De Gourgues gave the word. Cazenove with thirty men pushed forward to the Fort gate while the main body of us under De Gourgues ran at full speed for the glacis. We were not discovered until we were well up the slope, when a cannoneer who had come upon the rampart sent up a startled cry. “To arms! To arms! The French are coming! The French are coming!” The Spaniards had just finished their morning meal and came rushing up, fastening on their steel-pieces. The gunner who had given the alarm, hastily aiming his cannon at us, fired wildly and the ball went crashing into the thicket. He had time even to load and fire again before Olotoraca, who had outstripped the others, ran up the glacis, leaped the unfinished ditch and drove his pike through the Spaniard from breast to back, pinning him to the gun-carriage. Some of the Frenchmen were by his side in a “After me,” shouted Cazenove from the gate. “They fly by this way. At their throats, mes garÇons, cut them down!” De Gourgues turned the rest of his men in that direction. The Spaniards were caught between two fires and all of those who had escaped from the Fort were imprisoned between our party and that of Cazenove. The Indians too came thrusting upon their flanks. Many of them fought desperately, but their efforts were futile against the whirlwind of passion of the Frenchmen who beat them to the earth like chaff. All except a few were killed upon the spot. Those who were spared were saved by the Avenger for a more inglorious end. During all this time we had been aware that the Spaniards in the fort upon the other shore had taken alarm and were firing upon us without ceasing. But when the first victory had been won De Gourgues turned four of the captured cannon against them; and to such good purpose that one of the Spanish guns ceased firing at once, the men running below in dismay. Then one of the boats, a very large barge which by this time had arrived along-shore, was brought to the landing-place and eighty of us were crowded into it. The river here is about a I did not know De Gourgues in the character of blood-letter. He had lost that cheeriness and buoyancy that had drawn me so closely to him. Upon his face he wore a look of satisfaction that was a horror to see. For, vengeance done, a man with any shred of compassion in him must now and then give vent to some expression to show that his devil craves “A good line shot, me friend, but most indifferent elevation. When ye wish to strike home, aim high me garlic eater, aim high! An’ ’tis no cursed bad advice for a man about stepping across the threshold of eternity!” As for me, all this slaughter turned my stomach and I sat apart, for I had come out for no such business as this; I wanted the butchery speedily over, and the attack on San Mateo made immediately. Should we be successful there, I knew that other But De Gourgues had deferred the attack upon San Mateo until his preparations could be carefully finished. All the next day we spent in making ladders to scale the walls; sending orders through Satouriona and Olotoraca to the Indians, giving them their stations in the forest and arranging that no movement should be made until a signal was given. So closely had Satouriona and Tacatacourou On the evening of the second day after the first assault, De Gourgues, well pleased and confident that his plans were carefully laid, gave orders that the Indians should close in upon the fort with all possible secrecy and lie in wait under the shadows of the trees De BaÇan apparently had by this time lost all trace of our whereabouts. Thinking we had defiled by the river bank, in a moment he sent a strong party of Spaniards to reconnoitre. They came from their works, crossing the ditch and, all unconscious, made straight for the clump of woods in which we lay ensconced. De Gourgues, noting the advantage of his Now it was that the discipline of the arquebusiers of De Gourgues showed to greatest advantage. He had cautioned them under pain of dire punishment not to fire before the word of command. In their ardor they strained forward eagerly, leaning upon their rests, their eyes glancing down their weapons, their fingers toying lovingly with their match cords. But not until the Spaniards had come so near that we could plainly make out their features did the Avenger give the order to fire. Then a deadly blaze flashed in their faces, almost close enough to burn them. The shock was terrific; and before its echoes had rumbled up the river we were upon them through the smoke, slashing and piercing right and left those who stood their ground, driving those who ran, in dire confusion, back toward the Fort. But here Cazenove awaited them and poured in a scorching fire at easy range which still further cut them down. None escaped. The pikemen of Cazenove charged over them again and again like demons, and those few who were left threw down The fight was speedily over, with no loss to us. When we had mounted the hill again, it was easy to see that consternation reigned in the Fort. Soldiers ran here and there upon the battlements shouting in confusion; while men, women and children, uttering piercing screams, rushed to the gate, battering upon it with their bare fists, trying to force their way out that they might escape to the forest. The trumpet of Dariol, sounding the charge, rang out clear above the din. Never before, it seemed to me, had a battle-blast been sent up so loud and exultant. It was the signal of De Gourgues. Through thicket and scrub, down the hill for the Fort, we ran, a very human mounthsoun, shouting like madmen. Every stump and tree to the right and left of us seemed to turn by some magic into a painted savage and the air was filled with their wild screams. De Gourgues, Olotoraca and I reached the gate at the same moment, followed closely by the more speedy of the rest. By this time the women and children were running through the postern, screaming, to the forest. Their fate I like not to think of. We were after more sturdy game. Most of the soldiers had fled even before the women, but we saw forty or fifty Spanish arquebusiers formed in the It seemed as though the affair were to be ended one way or the other then and there. But as luck would have it, Olotoraca, being more swift of foot, reached him first and began thrusting with his pike. De BaÇan was thus put upon his guard against the Indian and had all that he could do to parry his furious onslaught. Twice his guard lay open and I might have thrust him clear through the body, but I could not bring myself to take such advantage. A nimble fellow rushed at me and all but caught me off my guard, giving me trouble for some minutes. He was a most excellent swordsman and fought with desperation. But he tired easily, and while I played upon the defensive, I watched De BaÇan and Olotoraca out of the tail of my eye. By this time the sword of the Spaniard was hissing backward and forward like the tongue of a serpent along the pike of Olotoraca. The Indian had not the skill of a seasoned pikeman and only made up for his lack of knowledge of the art by his great suppleness and agility. Suddenly I saw him lunge too far. I beat Men were fighting all around us, but by some chance we were quite alone in the shadow of the Corps-de-garde. “You might have killed me,” he panted—glancing this way and that,—“why did you not?” “We are quits then. But it is not too late, SeÑor de BaÇan. On guard!” Still looking furtively around, he made no motion to raise his bloody point from the ground, but kept edging away. “Quick, sir! On guard!” I cried, “or I will run you through!” He made a sudden leap backward and vanished quickly around the corner of the building, passing several Frenchmen, and in the confusion reached the battlements before I could stop him, and with a laugh sprang out into space. Without so much as looking, I leaped after him into the mud and water of the river bank. I landed fair up to my knees and fell over in the water. For a moment I thought “Again! SeÑor Pirato,” he sneered, with a kind of a laugh. “For the last time,—SeÑor Spaniard!” I said approaching. “For the last time? Ah! then you do grant I am the better skilled at sword-play?” “Let us settle the matter at once,” said I, bringing my point into line. “One moment!” he said craftily. “When I kill you, what will become of Mademoiselle?” I saw his object. He sought to unsteady my nerves. But I only laughed at him. “Mademoiselle is in the hands of her friends, SeÑor.—Come now! Enough! You have your wind. Fall to, or I will run you through!” I threw off my morion to keep my brow cool. And while in the very act of tossing it aside he leaped for me, engaging with such incomparable swiftness that I broke ground and gave back ten—twenty paces—under his fierce assault. I held my own with great trouble. But he saw no sign of it, upon my face and it is my pride that I ever looked coldly in his eyes, fearless and confident. Once he grazed my arm and with flashing eye sprang forward to follow his advantage; but I met him with so shrewd a guard and thrust that he drew back, looking at me in surprise. We heard indistinctly the cries of the soldiers and the Indians at the fort, and now and then a wild yell would start the echoes in the forest near us. But we fought on, our eyes looking into each other’s, glittering and more piercing even than the swords we wielded. Shouting was now most plainly to be heard in the direction from which we had come. I heard Job Goddard’s whistle and a cheery cry. “Keep him at work, sir! we are with you in a minute!” Diego’s eyes looked over my shoulder. “Unless you hurry, Don Diego,” I said, coolly I knew could I get him angry that I might have the better advantage. “Bah!” he cried, furious. “Coward! you cannot fight your battles for yourself!” “I am holding my own!” I smiled. I know not just why it was, but strive as he might, he could get no advantage. I have no memory of ever having used my sword so well. Quick as he was, my hand was ever quicker and my eye seemed by the look of his own to divine his thrust before he made it. The sounds of the voices grew louder and louder each moment and seemed to be near the edge of the wood. The look in the eyes of De BaÇan became uncertain. He had tried upon me every feint and thrust he knew, and there I still stood before him smiling and confident. It was not fear that he felt, for I believe the man feared nothing on earth—or above it—or below. It was an expression rather of wonder and curiosity as if at the last he saw in me the image of vengeance come to bring him, in spite of his prowess, the retribution he so amply deserved. Twice he had had me in his power, my death hanging by a web so fine that he could have blasted it by the breath from his lips,—and still I lived. All of this I saw in his look. I smiled at him again, and that infuriated him the more. Scorning all thought of defense, he crouched his head and came for me desperately—his feints and thrusts were quicker than thought itself, and my eye, bewildered, could no longer follow the motions. He caught the point of my blade near the hilt of his own, and with a quick back stroke of the wrist sent it flying down, the handle almost out of my fingers. I clutched it again, bringing it up to the guard. But he had sprung in and thrust me through the thigh. At this moment there was an outcry upon our left, and De BrÉsac, with some of my seamen, came running forward. “Good-by, Sir Pirato!” laughed De BaÇan. “I have no time to finish this——” and turning, he made for the opposite side of the clearing. I shouted at the top of my lungs and made a leap after him, but fell prone to the earth. He made for a hole in the thicket, and I thought must surely go free. But while I looked, a number of dusky figures sprang up all around him, and I saw them leap upon him like hounds upon a stag. He threw his arms out wildly, and one of the savages who bounded into the air, was skewered upon his sword, while another fell away from him into the bushes as though he had been tossed by an ox. The Spaniard was making a When he had fallen the savages fell upon the prostrate body like wolves, tearing at the clothing, and would have beaten him with their war clubs as he lay, had not De BrÉsac and Satouriona come up. I cried out to them that it was the Commandante of the Fort whom they had killed. De BrÉsac was among them, striking with the flat of his sword, and crying: “Stop! you dogs! Away with you! Stop! I say!” He stood over the body with his drawn sword while they glowered at him, and would have struck him down had not Satouriona come between. It was a dog’s death for so valiant a man—pulled down like some wild beast of the forest. When I had been carried to where the body lay, De BrÉsac and I vowed he should have a decent burial. I hated him, and hate him now. But it was a passion made great by the intensity of it, and I could not bear that the majesty of his prowess should be dimmed by any ignominy at his death. De BrÉsac, fearing to bury him in the knowledge of the Indians, gave orders to the seamen that he should be taken to Fort San Mateo. When I had bound up my leg, thither we presently repaired, I leaning upon the arms of Job Goddard and BrÉsac. |