  Produced by Al Haines. [image] Cover [image] "HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP." p. 12 CARRIED OFF A STORY OF PIRATE TIMES BY AUTHOR OF 'FOR HALF-A-CROWN' 'THE LAST HOPE' WITH FOUR FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON TO I dedicate this story, knowing they are already fond of travelling. They may be glad to hear that the chief events in it are true, and are taken out of an old book written more than two hundred years ago. Yet they may now safely visit the West Indies without fear of being made prisoners by the much dreaded Buccaneers. E.S. [All rights reserved] CONTENTS CHAPTER
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. CARRIED OFF. CHAPTER I. THE SACRIFICE. It was a beautiful warm spring evening, and as the sun sank slowly in the west it illuminated with quivering golden light the calm waters that surrounded green, marshy Canvey Island, which lies opposite South Benfleet, in the estuary of the Thames. Harry Fenn had just come out of church, and, as was often his wont, he ran up a slight hill, and, shading his eyes, looked intently out towards Canvey and then yet more to his left, where Father Thames clasps hands with the ocean. The eminence on which young fair-haired Harry stood was the site of a strong castle, built long ago by HÆsten, the Danish rover, in which he stowed away Saxon spoil and Saxon prisoners, till King Alfred came down upon him, pulled down the rover's fortress, seized his wife and his two sons, and relieved the neighbourhood of this Danish scourge. How often, indeed, had the peaceful inhabitants trembled at the sight of the sea robber's narrow war-vessels creeping up the creek in search of plunder! Harry, however, was not thinking of those ancient days; his whole soul and mind was in the present, in vague longings for action; full, too, of young inquisitiveness as to the future, especially his own future, so that he forgot why he had come to this spot, and did not even hear the approach of the Rev. Mr. Aylett, who, having been listening to a tale of distress from one of his parishioners at the end of the evening service, had now come to enjoy the view from HÆsten's hill. As he walked slowly towards the immovable form of the boy, he could not help being struck by the lad's graceful outline; the lithe, yet strongly built figure, the well-balanced head, now thrown back as the eyes sought the distant horizon; whilst the curly fair locks appeared to have been dashed impatiently aside, and now were just slightly lifted by the evening breeze; for Harry Fenn held his cap in his hand as he folded his arms across his chest. He might have stood for the model of a young Apollo had any artist been by, but art and artists were unknown things in South Benfleet at that time. Mr. Aylett shook his head as he walked towards the lad, even though a smile of pleasure parted his lips as he noted the comeliness of his young parishioner, whom he now addressed. 'Well, Harry, my boy, what may be the thoughts which are keeping you so unusually still?' Harry started and blushed like a girl, and yet his action was simple enough. 'Indeed, sir, I did not hear you. I--I came here to have a look at our cows down on the marsh. Father----' Mr. Aylett laughed good-humouredly. 'Am I to believe that that earnest look is all on account of the cattle, Harry?' Harry felt at this moment as if he had told a lie, and had been found out by Mr. Aylett, who was so good and clever that he could almost, nay, sometimes did, tell one's thoughts. 'No, sir;' then, with a winning smile, the lad added, 'in truth I had forgotten all about the cattle. I was dreaming of----' 'Of the future, Harry. Listen, did not those same thoughts run thus? That it is dull work staying at home on the farm; that some of thy relations in past days had famous times in our civil wars, and went to battle and fought for the King, and that some even had been settlers in the old days of Queen Bess, and that, when all is said and done, it wants a great deal of self-denial to stay as thou art now doing, cheering the declining years of thy good father and mother. Some such thought I fancied I could read in your face, boy, when singing in the choir just now. Was it so? I would have you use candour with me.' Harry turned his cap round and round slowly in his hands. Mr. Aylett was certainly a diviner of thoughts; but Harry was far too honest, and of too good principle, to deny the truth. It was his honesty, as well as his pluck and courage, that made him so dear to the clergyman, who had taught the boy a great deal more learning than usually fell to the lot of a yeoman's son in those days, even though Mr. Fenn farmed his own land, was well-to-do, and could, had he so willed, have sent his son to Oxford; but he himself had been reared on Pitsea Farm, had married there, and there he had watched his little ones carried to the grave, all but Harry. Yes, Harry was his all, his mother's darling, his father's pride; the parson was welcome to teach him his duty to his Church, his King and his country, and what more he liked, but no one must part the yeoman from his only child. And Harry knew this, and yet often and often his soul was moved with that terribly strong desire for change and for a larger horizon, which, so long as the world lasts, will take possession of high-spirited boys. However, the lad was as good as he was brave; he knew that he must crush down his desire, or at least that he must not show it to his parents; but he did not try to resist the pleasure of indulging in thoughts of a larger life, thoughts which Mr. Aylett guessed very easily, but which would have made his father's hair stand on end. This evening Mr. Aylett's face looked so kind that Harry's boyish reserve gave way, and with rising colour he exclaimed: 'Oh, sir, I can't deny it; it is all true, that, and much more; just now I had such dreadful thoughts. I felt that I must go out yonder, away and away, and learn what the world is like; I felt that even father's sorrow and mother's tears would not grieve me much, and that I must break loose from here or die. I know it was wicked, and I will conquer the feeling, but it seems as if the devil himself tempts me to forget my duty; and worse,' added poor Harry, who having begun his confession thought he would make a clean breast of it, 'I feel as if I must go straight to my father and tell him I will not spend my life in minding cattle and seeing after the labourers, and that after telling him, I would work my way out into the big world without asking him for a penny. Sir, would that be possible?' Harry looked up with trembling eagerness, as if on this one frail chance of Mr. Aylett's agreement depended his life's happiness; but the clergyman did not give him a moment's hope. 'No, Harry, that is not possible, my lad. You are an only child. On you depends the happiness of your parents. This sacrifice is asked of you by God, and is it too hard a matter to give up your own will? Look you, my dear Harry, I am not over-blaming you, nor am I thinking that the crushing of this desire is not a difficult matter, but we who lived through the late troublous times see farther than young heads, who are easily persuaded to cozen their conscience according to their wishes. And if you travelled, Harry, temptations and trials would follow too, and be but troublesome companions; and further, there would be always a worm gnawing at your heart when you thought of the childless old folks at home. Believe me, Harry, even out in "the golden yonder," as some one calls it, you would not find what you expect; there would be no joy for you who had deprived those dependent on you of it. Take my advice, boy, wait for God's own good time, and do not fall into strong distemper of mind.' Mr. Aylett paused and put a kind hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry did not answer at once, but slowly his eyes turned away from the waters and the golden sun, slowly they were bent upon the marshes where the cattle were grazing, and then nearer yet to where Pitsea Manor Farm raised its head above a plantation of elms and oaks. Then a great struggle went on in the boy's mind; he remembered he was but sixteen years old, and that many a year must most likely elapse before he became the owner of Pitsea Farm and could do as he pleased, and that those years must be filled with dull routine labour, where little room was left for any adventure beyond fishing in the creek, or going over to Canvey Island to watch when the high waves broke over the new embankments made by Joas Croppenburg, the Dutchman, whose son still owned a third of the rich marshland of the island as a recompense for his father's sea walls. But young Joas used to tell tales of great Dutch sea fights and exploits, which, if Harry made the sacrifice Mr. Aylett was asking him to make, would but probe the wound of his desire, and so Croppenburg's stories must also be given up. Harry's courage, however, was not merely nominal, it was of the right sort. The sacrifice he was asked to make was none the less great because it was one not seen of men. He was to give up his will, the hardest thing a man or a boy can do; but it needed only Mr. Aylett's firm answer to show Harry that his duty was very plain, and that God required this of him. It was like taking a plunge into cold water, where it is the first resolution that is the worst part of the action; suddenly, with a quick lifting of his head, and a new hopeful light in his blue eyes very different from the unsatisfied longing gaze of ten minutes ago, Harry spoke, and as he did so his clenched hands and his whole demeanour told plainly that the boy meant what he said. 'I will give it up, sir; as it is, the wishing brings me no happiness, so I will even put the wishing to flight.' Mr. Aylett grasped the lad's hand warmly. 'God bless you, Harry, you are a brave fellow. I am proud of you. Come to me to-morrow, and I will show you a new book a friend has sent me; or, better, walk back with me to the Vicarage.' 'I would willingly, sir,' said Harry quietly, 'but father bade me go to the meadow and see if White Star should be driven in under shelter to-night. Our man Fiske has met with an accident, so I promised to see after White Star before sundown. She was a little sick this morning.' 'To-morrow will do well enough,' said Mr. Aylett, glad to see that Harry was beginning already to turn his mind steadily to home matters, 'and if you have time we will go to St. Catherine's Church on Canvey. There is a young clergyman come there to see if he will accept the cure, and I know you will row me over.' Harry promised gladly, and then Mr. Aylett with another shake of the hand turned his face homeward. When he was gone Harry flung himself on the ground to think over the promise he had just given. He would--yes, he would keep his word. CHAPTER II. CAPTURED. How long he lay there, Harry never could recollect afterwards, but feeling a chilliness creeping over him he suddenly remembered his duty. He must make haste, for the sun was setting, and if White Star did not seem to be better she must be led home from the damp marsh meadows that bordered the water. Though Harry was feeling intensely sad, he had a secret feeling of satisfaction at having conquered in a very hard struggle, and this perhaps made him look more at the things he was passing than, as he was wont to do, at the distant sea. This evening everything was calm and quiet, both on the darkening waters and on the green meadows. Harry noted a gate that needed repairing, and made up his mind to tell his father that it must be seen to, or the cattle would be straying; then he glanced at the little cart-horse foal that promised to be a rival of its mother. The Pitsea Farm cart-horses were deservedly famous, and Harry's father, George Fenn, was as good a breeder of horses as he was a staunch Churchman and opposed to the Puritan element only now quieting down. At last Harry reached the meadow where White Star was grazing and where some thirty sheep were sharing the pasture. He went up to examine the gentle creature, and she knew well enough the young master's voice and touch, so that she hardly stopped chewing the cud to give him a kindly stare. 'White Star seems not so bad,' thought Harry. 'I'll tell father to give her another day in the meadow, she is not too ill to enjoy this sweet grass.' Harry had been so much engaged in attending to White Star that he did not hear the soft splash of some oars at the bottom of the meadow he was in, nor did he see that four strong, rough-looking men in seafaring attire had quietly moored their long-boat to an old willow stump, and that two of them were hastily scanning the sheep and cattle that were only a few yards away. 'Zounds!' muttered the first who stepped up the bank, 'what have we here? a lad in this very field. I'faith, I saw no one from the creek.' 'A mere sapling,' laughed the other, 'take no heed of him, and he will soon take to his heels at the sight of us. Now, quick's the word, the captain is impatient to be off with the tide.' In another instant the men had begun their work. They had come for the purpose of carrying off some sheep and cattle, and having waited till this late hour they had not expected to find a witness to their robbery. Quietly and stealthily as they had landed, however, their intentions could not be carried out without some disturbance, and Harry was first made aware of their presence by the sudden helter-skelter of the sheep and the immediate curiosity expressed by poor White Star, whose evening meal was to be so violently disturbed. In a moment more Harry had seized the situation, which indeed it was not difficult to do, as he now beheld one of his father's sheep suddenly captured by the clever expedient of an extemporised lasso, and when the poor animal had been dragged towards its captor the robber made short work of tying his victim's legs together, and leaving it to bleat beside him whilst he proceeded to capture another in the same manner, before dragging them to the long-boat. All the fierce courage of the hardy yeoman's son rose to its height as he beheld this daring robbery carried on under his very eyes. Nay, when the strongest and foremost man began unconcernedly to make his way towards White Star herself, the boy's indignation knew no bounds. 'How now?' he cried indignantly. 'What do you mean, you rascals, by coming here? this is our field and our cattle; away at once, and unloose the sheep, or, by'r laykin! it will be worse for you. I will call for help, and you will soon be treated in such a manner as you deserve.' This fierce speech had not, however, the desired effect. The man laughed ironically as if Harry were a mere baby, and approaching White Star he swiftly threw the lasso over the animal's sleek head. 'Out of the way, young blusterer, or it will be the worse for thee. Our master, the captain, requires these cattle to victual our ship before sailing; come, off with thee! and don't halloo all the breath out of thy body.' But Harry's blood was up. Enraged at the man's daring and effrontery, he seized a stout stick from the hedge-row and sprang upon the intruder with the fury of a young lion. He never considered the inequality of the struggle or the folly of his engaging single-handed with a ruffian of this description; he only thought of saving his father's property and avenging the insult. Nor were his well-directed blows mere make-believe, and as the man before him was suddenly aware of a sharp stinging pain across his forehead, he let go the lasso and sprang on to the boy with a fierce oath. [image] "HARRY'S BLOOD WAS UP" 'What, you young viper, you dare to strike me? Well, take that. Here, Jim, this way, bring the rope here; I'll teach this churl to bethump me.' As he spoke he wrenched away poor Harry's stick, and with a well-directed blow he laid the boy on the ground. Harry felt a terrible pain in his head, his brain seemed to reel; bright, blood-red flashes blotted out the familiar fields, and then with a groan of pain he stretched out his right arm to grasp at some support, after which he remembered no more. The man appealed to as Jim had now run up, and laughed as he saw Harry fall insensible on the dewy grass. 'Bravo! the lad fell in fair fight, Joseph; but i'fecks! who would have thought of seeing you engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with such a stripling? Hast done for him, comrade?' he added with curiosity, in which was mingled neither pity nor fear. And yet the sight of Harry Fenn might have softened even a hard heart, one would have thought, as he lay there in the twilight on the dewy grass, whilst a slow trickling line of red blood fell from his forehead over his fair curling hair. 'Here, make haste,' said the first man, whom his friend addressed as Coxon, 'the captain's orders were that we must lose no time; there'll be several more trips this evening, and he means to run down the Channel before morning.' 'Then we'd best not leave the lad here. What say you, Coxon, shall I despatch him for fear of his waking up and telling tales before we return?' Coxon looked down on the brave lad, and decided, he knew not why, to act more mercifully. 'Let him be, or wait--tie his legs and throw him in the long-boat; on our ship he'll tell no tales, and when we cast anchor we can drop him somewhere, or give him a seaman's burial if he's dead, for, to tell the truth, it was a good whack that I dealt him. Now, Jim, quick, for fear some of those land dolts come down upon us, and deafen us with their complaints.' After this quick certainly was the word. Harry was tied, much after the fashion of his own sheep, and cast with little ceremony into the long-boat; further booty was secured, till no more could be carried during this trip, and then, as silently as it had come, the boat was rowed swiftly down the creek till they reached their destination, namely, the good ship 'Scorpion,' a privateer bound for the West Indies, after having lately made a very successful bargain with the cargo it had safely brought home. How long Harry remained unconscious he never knew: when he came to himself it was some time before he could collect any sequence in his thoughts. He felt, however, that he was in a cramped and confined place, and so put out his hands to make more room, as it were, for his limbs; but he could give no explanation to himself of his whereabouts, though he half realised that the night air was blowing in his face, and that something like sea spray now and then seemed to be dashed on his head. His hands were free, but what of his legs? He experienced a sharp cutting pain above his ankles, and with some difficulty he reached down to the seat of pain with one of his hands. Yes, there was a rope tied round his legs; who had done this, and where was he? He remembered standing on HÆsten's mound looking longingly at the sea, and he also recalled Mr. Aylett's words and his own fierce struggle against his strong inclinations, and then--what had followed? Here for a long time his mind remained a blank, till a decided lurch forced the conviction upon him that he was certainly in a ship, not on the green marsh meadow at home. Home! He must make haste and get home; his father would wonder what kept him so long, it was quite dark; how anxious his fond mother would be. He must at once get rid of that horrid thing that prevented his rising, and he must run as fast as he could back to Pitsea Farm. But what of White Star? White Star, the meadow, the--the---- All at once the scene of his conflict flashed into his mind, and the awful truth burst upon him. He was a prisoner in some enemy's ship--or could it be in one of those dreadful privateers, whose ravages were often spoken of, and whom Mr. Aylett had said ought to be put down by Government with a firm hand? Ay, and those ruffians who had treated him with such brutality, they must be no other than some of those dreaded buccaneers, whose atrocities in the West Indies made the blood of peaceable people run cold, and wonder why God's judgments did not descend on all who abetted such crimes. Harry, as we know, was very brave, and yet he shuddered as the truth forced itself on his mind; it was not so much from a feeling of fear, but because, to the boy's weak, fevered brain, the terrible calamity that had overtaken him seemed to be, as it were, a punishment for his old and secret longings, and his discontent at the dull home life. Then followed a period of great mental pain for the boy, and after having vainly tried to free himself, he lay back utterly spent with the exertion, and with the feeling that perhaps he was reserved for worse tortures. Harry had heard many and many a terrible story of the doings of these buccaneers, who plundered, without distinction, the ships of all nations, and amassed treasures in the West Indies and the Spanish Main, and whose inhuman conduct to their prisoners was not much better than that experienced by the unfortunate Christian prisoners from the pirates of Algiers. Harry's courage was nearly giving way at these thoughts, and as no one was by to see him a few bitter tears rolled down his cheeks; but as he put up his hand to brush them away he suddenly felt ashamed of his weakness. 'God helping me,' thought he, 'whatever these rascals call themselves they shall not see me in tears, be the pretence never so great; it were a pretty story to take back to my father and good Mr. Aylett, that I was found weeping like a girl; but all the same I wish they would give me something to eat. In truth I could devour very willingly a sirloin of beef if it were offered me.' Hunger is but a melancholy companion, and as the time still passed on and no one came near him, though Harry could hear the tramp of feet above him distinctly enough, the boy began to fear he should be left to die of slow starvation; and though this idea was very fearful to a growing lad, yet he determined that even this suffering should not make him cry out, and, clenching his teeth together, he lay down again and tried to say a few mental prayers. Evidently he must have dozed off, for the next thing he remembered was the sound of a rough voice telling him to get up; at the same time the rope that tied his feet was hastily cut and he felt himself led along a dark passage and pushed up a hatchway, feeling too dazed and weak to notice anything till he was thrust through the door of a small cabin. By this time Harry's spirit had returned; he forgot his pain and his hunger, and, straightening himself, tried to wrench his arm away from the iron grasp of the sailor that led him. 'What right have you fellows to keep me prisoner here?' cried Harry. 'But as we are upon the high seas it's not likely I can escape, so you need not pinion me down in this fashion.' At this moment a tall, powerful, and very handsome man entered the cabin, and, hearing Harry's words, burst into a loud and cheerful laugh. 'What, Mings! is this the boy you spoke of? By my faith, you have caged a little eaglet! But we can soon cut his claws and stop his pretty prating. How now, boy: answer truly, and tell me thy name; for we are no lovers of ill-manners and insolence.' Harry Fenn had been struck dumb by the appearance of the new comer, so that he had ceased struggling with Mings, and now gazed at the courtly-looking man, whose whole bearing spoke of a certain rough refinement and assured courage, such as Harry had believed attainable only by a gentleman of birth and breeding. Evidently the man before him was the captain of the crew, but he was no mere rough sailor such as Harry had often seen at home; on the contrary, his dress was both rich and elegant; he wore his hair in flowing locks just below his neck; a cravat of muslin edged with rich lace was round his throat, and the ends of the bow hung over his thick doublet, which was embroidered in a running pattern. His scarf, thrown over one shoulder and tied at his waist, was heavy with gold embroidery and fringe, and the sword that dangled at his side was evidently of Spanish make, and richly chased. As to his countenance, the more Harry gazed the less he could believe this man had anything to do with the buccaneers of the West Indies he had heard so much about, for the Captain's expression was open, and even pleasant. His eyes were of a pale blue, shaded by soft and reddish eyebrows; his nose straight and well formed; and though his mouth was somewhat full and coarse, yet there was nothing bad-tempered about it; and the curling moustache and small tuft of hair on his chin reminded one of a jolly cavalier more than of a dreaded sea-captain. Yes, Harry fancied he might be mistaken, and that this gentleman was in truth a loyal captain of His Majesty's Navy, and that his own capture was all some terrible mistake. This idea gave him courage, and, shaking himself free from his jailor, he advanced boldly towards the handsome-looking man, who surely must be the soul of honour, and no enemy to the public. 'Oh, sir, I fancied I had fallen into the hands of evil men; but surely I am mistaken, and you will see justice done me. I am a yeoman's son. My name is Harry Fenn, and my father owns a farm at South Benfleet. I had but gone down to see after one of our cows who had been sick, when suddenly your men waylaid me when I defended our cattle, and used me in a brutish manner. Had they wanted to buy cattle, my father could have directed them to those willing to sell. I did but my duty in defending my father's property, and I doubt not that they gave you quite a wrong tale of my behaviour; but indeed, sir, it was not true, and though I have been treated very roughly I beg you to see justice done to me, and to have me landed on our English coast; for my parents will be sadly put about on account of my disappearance, and very solicitous about my safety.' Harry paused, expecting the handsome captain to express his regret at what had happened. Instead of this, his words were received with a loud laugh by Mings; and apparently they also much tickled the fancy of the Captain, for he joined in the merriment, though he looked with kindly eyes on the handsome youth, who, in spite of his being a good deal bespattered with mud and blood stains, was yet a very pleasant picture of a bold, fearless English boy. 'Thou art over-bold, young fellow,' said Mings when he had laughed heartily. 'Doubtless our captain will teach thee how to mind thy speech. Shall I stow the lad away, sir, in the hold? I take it he will come forth in a humbler frame of mind, and with less zeal for defending cattle.' 'Nay, Mings, leave him to me; such a home bird is an uncommon sight, and having fallen on deck for want of a stronger wing, he must needs stay aboard. Go and attend to the guns, and tell the watch to keep a sharp look-out for any strange sail, and I'll see to the boy.' Mings appeared a little sulky at this order, and took the opportunity of roughly grasping Harry's shoulder as he went by, with the remark: 'Keep a civil tongue in thy head, young scarecrow, or Captain Henry Morgan will soon teach thee to wag it less glibly. It would want but a small gun to blow thee back to the English shore if thou art so anxious to get back--eh, Captain?' The Captain frowned instead of answering, and Mings made off as quickly as possible; but by this time Harry had recovered from his surprise. 'Then it's true,' he said quickly; 'you are in truth the infamous Henry Morgan the buccaneer, whose name is a terror to all honest folk. I only hope one of His Majesty's men-of-war will give chase, and I will do all in my power to give information. It is a dastardly act that you have done, for you have stolen our property and allowed your men shamefully to ill-use me.' Harry never stayed to think how unwise his words were: he was so angry at having made a mistake and having fancied this courtly man was an honest gentleman, that he cared nothing at the moment about the consequences of his violent language; indeed, he was all the more furious when he noticed that Captain Morgan seemed only amused by his burst of indignation. 'Thou art a brave lad, and I like to see thy spirit. Tell me thy name. I wager it is an honest one.' 'Ay, truly. Harry Fenn is my name--an honest English yeoman's son, and one that will receive no favours from a buccaneer,' answered Harry, crossing his arms. 'Then thou art my namesake, lad, i' fecks! See, I'll forgive thy hasty words, and take thee for my godson. As for thy parents, well, they must take the chances of war as others do, for there can be no putting back to land now. We had to be very crafty to avoid a large three-decker of sixty-four guns that, I fancy, had scent of my poor frigate; but we ran up the French flag, and so got off; and now we are making a very fair journey towards Jamaica. Art hungry, lad? There's no use lying about thy stomach, for it's a hard taskmaster, and, now I come to think of it, no one has heeded thee or thy wants since the cutter put thee aboard.' Hunger was indeed a very hard taskmaster for at this moment Harry Fenn felt a dizziness which he could hardly control, and he half fell on a bench which was beside him, and against which he had been leaning. Captain Morgan continued: 'Come, Harry Fenn, you're a brave lad, and we'll strike a bargain. I've taken a fancy to you, my boy, and I'll try and protect you from the sailors. We are rough people at times, but not so bad as we're painted; so if you'll work like the rest, I'll warrant you good provender and as merry a life as we sea-folk know how to lead.' 'I will not work for such as you,' said Harry boldly; 'my father brought me up in honest ways. I would rather die than join hands with such men as your crew.' 'By my troth, boy, you are ignorant of our good deeds, I well see,' said Captain Morgan. 'Many of those in power are glad enough of our inroads on the Spanish Settlements, for those rogues get only their deserts if we make them discharge a little of their gold. Hast never heard of our worthy predecessors? The authorities were less squeamish in those days, and called the deeds of bold men by fine names, whereas now, in truth, it is convenient to dub us buccaneers. There was Sir Thomas Seymour, and before him there were fine doings by Clarke's squadron. By St. George, he was a lucky man! and after six weeks' cruise he brought back a prize of 50,000*l.* taken from the Spaniards. And how about Drake, Hawkins, and Cavendish? There were no ugly names hurled at them, and yet methinks they and we go much on the same lines. In truth we have done good service also against those rascally Dutch, and for that alone we deserve better treatment than we get.' Captain Morgan now noticed that Harry had become deadly pale, and, hastily rising, the buccaneer opened a locker and took from it a black bottle, the contents of which he poured into a glass. 'Here, lad, thou art faint; this will revive thy courage. But first swear that thou wilt be one of us.' Harry had eagerly stretched forth his hand to take the glass, but at these words he drew back. 'Nay, but I will not swear; if God wills, I can die, but I will not sully my father's name.' Captain Morgan frowned angrily, and, striding up to Harry, took hold of his arm with his left hand, and with his right seized the hilt of his sword as he exclaimed-- 'Swear, boy, or it will be worse for thee.' Harry Fenn made one last great effort and staggered to his feet; then with his right hand he struck the glass with as much strength as he possessed, and saw the red wine spurt out upon the floor and upon the Captain's doublet. 'God helping me, I will not swear,' he cried; but the words were barely audible, as he fell fainting on the floor. 'As brave a lad as I ever cast eyes on!' said the Captain, losing his stern expression, and, stooping down, he poured a few drops of the wine into Harry's mouth; then, calling for the cook, he bade him tend the boy till he should have regained his strength. 'Harry Fenn shall be under my protection,' said the Captain to himself, 'but in time he must be one of us.' CHAPTER III. A BEAUTIFUL ISLAND. It is the beginning of December 1670 in the beautiful little Island of St. Catherine, one of the West Indian Islands, which were at this time the rich treasure-house of most of the European nations, where Spaniards, French, English, and Dutch all hoped to make their fortunes in some way or other, and where, alas! the idle and good-for-nothing men of the Old World attempted by unlawful means to win fame and fortune, which, when achieved, as often as not brought them neither happiness nor profit. Though it is December, in St. Catherine there is nothing cold or disagreeable in the weather, and all around the beauty of the scene delights the eye. The mountains, though of no great height, are wooded with the loveliest tropical vegetation; the well-watered valleys are little Gardens of Eden; whilst in some portions, not yet cleared by either natives, Spaniards, or Englishmen, the original forests rise up like giants of nature whom no hand of man has laid low. In these forests are endless varieties of birds--parrots, pigeons, and hummingbirds of every colour. Here, too, can be found land-crabs which much resemble sea-crabs in shape and manner of walking; but instead of finding a home under rocks and boulders, these crabs burrow in the forests, and once a year form themselves into a regiment and march down to the sea-coast for the purpose of depositing their young in the waters. This regiment has only one line of march; it never diverges from it, but whatever comes in its way is climbed over--straight over it go the crabs; and such a noise they make that you can hear the clattering of their claws for a considerable distance. We must not now stop to describe this West Indian island, which is full of beauty and curious plants and trees; but if you come to the wood that leads to the great Spanish fortress of Santa Teresa, you will find a steep path through the luxurious forest, leading over a drawbridge to the castle. What a view can be seen from thence over the port! But it was not the view that the Governor's children were thinking of as they walked together in the garden which sloped down towards the sea, and which was especially reserved for the Governor and his family. Felipa del Campo was a tall dark girl of about fourteen years of age, but she looked older, and there was a sad expression on her face as she gazed up to her brother, a noble-looking fellow a year older, with the long, grave-looking countenance of the Spanish nobility. He was dressed, after the fashion of that time, in embroidered doublet, short velvet tunic, and trunk hose; whilst his well-shaped limbs were displayed to perfection in silk stockings. His shoes had buckles set with diamonds, and his tall Spanish hat was plumed. Felipa, on her side, had a long silver-embroidered skirt, beneath which her dainty feet hardly appeared; a small stomacher sewn with seed pearls set off her lithe figure, whilst her pretty, dark hair strayed from beneath a rich black lace kerchief. 'Where is my father, Carlo?' asked Felipa. 'Old Catalina says he has been down to-day to give orders about the repair of the bridge between the two islands. Do you think he is expecting any danger? Surely the forts are well protected; but what can make him so busy?' 'I don't know what to think,' said Carlo sadly, 'our father is so strange of late. I have been trying to speak to you about it, Felipa, for several days, but sometimes I fancy he seems to watch me as if he suspected me; though of what I cannot imagine. And then--have you noticed?--he cannot make up his mind to anything; he orders something one day, and the next he has altered his mind. He promised me the command of the little fort of Santa Cruz when I should be fifteen; but this morning when I reminded him of this he spoke quite roughly, and told me I was fit for nothing but playing with girls.' Carlo's colour heightened at the very idea of this rebuke; for if there was one virtue the boy admired more than any other it was courage. These two children had been early left motherless; but old Catalina, a faithful servant, had done all she could to make their lives happy since she had brought them here from Spain, after the Marquis Don Estevan del Campo had been made Governor of St. Catherine. 'Catalina says that our father is not the same man he was when our mother first married him,' said Felipa thoughtfully. 'The many worries he has have made the change. But never mind, Carlo, this mood will pass by, and we shall be happy again. When our brave uncle, Don Alvarez, comes with dear Aunt Elena, then they will advise our father, and he always takes Uncle Alvarez's opinion. He always does, because uncle speaks so decidedly.' The two children spoke in Spanish, but, strangely enough, they often put in English words and whole English phrases; and the reason of this was soon apparent, for at this moment a pretty, fair girl was seen running towards them with nimble feet down the slope, and, picking her way among the gorgeous flower-beds, she cried out in pure English, though with a slightly foreign accent: 'Dear Felipa, what do you think! There is a trading-vessel in the port, and the merchant has just come to offer us some beautiful cloth, and silver buckles! Catalina dares not send him away till you have seen him.' Carlo smiled as he looked at the English girl's beautiful fair hair, rosy cheeks, and active limbs. To him she appeared like some angel, for he was accustomed to seeing only dark people, and the Spanish women in the island were anything but beautiful. Felipa shook her head as she answered: 'Tell Catalina to say I want nothing.' The Governor's daughter spoke with just that tone of command which showed she was accustomed to be first, even though her gentle manner and sad face plainly indicated that her real nature was rather yielding than imperious. 'I can see Etta admired the silver buckles,' said Carlo kindly. 'Come, Mistress Englishwoman, I will buy you a pair; for, with the dislike to long petticoats that comes from your English blood, the pretty buckles are more necessary for you than for Felipa.' 'Oh, dear Carlo, will you really!' said Etta, her face beaming with pleasure. 'How good you are to me!' All at once, however, the smile died away, and, sitting down on a seat near Felipa, the English girl added, with tears in her blue eyes: 'But no, Carlo, I will not accept your buckles: a prisoner has no right to wear pretty things.' 'A prisoner! Oh, Etta!' said Felipa, throwing her arms round Etta's neck, 'why do you say that? Do we not love you dearly? Am I not a sister to you? and Carlo a dear brother? Do I not share all my things with you? And when Catalina is cross to you I make her sorry.' 'And my father has almost forgotten you are not one of his own,' added Carlo, standing behind Etta and taking one of the fair curls in his hand; for he dearly loved this English sister, as he called Etta Allison. 'Yes, yes, it is all true, and Santa Teresa is a lovely home; but I cannot forget I am English, and that I am really a prisoner. I once asked Don Estevan to send me back to England by one of the big ships, and he refused; and yet my mother's last words were that I was not to forget my own land.' At the thought of her mother Etta's tears came fast; but at this moment the Governor of St. Catherine himself appeared in the garden, and Etta, being afraid to be seen crying, dried her tears and stooped down to play with Felipa's little dog, so as not to show her red eyes. When she looked up again the sunshine had returned to her bonnie-looking face. The Marquis Don Estevan del Campo was a small thin-looking man, who had long suffered from a liver complaint, and in consequence his whole nature seemed to be changed. From a determined, clever administrator he had become peevish, undecided, and ill-tempered; and the men under him hardly knew how to obey his orders, which were often very contradictory. To-day he walked towards Carlo, with a troubled expression on his face, and on the way he took occasion to find fault with a slave who was watering the flower-beds. The slave trembled, as he was bidden in a very imperious fashion to be quicker about his work. Carlo came to meet his father, doffing his hat in the courtly fashion of a young Spanish noble. 'What are you doing here, children?' the Marquis said. 'Is not this your hour of study?' 'You have forgotten, my father, that it is a holiday to-day; and I was coming to ask if Felipa and Etta might not come down to the bay with me and have a row in my canoe.' The Marquis looked up quickly. 'No, no: there must be no rowing to-day; I have set workmen to repair the bridge, and you had best keep at home.' 'Then we will go to the Orange Grove,' said Felipa, coming up and putting her hand on her father's arm, 'and Etta and I will pick some of the sweetest fruit for your dessert this evening.' 'As you like, Felipa; but do not go far, and take Catalina and some of the slaves with you, for I hear several of the wild dogs have been seen in this neighbourhood. Anyhow, you will not have very long before sunset.' 'I will let the girls go alone, then,' said Carlo, 'and come with you, father.' And so saying the Marquis and his son walked away, whilst the girls with an escort of slaves entered the forest and went down the mountain side. This forest was not, however, such a one as could be found in England. Here the pleasant breeze played among the leaves of a huge fan palm with leaf-stalks ten feet long and fans twelve feet broad; next to it might be found a groo-groo or coco palm, and bananas and plantains; and below these giant trees of the tropics were lovely shrubs, covered with flowers of every hue and shape, round which flitted great orange butterflies larger than any we can see in our colder climate; and Etta with her English blood and active nature was never tired of chasing them, though now and then a little afraid of meeting with snakes. A great deal of this forest had not been cleared; but close by the path the Governor had had much of the undergrowth cut away, and lower down he had planted a grove of orange-trees, whose green fruit Etta and Felipa loved to pick; and round about was a lovely wild garden where grew sensitive plants and scarlet-flowered balisiers and climbing ferns, over which twined convolvuli of every colour, whilst the bees buzzed about these honeycups, never caring to fly up to the great cotton-trees so far above them, because they found enough beauty and sweetness in the flowers below. Felipa and Etta did not know the names of even half the beautiful flowers they gathered that evening; but they invented fancy names for many of them, and arranged with good taste a bunch of roses they picked from a bush twenty feet high, glad that a few were within their reach, and longing for Carlo, so that he might pull down some more for them. Of course there were drawbacks even in this lovely place, for there were the wasps and the spiders to avoid, and centipedes and ants, too; though Etta was never tired of watching the 'parasol ants' who walk in procession, each carrying a bit of green leaf over its head, on which were to be found now and then baby ants, having a ride home in their elegant carriage. Ah, it was a beautiful and wonderful home these young Spaniards had on this Santa Teresa hill; but at that time even the children in West Indian homes knew there were dangers that might come upon them, and St. Catherine had already been the scene of disasters which Etta could just remember, but which Felipa had seen nothing of as yet, having only been brought from Spain when the Marquis was firmly established as Governor of the island. After the girls had gathered as big nosegays as they could carry they began to ascend the hill again, for darkness would soon come upon them, there being no twilight in this lovely region, and even with their escort of slaves they were not allowed to be out after sunset. 'Dear Etta,' said Felipa, putting her arm round her friend's neck, 'promise me you will never again call yourself a prisoner. You would not care to leave me and beautiful Santa Teresa to go back to that dreadfully cold, foggy England? Surely you have not found us such cruel Spaniards as your people talk of; and Carlo loves you better than he loves me, I think.' Etta smiled and kissed her friend, but she answered: 'I love you and Carlo very, very much, Felipa; but my dear mother told me before she died that I was never to part with the letters she gave me, and that some day I must go home and find my relations; for in my country I come from an honourable family, but here I am only an English prisoner.' Felipa was going to argue the question again, when Carlo came running down to meet them. 'Make haste, Felipa and Etta: my father has suddenly made up his mind to go to the other island this evening; he means to sleep at the Fort St. Jerome, and he says we may accompany him.' The girls, always ready for a little journey, as they seldom left Santa Teresa, clapped their hands in joy and ran up the narrow path to the entrance of the castle, in high glee at the unexpected pleasure. |
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