by the most active searchers."

"Why?"

"On their approach it gradually fades, and finally disappears."

"But in daylight?"

"Not a trace of it can be found among the rocks, though a thousand men have searched for it a thousand times, till their fingers were worn and their hearts grew sick."

"Strange!" we exclaimed.

"Many an illustrious senor who has been captain-general of the Canaries for his Most Catholic Majesty has offered a thousand duros for its discovery, and many a dog of a Jew has almost lost his senses in the rocky valley; others have nearly died of starvation rather than quit the search; but it always seems to melt away on being approached or as day dawns, so there are many who aver that it is no diamond at all."

"What then?"

"An enchanted light," replied the hostalero.

Hislop seemed to ponder for a moment; then a bright smile spread over his jovial and sunburnt face, and he asked,—

"Will this be a good night for seeing it, think you, senor hostalero?"

"The innkeeper turned to the north-west, where the clouds were still banking up in heavy masses.

"Si, senor; I should say so."

"At what distance is this diamond visible, and from what spot?"

The Spaniard now gave us a knowing glance; his keen black eyes glittered, and he laughed aloud.

"Par todos santos, if you, senor, have any desire for getting it, you may find it easier to call down one of the blessed stars that are now beginning to twinkle in the heavens above us."

"Never mind what I wish; but say, where is it to be seen?"

"If you ride fast, senores, the light will yet enable you to reach the valley," replied the hostalero, still smiling,—almost grinning, in fact.

"Pursue the way from this to the eastward for nearly a league, passing on your left La Montanza de Centejo, and so on, till you reach a well shaded by three old rosewood trees."

"What next?"

"Wheel off by a narrow path that lies to the right, and pass between two rocks; you will then see the summit of the great peak before you; and after proceeding about a mile, you will come to a flat stone, and from there you will perceive the diamond (if the atmosphere serves) shining like a light in the face of the rock, about fifty yards or so before you."

"Muchos gratios, senor," said Hislop; "these directions seem very clear."

"I am glad senor is pleased," replied the hostalero, removing his broad straw hat.

"Could you oblige me with a piece of hard chalk?"

"Hard chalk," reiterated the hostalero; "certainly, senor," and in a second he brought a piece from his kitchen.

Hislop thanked him, placed it in his pocket, and we rode off just as the clear twilight began to deepen with the most magnificent effects of lingering light and purple shadow on land and sea, on mountain, isle, and shore.

"What are you about to do with that piece of chalk?" asked I; "for assuredly there is something veiled under the request."

"You shall soon learn,—that is, if we see this real or enchanted diamond," said Hislop, laughing.

"What do you mean?"

"That I shall put this diamond, if such indeed it is, into my old mother's lap, when I go home to Scotland!" said he, with a boisterous laugh, in which I could not resist joining.

CHAPTER LII.

THE VALLEY OF THE DIAMOND.

We rode due eastward by a narrow path that traversed mountains of rock, covered by wild laurels, rosewood trees, and vines. Far away on our left, wearing the deepest indigo tint, spread the ocean, the horizon line of which was distinctly seen against a sky of coppery red that appeared beneath the bank of squally clouds, which were fast dispersing now, or whirling upward into mid air and melting away.

In a valley on our left some lights were seen to glitter as if from the windows of houses.

"That is Montanza de Centejo, no doubt," said Hislop.

In a few minutes more we saw the three rosewood trees, and then the wayside well beneath the shadow of their branches. It was a simple and rude arch of stone, from a wooden duct in which the water flowed into a stone basin.

"Here is the fountain," said I; "and now our path to the right—"

"Lies through a gap in these rocks."

"An ugly place!"

"Is your rifle loaded, Dick?"

"Yes,—and capped too," said I.

Passing through a gorge in the piles of rock that rose on our right, we found ourselves in a large and rugged ravine, through which, under masses of creepers, there brawled a rough black mountain torrent, and by its side there wound a narrow path.

This ravine had been formed by that convulsion of nature which took place during the visit of Alphonso de Albuquerque and Tristan de Cunha, when the famous diamond was said to have first become visible.

The stupendous cone of the great Piton rose before us at the end of the ravine. In some places the latter was dark as blackest night could be, while the former, for some thousand feet of its height, below even the region of laurels, was bathed in a pure white flood of silver sheen, for a splendid moon had now arisen from the sea.

After proceeding with our horses at a walk for about a mile, looking carefully for the next landmark mentioned by the hostalero, Hislop drew up and dismounted, saying,—

"Here it is, Dick."

I also dismounted, and found near the pathway a stone which had evidently once stood upright, but now it lay flat among the long grass and wild flowers that grew there.

Notwithstanding the gloom which yet enveloped us I could make out an inscription, partly by feeling with my fingers. It was deeply cut, and ran thus:

"Aqvi mataron a Juan Hererro. 1850."

"Here they slew John Smith," said Hislop, echoing, or rather, freely translating the legend.

"They,—who were they?"

"Some robbers, no doubt; perhaps, like us, he came in search of the great diamond."

"Then is he buried here, think you?" asked I, instinctively stepping back from the stone.

"I cannot say. It is lively this, and not a bit of moonshine here yet!"

Eagerly and anxiously we gazed about us, but saw not a ray of light in the dark valley or ravine; and though neither of us said so at the time, we were not without vague suspicions of having been fooled, or, it might be, lured into some awkward trap; for our ideas of the Spanish character had by no means improved upon acquaintance.

"Do you see the diamond yet, Dick?" asked my friend for the third time.

"Not I. Are you sure that we are on the spot from which it is visible."

"Here, by this flat stone, we were to stand. Try a little more to your right."

"I see nothing yet."

There was a pause, during which we walked about, peering into the obscurity.

"Stay,—I see something!" I exclaimed, in an excited tone. "Come this way—a yard or so—it shines now!" I added, when, after stepping a pace or two to the left, a faint gleam, like the first ray of a small and very distant revolving beacon—a tiny one indeed—stole upon the gloom; and then a steady sparkle, like that of a star, shone through the pitchy blackness that enveloped the whole length and breadth of the hollow.

The hostalero of Orotava had not deceived us, for the diamond was now before us, shining visibly.

Like a star, it seemed to shrink and tremble while we gazed at it, which Hislop did, long and steadily.

"Well, Dick Rodney," said he, "you have first seen the diamond, and shall have the largest share, if we get it."

I laughed at this, and asked,—

"How does it shine thus in the dark?"

"Because the diamond is a gem possessing a greater refractive power than any other precious stone, and reflects every atom of light which falls upon it at an angle of incidence greater than twenty-four and a half degrees, even before being cut. I remember that Benvenuto Cellini, in his History of Jewelry, mentions a magnificently colored carbuncle, which was found in a vineyard near Rome simply by its shining in the night. Stand steadily where you are, Dick, and don't lose sight of it, while I advance up the ravine."

He did so thrice, and each time found that on proceeding about twenty yards, it faded away altogether.

"It is very probably a mere rock crystal," said I.

"No rock crystal ever shone with a brilliance like that!" replied Hislop, vehemently; "but whether it is a diamond of the purest water or a will-o'-the-wisp—a spunkie, as we call it in Scotland—I'll give it a touch with a short Enfield, point-blank."

Hislop's rifle was already capped and loaded, but with his knife he shaped an oblong bullet of the hard white chalk which he had procured at Orotava, and carefully rammed it down the barrel.

Having some matches about him, he touched the knob of the foresight and the notch of the back-sight with phosphorus, and thus bringing the two lights in a line with the diamond, he took a long and steady aim from his left knee, and fired!

The dark valley and the steep mountains rang with a thousand reverberations, as they seemed to toss the sharp report from echoing rock to rock, until it died away in mid-air; but still the diamond shone as brightly as ever, and our horses plunged so wildly that they nearly broke away from us.

"If my aim is true, and the chalk bullet has struck the rock, it will indicate the bearings of the diamond, and we may unship it somehow in the morning," said the practical Scotchman, as he quietly reloaded.

"Morning? Must we wait here till then?"

"Well, Dick, it is worth waiting for; and after all we have gone through since that day when we picked you up adrift in the chops of the Channel, we may sleep here pleasantly enough in one of the thickets."

After lingering a little time and observing the strange sparkle, the actual origin of which we could scarcely realize, we found a thick grove of laurels; and securing our horses to two branches by the bridles, we unstrapped from each the large coarse horse-cloth, which is frequently folded and placed under the saddle by riders in Spain and its colonies, and in these rugs we wrapped ourselves for warmth and protection from the dew and mosquitoes.

There we lay, each with a loaded rifle by his side, and his horse picketed near. Sailor-like, Hislop went off to sleep at once, as sound as a timber-head; but for hours I found it impossible to follow so pleasant an example, and lay watching the light of the moon, which, as she rose higher in the sky, descended the vast side of the Peak of Teneriffe, and at last filled the volcanic ravine with a flood of liquid silver.

The loveliness of the night, the solemnity of the scenery, the lonely position in which I found myself, and the strange errand on which we had come, all conduced to fill me with contemplation and many thoughts that banished slumber.

In all the vast expanse of heaven, into which that wondrous peak ascended to the height of more than twelve thousand feet, no cloud was visible; but there were millions upon millions of stars, rivalling and almost eclipsing the splendor of the moon.

The silver light was poured aslant into the valley through every rent and fissure in the crags, causing masses of shadow between them; while the wild vines and the cocoa-nut trees were covered with prismatic gems as the dew gathered on their pendant leaves and fruit. So splendid was the moonshine, and so mild was the atmosphere, that the wild canaries, like golden birds in some fairy valley, were twittering about us as if day had broken.

At last I grew weary and slept.

With the first peep of day Hislop roused me. It was well to be up and doing before others, who might observe us, came out of the ravine, though it had all the aspect of a lonely and unfrequented place. About two miles of the mountain peak were gilded by the yet (to us) unrisen sun; but in the valley there was only twilight when we folded our rugs, saddled our horses, and proceeding to the stone which bore the name of Juan Hererro, went from thence in a straight line toward the rocky cliff, which closed in the end of the hollow, at the distance of somewhat more than fifty paces.

We reached a sloping bluff of rugged basalt, faced by strange lava-like columnar masses that might easily be dislodged by a crowbar, and all were spotted by luxuriant lichens, which in the wet season would ripen into velvety moss, while long green trailers, covered with gorgeous wild-flowers grew in every cleft and chasm.

This rocky bluff was about sixty feet in height, and, by the increasing light, Hislop scanned it with a keen nautical eye, that had been accustomed to detect sight and signs in every state of the atmosphere and elements.

In a minute or less an exclamation of satisfaction escaped him, and pointing upward,—

"Dick,", he added, "do you see that?"

I looked in the direction indicated, and saw a small white star formed by the chalk bullet upon the face of the rock.

"I do," said I; "I do!"

"There or thereabout must be this diamond, which is never visible by day."

"But we have neither hammer, chisel, nor crowbar," said I; "and our fingers, I fear, won't avail us much."

Hislop threw the bridle of his horse over a laurel-bush; I did the same; and in a few minutes we had climbed to the spot indicated by the chalk mark; and there also we found the conical bullet of his Enfield rifle, flattened out like a florin, and adhering to the face of the rock.

For nearly twenty minutes we examined all the locality of these marks, and at last I discovered something that appeared to be a dull gray piece of rock crystal, half sunk and half projecting from the face of the basalt, and led Hislop to it.

Uttering an exclamation of joy, he declared that, beyond a doubt, it was the diamond!

We were almost breathless at this sudden discovery, and looked about us on every hand, like the perpetrators of a robbery, lest we might be observed; but, except our horses cropping the grass, and the golden canary birds that sang on every twig and tree, there appeared no living thing on the mountain above or in the ravine beneath us.

But how were we to extract our treasure, if a treasure indeed it was?

Vainly we used our knives, till the blades bent and broke; vainly we punched it with the butts and ramrods of our rifles. It remained solid, hard, fast, and immovable.

Hislop's aim had been a true one, under the circumstances, for the crystal was situated just three inches from his shot-mark.

At last he, being fertile in resources, on finding a sloping rent in the rock, about eight inches above the object of our solicitude bethought him of blowing it out by gunpowder.

All our cartridges, about thirty in number, were at once opened, and their contents rammed hard or pounded in, with a piece of stick and a stone in lieu of a mallet. The rent was small, and seemed about a foot deep. This impromptu mining was a laborious affair, for it required to be carefully done, and occupied more than two hours, as we had to plug up the aperture tightly, leaving only a very small touchhole.

When all was complete, some cigar fusees and wetted powder were prepared together as a slow-match; they were inserted and a light applied.

"Sheer off, Dick,—give it a wide berth!" cried Hislop.

The fusee smoked as it consumed, but slowly, and breathlessly we looked on, at ten yards' distance.

It seemed to die out, for the smoking ceased, and the last puff, after curling among the green trailers passed away.

Hislop was about to ascend and to examine the powder, when there was a loud and sharp explosion; a little cloud of dust rose, and disengaged from the cliff some fragments of rock, six in number, about the size of half bricks, fell on the bank below.

Uttering a shout, we rushed down, and in a moment Hislop found the diamond adhering to a piece of stone larger than itself!

Some time elapsed before we could fully realize our good fortune or believe in the wealth we had so suddenly acquired.

It seemed like a mere lump of rock crystal, but larger than a goose-egg, and not unlike the Koh-i-Noor—the fabled Light of the World—that mysterious palladium of the destinies of India, before it was cut, polished, and in some degree mutilated, that it might figure in the Exhibition of 1851—as ours may do, perhaps, in that of 1871.

Time will show.

If a pure diamond, this stone was worth nearly seventy thousand pounds!

"Let us keep our own counsel, Dick, about this, till we find ourselves in London," said Hislop, as he consigned it to his breast-pocket, together with the piece of stone which adhered to it; "and now we must make a good offing while all is quiet here."

In a minute more, and just as a group of horsemen—farmers and sugar-millers—entered the valley, we had mounted, and were galloping toward Santa Cruz as fast as our horses' heels could carry us.*

* By a note from Hislop, he informs me that the idea of marking with a chalk bullet the locality of the diamond was given him by an old Scottish legend which he heard, of a precious stone, of great size, that shone, but by night only, amid the rocks on the beautiful hill of Kinnoul. There it had long tantalized the citizens of Perth, till an ingenious fellow fired a ball of camstone at it, and by thus marking the place picked the gem out at his leisure.

CHAPTER LIII.

THE LAST OF ANTONIO EL CUBANO.

As we entered Santa Cruz we found a great crowd of colonists, citizens, mulattoes, Creoles, and negroes, all in motley and gaudily-striped linen jackets and trousers, assembled in the Plaza, where a guard of Spanish infantry, with muskets shouldered and bayonets fixed, kept back the people in the form of a hollow square, about a raised wooden platform, which was covered with black cloth, and whereon was placed the garotte.

"What is all this about?" we asked.

"It is for the execution of Antonio, a Cuban pirate, who is to die by the garotte," replied a soldier.

This instrument of the law was simply an upright wooden post rising from the platform. At its base was a low stool, on which the condemned are seated; and about three feet above that appears an iron ring with a handle and screw, by the compression of which they are strangled, instantly or slowly, according to sentence.

The crowd was very impatient; the hour at which the grim scene was to have taken place was now long past. Loud murmurs rose from the people, who had heard most exaggerated stories of Antonio's stature, strength, and ferocity, and glances of anger and impatience were darted at the gilt dial of the town-house, on which a black banner was hoisted but half-mast high.

We recognized nearly all the crew of the San Ildefonso in front of the mob; and there, too, were a number of British sailors of H.M.'s steam sloop-of-war Active, which had anchored in the harbor that morning.

Several priests in long gray robes were hurrying to and fro, begging a "peseta" to pay for masses for the soul of the condemned man.

As neither Hislop nor I had any desire to witness a scene so barbarous and revolting as an execution, we hastened to our posada to breakfast, where we were joined by Captain José Estremera, who had just come from the Castle of Santa Cruz, where the culprit was confined, and where a most extraordinary scene had taken place.

The little Spanish skipper was quite excited; his black eyes were round as saucers; his olive cheek was flushed crimson; and he spoke so fast and said so much that he nearly choked himself over his eggs and scalding-hot coffee.

His narrative was as follows, and it presented a singular instance of mad ferocity, of cowardice, and despair.

In the morning, probably about the same time that Hislop and I were busy with our diamond, the bastonero, or turnkey, of the Castle of Santa Cruz, which is at once a prison, a barrack, and fortress, opened the door of Antonio's cell to announce to him, in the usual form, that Senor the Judge of the First Instance, accompanied by an Escribano of the Court, had arrived to read over his sentence again, and to convey him to the Chapel of the Doomed, where Fra Anselmo would confer and pray with him prior to his execution.

On entering, the bastonero found Antonio whistling cheerfully, and deliberately using a sharp file, which he had procured no one knew how, but with the aid of which, he had released one of his ankles from the fetterlocks, by which his feet had been secured to a ponderous iron bar that traversed his cell. But though still held fast by one leg, he flung himself bodily, like a wild animal, on the unsuspecting bastonero, tore the heavy keys from his leather girdle, and after dealing him a deadly blow on the head, dashed him, bleeding and senseless, against the wall outside the cell door.

He then closed the latter, locked it on the inside, and resumed the use of the file, which was heard rasping on the steel, while he sang his favorite "Companero, companero," &c.

Aware that the crowd were waiting in the Plaza, and that Spanish crowds were not to be trifled with, in vain did the commandant of the Castle of Santa Cruz, the judge, the escribano, and Fra Anselmo entreat Antonio to cease his fruitless resistance, as his fate was sealed now beyond the reach of pardon even from the captain-general.

Resolved to die as he had lived, like a tiger, Antonio fiercely refused.

The priest next implored him to pass the keys through the iron grating in the cell door.

He uttered a shout of laughter.

The armorer of the castle was now summoned to force the lock; but the mechanism of it resisted all his strength and skill. Senor the commandant was furious!

The pioneers of the garrison were next ordered in with their iron crowbars and sledge-hammers to beat down the door.

It was small but enormously thick, being built of bars of oak and iron bolted together, and curiously inserted in a groove formed in the massive wall of the old castle.

For an hour they toiled at it, and in the intervals of their labor the sound of Antonio's file was heard at work, together with his maledictions, his songs, and fierce derisive laughter.

"Ho! ho! my fine fellow," said the Commandant, rattling his sabre, "we shall soon see the end of this fine game!"

At last the door fell in fragments, but unfortunately one strong iron bar still remained across the aperture; the daylight streamed into the vault, and now, like a baited wild beast, Antonio, who was still fettered to the iron bar, dragged himself toward the doorway, armed with the large key, which was about a foot long.

When another bastonero attempted to enter by stooping, a blow from the key fell like a thunderbolt upon his defenceless head, and he was dragged out by the heels, apparently in a dying state.

Several others who ventured in met with the same fate; the whole place became splashed with blood; the consternation increased, and the authorities were at their wits' end, for the doorway was so small that one person alone could enter at a time, and then only when stooping low,—a position which placed them completely at the mercy of Antonio.

For another hour did that frenzied ruffian keep all at bay, replying to the threats of the Commandant, the entreaties of Fra Anselmo, and the suave legal rhetoric of the Judge of the First Instance with laughter and derision.

Tired at last of wielding his large key, or finding that none would come within reach of it, he flung it at the group outside, and broke the nether jaw of the escribano, who left the field of battle with great precipitation.

The commandant now summoned a party of soldiers, and twelve men of the castle guard came, under the orders of the lieutenant, Don Luiz Pineda, who at once ordered them to load with ball-cartridge.

On seeing these dire preparations, which he could no longer withstand, Antonio ceased in his untimely ribaldry. Great drops of perspiration poured over his low but narrow temples. His dark brow was furrowed deeper, as if by baffled rage and futile ferocity; his black eyes glistened with a fearful glare, and his vast bulky form seemed to dilate in muscular strength and size; the blue pallor of death passed over his thin and cruel lips, but still they were writhed by a mocking smile.

"Senor Don Luiz," said Fra Anselmo, "I entreat you not to have him shot dead——"

"What then, Senor Padre?"

"But merely wounded, that he may have time for repentance."

"Buena,—then wounded he shall be."

At that moment Antonio struck the young lieutenant on the face, by hurling the file at him, and inflicted a severe wound.

"Fire!" cried Pineda, mad with rage.

A musket was levelled and fired; and while the vaults of the castle rang with a hundred echoes the loud laugh of Antonio was heard. He had crawled along the iron bar into a dark corner of his prison, where, coiled up at the extreme length of his chain, he escaped the bullet, which was flattened on the masonry.

Again and again the soldiers fired in succession, but missed him, and the vault became full of smoke.

"Basta!" said they; "what is the use of wasting powder on a picaroon who is bullet-proof?"

Pineda now took a musket, and aiming very deliberately, fired. Then Antonio's chain was heard to rattle as he sprang from the iron bar with a wild bound, for the ball had broken his right thigh-bone.

Now he howled, bellowed, and literally foamed at the mouth, as he rolled about on the floor, encumbered by his iron chain, his broken leg, and fettered foot. Two other shots were fired; by one an arm was broken, and by the other a collar-bone. On this he lay still, and called out in a husky voice,—

"Senores, I surrender—have mercy!"

Then the pioneers rushed in and dragged him out. But the spirit of the fiend was yet strong within him, for as he was borne past Don Luiz, bleeding from three wounds, he clenched the hand which yet retained power, and struck him a violent blow.

On that instant the sword of the fiery young lieutenant would have been passed through his heart, had not Fra Anselmo arrested the blade by grasping it.

Just as José Estremera had reached this point in his narrative of the morning's proceedings, we heard a tremendous hubbub, and on hurrying to the front windows of the posada, saw a vast crowd running after a low hurdle that was drawn by two mules past the end of the street which led straight toward the great Plaza.

It bore the miserable and half-dead form of Antonio el Cubano to the final scene of his crimes and recent sufferings,—the garotte.

So perished this sinner!

CHAPTER LIV.

CONCLUSION.

I have but little more to add, for with this last episode the course of wild adventures upon which I had been so strangely hurried, nearly closes.

A few hours after the death of Antonio, when Hislop and I, with Lambourne, Carlton, and other survivors of the Eugenie were waiting in the office of the British Consul to make some arrangements for rewarding José Estremera for his great kindness to us all, we met Captain the Hon. Egerton B——, of H.M. ship Active, who was so struck with our story that he offered us all a passage to England, an offer which we accepted with gratitude.

His ship was leaving the African squadron, and returning home to be repaired.

"Rodney—Rodney," said he, ponderingly, when the Consul introduced me; "you ought to have been a sailor, for your name is well known in the service;" and his words brought the memory of my poor mother's ambition back to me, and I thought of the old picture which hung in the dining-room at home.

After a brief conference with his shipmates Tattooed Tom now came forward, and twirling his fragment of a hat, said that "if the noble captain had no objection, as he, Ned Carlton, Probart, and the other poor fellows of the Eugenie were out of a berth, and at uncommon low water, they would gladly ship aboard the Active, and enter her Majesty's service."

Captain B——, who saw at a glance that they were all first-class seamen, readily accepted the offer, and promised them the usual bounty; on which they gave three loud cheers for the Queen, and it came from their throats not the less heartily that they were far away from her and in a foreign land, all tattered as they were, with scarcely a shirt to their backs.

"Heaven bless you, my lads," said Hislop; "this is the best thing you can do; and believe me, Captain B——, you will find my old shipmates neither waisters nor green-hands, but thorough A.B.'s."

As they all loved him, another cheer for Hislop followed, and while the captain went off to the Active in his gig, we all adjourned to a posada to have a last friendly glass together.

Soon after, as the war steamer was to sail that evening, a boat under a midshipman came off for us, and then we bade farewell to José Estremera, to his mate, Manuel Gautier, to Fra Anselmo, and the old Governor of Surabaya.

"Come, Dick—we have no time to lose," said Hislop; "let us be off to the ship while daylight lasts; these fellows in Teneriffe haven't missed their diamond yet!"

I shall never forget my emotions of joy when the boat with Hislop and the rest of us came sheering alongside the Active.

She was so clean, so trig, so square aloft; with the bright copper gleaming in the water below; her black bulwarks and red portholes, through which her sixty-eights and thirty-twos peered above the brine; the snow-white hammock cloths, with the gold epaulets of the lieutenant of the watch glittering above them; the red-coated marines on her poop and forecastle; the great scarlet ensign of "Old England" floating at the gaff-peak:—and that no part of the illusion might be wanting, a little marine fifer, playing shrilly but sweetly "Home, sweet home," in one of the boats that lay alongside by the guess-warp boom.

She was so thoroughly British in her aspect, so unlike any thing we had seen in the seas we had traversed, that we felt at home the moment our feet were on her deck of good old English oak—ay, as much at home as if we stood upon the chalky South Foreland, and saw the green hop-fields of fertile Kent at our feet, with the gray towers of Dover and the white spires of Deal in the distance. Old Lambourne uttered a shout, and pointed to the Union Jack.

One must be abroad and far away to feel to the full the emotions that are excited, and the confidence which is inspired on seeing the old flag, that has swept every sea and shore, waving in its pride from the gaff-peak of a British man-of-war!

It is then that we feel "what a sway one little island has exercised over this mighty earth."

Hislop and I dined with Captain B——, who was anxious to hear our story in detail.

Our shipmates were told off to their several divisions, and we were placed in the ward-room mess for the remainder of the voyage.

We sailed that night, and under steam and canvas, as we bore away to the north, we soon saw the Peak of Adam sinking into the dark blue sea.

"Adieu to the Canaries," said Hislop, waving his hat; "the next shore we see will be Europe,—the white cliffs of Old England, perhaps."

But next day we sighted the great pitons of the Salvage Islands, a group of uninhabited rocks which are claimed by the Portuguese (perhaps because no one else cares about them), and which are surrounded by dangerous shoals. One of these isles closely resembles the fantastic rocks of the Needles, at the west end of the Isle of Wight.

On the Salvages the canary birds are so numerous, that an old voyager says, "it is impossible to walk without crushing their eggs."

We touched at Madeira, and after a delightful voyage of about sixteen days, ran up the Channel, and came to anchor in the Downs on the 20th of October.

* * * * *

I had been absent from home more than a year, when I found myself in London—in mighty London, with its dark forests of masts and its darker cathedral dome, that meets the eye from every point of view:—a wondrous and bewildering change, after traversing so long the wide and lonely sea!

With a heart swollen by anxiety to learn tidings of my father, my mother, and sisters, I reached the counting-house of my uncle's firm, Rodney and Co., in the city, but there was something so peculiar in my aspect, which pertained neither to sea nor shore, and was unmistakably outlandish, that old John Thomas, the porter, seemed inclined to shut the door in my face.

A short explanation, however, soon overcame his scruples, and I was then admitted.

My uncle was at Erlesmere; but his head clerk assured me that my family were all well, though they had long since given me up for dead, as a handsome (he assured me it was very handsome) white marble tablet erected to my memory in the Rectory church remained to testify.

My letters from Cuba had never reached home!

As I had no desire to shock my parents by a sudden surprise, a telegram preceded me, and in less than an hour I was off by the express-train for Erlesmere. But with all its speed, the express seemed too slow for me. Marc Hislop accompanied me until he could get a ship; but before looking for that he meant to visit his old mother, who lived somewhere in Scotland.

After all that we had undergone, all that I had to show my family were the sword and old book found in the water-logged brig, the creese of a mutinous Lascar, the ring given me by the Governor of Surabaya, and though mentioned last not esteemed the least, our diamond, of which Marc Hislop and I have not yet ascertained the value, or I should rather say its proper claim to the designation of a diamond.

For Marc Hislop's sake, more than my own, I trust that our sanguine expectations may be realized, and that it may, at all events, furnish him, out of his share of the prize, with the means of providing comfortably for the mother who so admirably trained him up to a love of knowledge and to a sense of duty.

I have now realized the truth of Goethe's maxim: "He that looks forward sees one way to pursue; but he who looks backward sees many."

And so, tempered by a year of adversity, enlightened by its experience and suffering, I have returned, more than ever determined to make up for lost time, and to work my way manfully to King's College, Cambridge; after which, the reader who has accompanied me so far, may perhaps hear of me again.

THE END.