IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY

CHAPTER XIV

WHEREIN THE CREW OF THE GALLEON INTERCEPTS THE TWO LOVERS BY THE WAY

The terrific impact of the huge ship on the sand among the breakers which thundered and beat upon her sides with overwhelming force came just in the nick of time for Morgan. Had the disaster been delayed a second longer the furious buccaneers would have cut him down where he stood. Even the officers were angered beyond measure at him for their present situation, which threatened the loss of the vast treasure already gained in the ship, although they had consented to Morgan’s proposition to attack La Guayra and Caracas, and the captain was in no way responsible for the storm and the wreck which jeoparded their booty and their future. Therefore it is probable that none of them, unless it were Teach, would have interfered to save Morgan, and he would have been swept from his feet by the savage men and instantly killed, in spite of all that he, or Carib, or any one else could have done. But the violence of the shock when the ship took ground threw them to the deck, and they forgot for the instant their bloody purpose of vengeance in the inevitableness of their approaching danger; they were checked in their mad anger for a few seconds and given a moment for reflection, that moment convinced them that they could not yet dispense with the services of their captain. With black rage and white fear striving for mastery in their hearts, they rose to their feet and faced him with menacing faces and threatening gestures.

“What’s to be done now?” questioned one bolder than the rest.

“Now’s the time,” roared the undaunted Morgan, striving to make himself heard by all above the thundering seas, “to show your courage, lads!”

He had quickly observed that the force with which she had been driven on the shoals had shoved the galleon’s nose firmly in the sand. She had been caught just before she took ground by a tremendous roller and had been lifted up and hurled far over to starboard. Although almost on her beam ends, her decks inclining landward, the strongly-built ship held steady in spite of the tremendous onslaughts of the seas along her bilge.

“Take heart, men!” he cried. “Observe. She lies still and secure. ’Tis a stout hulk and will take a tremendous battering before she breaks. We may yet save ourselves.”

“And the treasure?” roared one.

“Ay, and the treasure.”

“I think the storm has about blown itself out,” interposed old Hornigold, shouting out at this instant. “Look you, mates,” he cried, pointing to westward, “it clears! The sun’ll set fair to-night.”

“The bo’s’n is right,” cried Morgan. “But first of all we must take no chances with our lives. Even though we lose the ship we can seize another. The world is full of treasure and we can find it. Now I want some one to carry a line ashore through the breakers. Who will volunteer?”

“I,” said Carib instantly.

“I need you here,” answered Morgan, who did not purpose to be deprived of that bodyguard upon whose watchfulness his life had so often depended.

“I’ll go,” exclaimed young Teach, breaking through the crowd.

“That’s a brave heart!” said Morgan. “A line here!”

Instantly a light line was forthcoming. Teach tore off his jacket, laid aside his weapons, kicked off his shoes, took a turn of the line around his waist, made it fast, wrung Morgan’s hand, watched his chance, leaped overboard, was caught by an onrushing wave and carried far toward the shore. The ebb of the roller carried him back seaward some distance, but he swam forward madly, and the next wave brought him a little nearer the beach. He was driven backward and forward, but each time managed to get a little nearer the shore line.

The whole ship’s company stared after him, spontaneously cheering and yelling cries of encouragement in spite of the fact that he could not hear a single sound in the roaring, raging seas. Morgan himself tended the line, skilfully paying it out when necessary. In a few moments, although the time seemed hours to the watchers, the feet of Teach touched the shore, and although the terrific undertow of the wave that had dropped him there almost bore him back again, yet by a superhuman exertion he managed to stagger forward, and the next moment they saw him fall prostrate on the sand.

Had he fainted or given way? They looked at him with bated breath but after a little space they saw him rise slowly to his feet and stagger inland toward a low point where a lofty palm tree was writhing and twisting in the fierce wind. He was too good a seaman not instantly to see what was required of him, for, waving his hand toward the ship he at once began to haul in the line. Ready hands had bent a larger rope to it, which was succeeded by a third, strong enough to bear a man’s weight. The buccaneer hauled this last in with great difficulty, for the distance was far and the wet rope was heavy. He climbed up and made it fast to the tree and then waited. As soon as he had done so there was a rush on the ship for the line which had been made fast inboard temporarily. Morgan, however, interposed between the crew and the coveted way to safety.

“Back!” he shouted. “One at a time, and the order as I appoint! You, L’Ollonois, and you, and you,” he cried, indicating certain men upon whom he could depend. “Go in succession. Then haul a heavier rope ashore. We’ll put a traveler with a bo’s’n’s chair on it, and send these nuns and the priests first of all.”

“Do we have to wait for a lot of wimmin and papists?” growled one man among the frightened rascals.

“You have to wait until the ship breaks up beneath your feet, if it is my pleasure,” said Morgan, coolly, and they slunk back again, cowed. He was master of the situation once more.

There was something about that man that enforced obedience, whether they would or no. His orders were promptly obeyed and intelligently carried out by L’Ollonois and his men, who first went ashore. A heavy hawser was dragged through the surf and made fast high up on the sturdy palm tree. On it they rigged a traveler and the chair, and then the frightened nuns were brought forward from the cabin.

The women were sick with apprehension. They knew, of course, that the ship had struck, and they had been expecting instant death. Their prayers had been rudely interrupted by Morgan’s messenger, and when they came out on deck in that stern tempest, amid that body of wild, ruthless men, their hearts sank within them. At the sight of those human fiends they would fain have welcomed that watery grave from which they had just been imploring God to save them. When they discovered that their only means of safety lay in making that perilous passage through the waters which overwhelmed the bight of rope in which hung the boatswain’s chair, they counted themselves as dead. Indeed, they would have refused to go had it not been for the calm and heroic resolution of the abbess, their leader, Sister Maria Christina, who strove to assuage their fears.

“Hornigold,” said Morgan, “are you still faithful to me in this crisis?”

“I shall obey you in all things now,” answered the boatswain.

“Swear it.”

“By the old buccaneer faith,” said the One-Eyed, again adding the significant adverb, “now.”

For a wonder, the captain paid no attention to the emphasis on the word, “now.”

“Can you keep your pistols dry?”

“I can wrap them in oilskin and thrust them in my jacket.”

“Go to the shore, then,” said Morgan, “and receive these women. March them away from the men to yonder clump of palms, and guard them as you would your life. If any man approach you or them for any purpose, shoot him dead without a word. I’ll see that the others have no weapons. D’ye understand?”

“Ay, and shall obey.”

“Go!”

The boatswain swung himself into the chair and the men on the other end of the traveler pulled him to the other shore, none the worse for his wetting. He opened his jacket, found the weapons dry, and waved his hand as a sign to Morgan that he was all right.

“Which of you women will go first?” asked Morgan.

He turned instinctively to the tall abbess, towering among her shrinking sisters. She indicated first one and then another among the poor captives, and as they refused, she turned to Morgan and, with a grave dignity, said in Spanish, of which he was a master, that she would go first to show the way, and then the others would be in better heart to follow. She sat down on the boatswain’s chair which, was simply a bit of wood held like the seat of a swing in a triangle of rope made the sign of the cross, and waved her hand. She was hauled ashore in an instant with nothing worse to complain of than a drenching by the waves. By Hornigold’s direction she walked past him toward the clump of palms which Morgan had indicated.

One after another of the women were sent forward until the whole party was ashore. Then the Spanish priests took their turn, and after these reached the sand the rest of the crew were sent ashore. Morgan was careful to indicate each one’s turn, so that he preserved a balance between the more reputable and the more degraded members of the crew, both on ship and shore. Among the last to go were the maroon and de Lussan, each armed as Hornigold had been. They had both received instructions, one to station himself at the palm tree, the other to cover the hawser where it ran along the shore before it entered the water. These precautionary orders which he had given were necessary, for when the last man had been hauled ashore and Morgan stepped into the chair for his turn, one of the infuriated buccaneers, watching his chance, seized his jack-knife, the only weapon that he had, for Morgan had been careful to make the men leave their arms on the ship, and made a rush for the rope to cut it and leave the captain to his fate. But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could make a move Morgan stepped safely on the sand.

“That was well done,” he cried, turning to the Frenchman.

“Ah, mon capitaine,” answered the other, “it was not from affection, but because you are necessary to us.”

“Whatever it may be,” returned the old man, “I owe much to you and scuttle me, I’ll not forget it.”

The Frenchman, indifferent to Morgan’s expressions of gratitude, shrugged his shoulders, turned away, and made no reply.

The transportation of so many people across the slender line had taken a long time. The sun, just beginning to break through the riven clouds, was near its setting; night would soon be upon them. They must hurry with what was yet to be done. Morgan sent Teach and the Brazilian back to the ship with instructions to gather up enough weapons to arm the crew and to send them ashore. This was promptly done. Indeed, communication was not difficult now that the force of the gale was abating. The ship had been badly battered but still held together, and would hold unless the storm came up again. As the arms came ashore Morgan served them out to those men whom he considered most reliable; and, after throwing out a strong guard around the band, the rest sought shelter around huge driftwood fires which had been kindled by the use of flint and steel. There was hardly a possibility they would be observed in that deserted land, but still it was wise to take precaution.

Morgan ordered the women and priests to be double-guarded by the trustiest, and it was well that he did so. He gave old Hornigold particular charge of them. The buccaneers were hungry and thirsty, but they were forced to do without everything until morning when they could get all they wanted from the ship. So they tightened their belts and disposed themselves about the fires as best they could to get what rest they might.

Morgan and the officers drew apart and consulted long and earnestly over the situation. They could never make the ship seaworthy again. To build a smaller one out of her timbers would be the work of months and when it was finished it could not possibly carry the whole crew. To march westward toward the Isthmus meant to encounter terrific hardships for days; their presence would speedily become known, and they would be constantly menaced or attacked by troops from the heavily garrisoned places like Porto Bello and Carthagena. Back of them a short distance away lay La Guayra. It could be taken by surprise, Morgan urged, and easily captured. If they started to march westward the Indians would apprise the Spaniards of their presence, and they would have to fight their way to the Pacific. If they took La Guayra, then the Viceroy, with the treasure of his palace and the opulent city of Caracas would be at their mercy. They could ravage the two towns, seize the first ship that came to the roadstead, and make their way to the Isthmus safely and speedily. As to the treasure on the galleon, the buccaneer captain proposed to unload it and bury it in the sand, and after they had captured La Guayra it would be easy to get it back again.

Morgan’s counsel prevailed, and his was the resolution to which they came. The council of war broke up thereafter, and those not told off to watch with the guards went to sleep near the fires. Morgan, under the guardianship of the faithful Black Dog, threw himself upon the ground to catch a few hours’ rest.

The next morning the wind had died away and the sea was fairly calm. The men swam out to the galleon, found her still intact though badly strained, and by means of boats and rafts, working with persistent energy, succeeded in landing and burying the treasure under the very palm tree which held the rope that had given them salvation.

Morgan’s plan was an excellent one, the best that could be suggested in the straits they then were, and it received the hearty assent of all the men. It took them all day to land the treasure and make their other preparations, which included the manufacture of several rude scaling ladders, pieces of timber with cross pieces nailed upon them, which could be used in surmounting the walls of the town. In the evening the order of march was arranged and their departure set for the morrow. They had saved their treasure, they had food in plenty now, and with dry clothes and much rum they began to take a more cheerful view of life. They were fairly content once more.

The next day, in the afternoon, for he desired to approach the town at nightfall, Morgan gave the order to advance. He was as much of a soldier as a sailor and sent ahead a party of choice spirits under Teach, while the main body followed some distance behind. As the shades of evening descended a messenger from the advance guard came back with the news that a party of travelers had been seen coming down the mountain; that they comprised a half-dozen troopers, a number of slaves, a heavily laden pack train, and two women.

Teach had stationed his men under the trees at a bend of the road around which the travelers had to pass, and he awaited Morgan’s orders. Taking a detachment of the most reliable men with Velsers and Hornigold, and bidding the other officers and men to stand where they were until he sent word, Morgan and those with him ran rapidly forward until they came to the ambuscade which young Teach had artfully prepared. He and his had scarcely time to dispose themselves for concealment before a soldier came riding carelessly down the road. Waiting until the man had passed him a short distance and until the other unsuspicious travelers were fairly abreast the liers-in-wait, whom he had charged on no account to move until he gave the word, Morgan stepped out into the open and called. The buccaneers instantly followed him.

As the soldier saw these fierce looking men spring before him out of the darkness, he cried aloud. The next moment he was shot dead by Morgan himself. At the same instant a volley rang out at contact range, and every man in the party fell to the ground. Some were killed, others only wounded; all of them except Alvarado were injured in some way. He struck spurs into his horse when he heard the cry of Fadrique and the shot. The surprised barb plunged forward, was hit by half a dozen bullets, fell to the ground in a heap, and threw his rider over his head. The Spaniard scrambled to his feet, whipped out his sword, lunged forward and drove his blade into the breast of old Velsers. The next instant a dozen weapons flashed over his head. One rang upon his steel casque, another crashed against the polished breastplate that he wore. He cut out again in the darkness, and once more fleshed his weapon.

Women’s screams rose above the tumult. Beating back the swords which menaced him, although he was reeling from the blows which he had received, Alvarado strove to make his way toward Donna Mercedes, when he was seized in the darkness from behind.

“Kill him!” cried a voice in English, which Alvarado and Mercedes both understood perfectly. “He’s the only one alive.”

“Nay,” cried another voice, stronger and sterner, “save him; we’ll question him later. Did any escape?”

“Not one.”

“Are there any horses alive?”

“Two or three.”

“Bring them hither. Now back to the rest. Then we can show a light and see what we have captured. Teach, lead on. Let no harm come to the women.”

“Ay, ay,” answered another voice out of the darkness, and a third voice growled out:

“Hadn’t we better make sure that none are alive to tell the tale?”

“Of course; a knife for the wounded,” answered the stern voice, “and bear a hand.”

Greatly surprised and unable to comprehend anything but that his men had been slaughtered and no harm had as yet befallen his charges, Alvarado, whose arms had been bound to his side, found himself dragged along in the wake of his captors, one or two of whom mounted on the unwounded horses, with the two women between them, rode rapidly down the road.

CHAPTER XV

TELLS HOW MERCEDES DE LARA RETURNED THE UNSOUGHT CARESS OF SIR HENRY MORGAN, AND THE MEANS BY WHICH THE BUCCANEERS SURMOUNTED THE WALLS

One hundred yards or so beyond the place of the ambush the road dropped sharply over the last low cliff to the narrow strand which led to the west wall of La Guayra, distant a half a mile away. They had all been under the deep shadow of the thick trees overhanging the way until this instant, but in the faint light cast by the moon just risen, Alvarado could see that a great body of people were congregated before him on the road. Who they were and what they were he could not surmise. He was not long left in doubt, however, for the same voice whose commanding tones had caused his life to be spared, now called for lights. The demand was obeyed with a promptness that bespoke fear indeed, or discipline of the sternest, and soon the captives found themselves in a circle of lurid light sent forth by a number of blazing torches.

The illumination revealed to Alvarado as villainous and terrible-looking a body of men as he had ever seen. The first glance convinced him that they were not Spanish brigands or robbers. He was too young to have had dealings with the buccaneers of the past generation, but he realized that if any such remained on this side of the earth, they must be like these men who surrounded him. He wasted no time in surmises, however, for after the first swift comprehensive glance his eyes sought Mercedes. She sat her horse free and uninjured apparently, for which he thanked God. She was leaning forward over her saddle and staring in bewilderment and surprise at the scene and confusion before her.

“Donna Mercedes,” cried Alvarado, turning himself about, in spite of his bonds and the restraint his immediate captors endeavored to put upon him, “are you safe unhurt?”

“Safe,” answered the girl, “and thou?”

“Well, but for these bonds.”

“God be thanked! Who are these men?”

“I know not, but ”

“Oh, sir,” interrupted Senora Agapida, recovering her voice at the sound of the Spanish tongue, “for Christ’s sake, what does this mean? Save us!”

“Senora,” said that same sharp voice, but this time speaking in the Spanish tongue, as a tall man, hat in hand, urged his horse forward, “fear nothing, you shall be protected. And you, senorita. Do I not have the honor of addressing Donna Mercedes de Lara?”

“That is my name,” answered the girl, haughtily. “Who are you? Why have you shot my people and seized me prisoner?”

“For love of you, Mistress Mercedes.”

“Just heaven! Who are you, I say!” cried the girl at this startling answer, turning in surprise and terror to look upon his countenance.

There was something familiar in the man’s face that called up a vague recollection which she strove to master.

“Who are you?” she cried again.

“Sir Harry Morgan!” answered the horseman, bowing low over the saddle, “a free sailor at your service, ma’am.”

“My God!” cried Alvarado, who had listened attentively, “the buccaneer?”

“The same,” answered Morgan turning to him.

“Sir Harry Morgan! Were you not Governor of Jamaica last year?” asked Mercedes in astonishment.

“I had that honor, lady.”

“Why are you now in arms against us?”

“A new king, Mistress de Lara, sits the English throne. He likes me not. I and these gallant seamen are going to establish a kingdom in some sweet island in the South Seas, with our good swords. I would fain have a woman to bear me company on the throne. Since I saw you in Jamaica last year, I have designed you for the honor ”

“Monster!” screamed the girl, appalled by the hideous leer which accompanied his words. “Rather anything ”

“Sir,” interrupted Alvarado, “you are an Englishman. Your past rank should warrant you a gentleman, but for this. There is no war between England and Spain. What is the meaning of this outrage? This lady is the daughter of the Viceroy of Venezuela. I am his captain and the commandante of yonder city of La Guayra. You have waylaid us, taken us at a disadvantage. My men are killed. For this assault His Excellency will exact bloody reparation. Meanwhile give order that we be unbound, and let us pass.”

“Ho, ho!” laughed the buccaneer. “Think you I fear the Viceroy? Nay, not His Majesty of Spain himself! I came here with set purpose to take La Guayra and then Caracas, and to bear away with me this pretty lady upon whom, I repeat, I design to bestow the honor of my name.”

As he spoke he leaned toward Mercedes, threw his arm around her waist, and before she was even aware of her intention, kissed her roughly on the cheek.

“Lads,” he cried, “three cheers for the future Lady Morgan!”

The proud Spanish girl turned white as death under this insult. Her eyes flashed like coals of fire. Morgan was close beside her. She was without weapon save a jeweled whip that hung at her wrist. Before the first note of a cheer could break from the lips of the men she lifted it and struck him violently again and again full in the face.

“Thou devil!” cried the captain in fury, whipping out his sword and menacing her with it.

“Strike!” cried Mercedes bravely, “and let my blood wash out the insult that you have put upon my cheek.”

She raised her whip once more, but this time young Teach, coming on the other side, caught her hand, wrested the jeweled toy from her, and broke it in the struggle.

“Thou shalt pay dearly for those stripes, lady!” roared Morgan, swerving closer to her. “And not now in honorable wedlock ”

“I will die first!” returned Mercedes.

Alvarado, meanwhile, had been struggling desperately to free himself. By the exercise of superhuman strength, just as Morgan again menaced the woman he loved, he succeeded in freeing himself from his loosely-tied bonds. His guards for the moment had their attention distracted from him by the group on horseback. He wrenched a sword from the hand of one, striking him a blow with his naked fist that sent him reeling as he did so, and then flung out his other arm so that the heavy pommel of the sword struck the second guard in the face, and the way was clear for the moment. He sprang forward instantly, seized Morgan’s horse, forced him away from Mercedes by a wrench of his powerful arm, and stood at bay in front of the woman he loved. He said no word but stood with his sword up on guard, panting heavily from his fierce exertions.

“Alvarado, you will be killed!” screamed the girl, seeing the others make for him.

“Here we have it,” sneered Morgan. “This is the secret of your refusal. He is your lover.”

“Seize him!” cried Teach, raising his sword, as followed by the others he made at Alvarado, who awaited them undaunted.

“Stay!” shouted de Lussan, “there is a better way.”

Rudely shoving Senora Agapida aside, he seized Mercedes from behind.

“Do not move, mademoiselle,” he said in French, in his excitement, which fortunately she understood.

“That’s well done!” cried Morgan, “Captain Alvarado, if that be your name, throw down your sword if you would save the lady’s life.”

“Mind me not, Alvarado,” cried Mercedes, but Alvarado, perceiving the situation, instantly dropped his weapon.

“Now seize him and bind him again! And you, dogs!” Morgan added, turning to the men who had allowed the prisoner to slip before, “if he escape you again you shall be hanged to the nearest tree!”

“Hadst not better bind the woman, too?” queried the Frenchman gently, still holding her fast in his fierce grasp.

“Ay, the wench as well. Oh, I’ll break your spirit, my pretty one,” answered Morgan savagely, flipping the young woman’s cheek. “Wilt pay me blows for kisses? Scuttle me, you shall crawl at my feet before I’ve finished with you!”

“Why not kill this caballero out of hand, captain?” asked Hornigold, savage from a slight wound, as he limped up to Morgan.

“No, I have use for him. Are the rest silent?”

“They will tell no tales,” laughed L’Ollonois grimly.

“Did none escape back up the road?”

“None, Sir Henry,” answered the other. “My men closed in after them and drove them forward. They are all gone.”

“That’s well. Now, for La Guayra. What force is there, Senor Capitan?”

Alvarado remained obstinately silent. He did not speak even when Morgan ruthlessly cut him across the cheek with his dagger. He did not utter a sound, although Mercedes groaned in anguish at the sight of his torture.

“You’d best kill him, captain,” said L’Ollonois.

“No, I have need for him, I say,” answered Morgan, giving over the attempt to make him speak. “Is any one here who has been at La Guayra recently?” he asked of the others.

“I was there last year on a trading ship of France,” answered Sawkins.

“What garrison then?”

“About two hundred and fifty.”

“Was it well fortified?”

“As of old, sir, by the forts on either side and a rampart along the sea wall.”

“Were the forts in good repair?”

“Well kept indeed, but most of the guns bore seaward.”

“Have you the ladders ready?” cried Morgan to Braziliano, who had been charged to convey the rude scaling ladders by which they hoped to get over the walls.

“All ready, captain,” answered that worthy.

“Let us go forward then. We’ll halt just out of musket-shot and concert our further plans. We have the Governor in our hands, lads. The rest will be easy. There is plenty of plunder in La Guayra, and when we have made it our own we’ll over the mountains and into Caracas. Hornigold, you are lame from a wound, look to the prisoners.”

“To La Guayra! To La Guayra!” enthusiastically shouted the men, taking up the line of march.

The rising moon flooding the white strand made the scene as light as day. They kept good watch on the walls of La Guayra, for the sound of the shots in the night air had been heard by some keen-eared sentry, and as a result the garrison had been called to arms. The firing had been too heavy to be accounted for by any ordinary circumstances, and officers and soldiers had been at a loss to understand it. However, to take precautions were wise, and every preparation was made as if against an immediate attack. The drums were beaten; the ramparts were manned; the guns were primed, and such of the townspeople as were not too timid to bear arms were assembled under their militia officers.

The watchers on the west wall of the fort were soon aware of the approach of the buccaneers. Indeed, they made no concealment whatever about their motions. Who they were and what they were the garrison had not discovered and could not imagine. A prompt and well-aimed volley, however, as soon as the buccaneers came within range apprised them that they were dealing with enemies, and determined enemies at that. Under cover of the confusion caused by this unexpected discharge, Morgan deployed his men.

“Lads,” he said, “we’ll board yon fort with a rush and a cheer. The ladders will be placed on the walls, and under cover of a heavy fire from our musketry we’ll go over them. Use only the cutlass when you gain the parapet and ply like men. Remember what’s on the other side!”

“Ay, but who’ll plant the ladders?” asked one.

“The priests and women,” said Morgan grimly. “I saved them for that.”

A roar of laughter and cheers broke from the ruffianly gang as they appreciated the neatness of the old buccaneer’s scheme.

“’Tis an old trick,” he continued; “we did the same thing thirty years since at Porto Bello. Eh, Hornigold? How’s that leg of yours?”

“Stiff and sore.”

“Bide here then with the musketeers. Teach, you shall take the walls under the cliff yonder. L’Ollonois, lead your men straight at the fort. De Lussan, let the curtain between be your point. I shall be with the first to get over. Now, charge your pieces all, and Hornigold, after we have started, by slow and careful fire do you keep the Spaniards down until you hear us cheer. After that, hold your fire.”

“But I should like to be in the first rank myself, master,” growled the old boatswain.

“Ha, ha!” laughed Morgan, “that’s a right spirit, lad, but that cut leg holds you back, for which you have to thank this gentleman,” bowing toward Alvarado with a hideous countenance. “You can be of service here. Watch the musketeers. We would have no firing into our backs. Now bring up the women and priests. And, Hornigold, watch Senorita de Lara. See that she does not escape. On your life, man; I’d rather hold her safe,” he muttered under his breath, “than take the whole city of Caracas.”

With shouts of fiendish glee the buccaneers drove the hapless nuns and priests, who had been dragged along in the rear, to the front. The Spaniards were firing at them now, but with no effect so far. The distance was great and the moonlight made aim uncertain, and every time a head showed itself over the battlement it became a target for the fire of the musketeers, who, by Hornigold’s orders, ran forward under the black shadow cast by the high cliff, where they could not be seen, and from this point of concealment, taking deliberate aim, made havoc among the defenders.

“Now, good fathers and sisters,” began Morgan, “you have doubtless been curious to know why you were not put to death. I saved you not because I loved you, but because I needed you. I had a purpose in view; that purpose is now apparent.”

“What would you with us, senor?” asked Sister Maria Christina, the abbess, stepping out in front of her sisters.

“A little service, my sister. Bring up the ladders, men. See, there are seven all told. That will be four ladies apiece to four ladders; and here are seven priests, which allows two to each of the three remaining ladders, with one priest and one sister over for good measure, and to take the place of any that may be struck down.”

“And what are we to do with them, senor?” asked Fra Antonio de Las Casas, drawing nearer to the captain.

“You are to carry them to yonder wall and place them against it.”

“You do not mean,” burst out Alvarado painfully, for he could scarcely speak from his wounded cheek, “to make these holy women bear the brunt of that fire from the fort, and the good priests as well?”

“Do I value the lives of women and priests, accursed Spaniard, more than our own?” questioned the captain, and the congenial sentiment was received by a yell of approval from the men. “But if you are tender-hearted, I’ll give the defenders a chance. Will you advise them to yield and thus spare these women?”

“I can not do that,” answered Alvarado sadly. “’Tis their duty to defend the town. There are twenty women here, there are five hundred there.”

“D’ye hear that, mates?” cried Morgan. “Up with the ladders!”

“But what if we refuse?” cried the abbess.

“You shall be given over to the men,” answered Morgan, ferociously, “whereas, if you do as I order, you may go free; those who are left alive after the storm. Do ye hear, men? We’ll let them go after they have served us,” continued the chief turning to his men. “Swear that you will let them go! There are others in La Guayra.”

“We swear, we swear!” shouted one after another, lifting their hands and brandishing their weapons.

“You hear!” cried Morgan. “Pick up the ladders!”

“For God’s sake, sir ” began Maria Christina.

“I know no God,” interrupted Morgan.

“You had a mother a wife once perhaps children, Senor Capitan. Unsay your words! We can not place the ladders which will give you access to yonder helpless town.”

“Then to the men you go!” cried Morgan ruthlessly. “Forward here, two or three of you, take this woman! She chooses ”

“Death ” cried the abbess, snatching a dagger from the nearest hand and driving it into her breast, “rather than dishonor!”

She held herself proudly erect for a moment, swayed back and forth, and then fell prostrate upon the sand, the blood staining her white robe about the hilt of the poniard. She writhed and shuddered in agony where she lay, striving to say something. Fra Antonio sprang to her side, and before any one could interfere knelt down.

“I I I have sinned,” she gasped. “Mercy, mercy!”

“Thou hast done well, I absolve thee!” cried the priest, making the sign of the cross upon her forehead.

“Death and fury!” shouted Morgan, livid with rage. “Let her die unshriven! Shall I be balked thus?”

He sprang toward the old man stooping over the woman, and struck him across his shaven crown with the blade of his sword. The priest pitched down instantly upon the body of the abbess, a long shudder running through him. Then he lay still.

“Harry Morgan’s way!” cried the buccaneer, recovering his blade. “And you?” turning toward the other women. “Have you had lesson enough? Pick up those ladders, or by hell ”

“Mercy, mercy!” screamed the frightened nuns.

“Not another word! Drive them forward, men!”

The buccaneers sprang at the terrified women and priests, some with weapons out, others with leers and outstretched arms. First one and then another gave way. The only leadership among the sisters and priests lay upon the sand there. What could they do? They picked up the ladders and, urged forward by threats and shouts of the buccaneers under cover of a furious discharge from Hornigold’s musketeers, they ran to the walls imploring the Spaniards not to fire upon them.

When the Spanish commander perceived who were approaching, with a mistaken impulse of mercy he ordered his men to fire over their heads, and so did little danger to the approaching buccaneers. A few of them fell, but the rest dashed into the smoke. There was no time for another discharge. The ladders were placed against the walls, and priests and nuns were ruthlessly cast aside and trampled down. In a little space the marauders were upon the ramparts fighting like demons. Morgan, covered by Black Dog, with Teach, de Lussan, and L’Ollonois, was in the lead. Truth to tell, the captain was never backward when fighting was going on. The desperate onslaught of their overwhelming numbers, once they had gained a foothold, swept the defenders before them like chaff. Waiting for nothing, they sprang down from the fort and raced madly through the narrow streets of the town. They brushed opposition away as leaves are driven aside by a winter storm. Ere the defenders on the east forts could realize their presence, they were upon them, also.

In half an hour every man bearing a weapon had been cut down. The town was at the mercy of this horde of human tigers. They broke open wine cellars; they pillaged the provision shops; they tortured without mercy the merchants and inhabitants to force them to discover their treasures, and they insulted and outraged the helpless women. They were completely beyond control now; drunk with slaughter, intoxicated with liquor, mad with lust, they ravaged and plundered. To add to the confusion, fire burst forth here and there, and before the morning dawned half of the city was in ashes.

The pale moon looked down upon a scene of horror such as it had never before shone upon, even in the palmiest days of the buccaneers.

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD RECOGNIZES A CROSS, AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO FINDS AND LOSES A MOTHER ON THE STRAND

The musketeers under Hornigold, chosen for their mastery with the weapon, had played their parts with cunning skill.

Concealed from observation by the deep shadow of the cliffs, and therefore immune from the enemy’s fire, they had made targets of the Spaniards on the walls, and by a close, rapid, and well-directed discharge, had kept down the return of the garrison until the very moment of the assault. Hornigold was able to keep them in hand for a little space after the capture of the town, but the thought of the pleasure being enjoyed by their comrades was too much for them. Anxious to take a hand in the hideous fray, they stole away one by one, slinking under the cliff until they were beyond the reach of the boatswain, then boldly rushing for the town in the open, until the old sailor was left with only a half-dozen of the most dependable surrounding himself and prisoners.

The rest would not have got away from him so easily had he not been so intensely occupied that at first he had taken little note of what was going on.

Mercedes and Alvarado had only opportunity to exchange a word now and then, for extended conversation was prevented by the guards. Alvarado strove to cheer the woman he loved, and she promised him she would choose instant death rather than dishonor. He could give her little encouragement of rescue, for unless word of their plight were carried to the Viceroy immediately, he would be far on the way to the Orinoco country before any tidings could reach him, and by the time he returned it would be too late.

Again and again Alvarado strove to break his bonds, in impotent and helpless fury, but this time he was securely bound and his captors only laughed at his struggles. In the midst of their grief and despair they both took notice of the poor abbess. Fra Antonio had not moved since Morgan had stricken him down, but there was life still in the woman, for, from where they stood, some distance back, the two lovers each marked her convulsive trembling. The sight appealed profoundly to them in spite of their perilous situation.

“The brave sister lives,” whispered Mercedes.

“’Tis so,” answered Alvarado. “Senor,” he called, “the sister yonder is alive. Wilt not allow us to minister to her?”

“Nay,” said Hornigold brusquely, “I will go myself. Back, all of ye!” he added. “She may wish to confess to me in default of the worthy father.”

He leered hideously as he spoke.

“Coward!” cried Alvarado, but his words affected Hornigold not at all.

Before he could say another word the guards forced him rudely back with the two women. The worthy Senora Agapida by this time was in a state of complete and total collapse, but Mercedes bore herself her lover marked with pleasure as proudly and as resolutely as if she still stood within her father’s palace surrounded by men who loved her and who would die for her.

Rolling the body of the prostrate old man aside, Hornigold knelt down on the white sand by the form of the sister. The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped over he scanned it with his one eye. A sudden flash of recognition came to him. With a muttered oath of surprise he looked again.

“It can’t be!” he exclaimed, “and yet ”

After Fra Antonio’s brave attempt at absolution, the woman had fainted. Now she opened her eyes, although she was not yet fully conscious.

“Water!” she gasped feebly, and as it chanced the boatswain had a small bottle of the precious fluid hanging from a strap over his shoulder. There was no pity in the heart of the pirate, he would have allowed the woman to die gasping for water without giving her a second thought, but when he recognized her or thought he did there instantly sprang into his mind a desire to make sure. If she were the person he thought her she might have information of value. Unslinging the bottle and pulling out the cork, he placed it to her lips.

“I die,” she murmured in a stronger voice. “A priest.”

“There is none here,” answered the boatswain. “Fra Antonio he absolved you.”

“Where is he?”

“Dead, yonder.”

“But I must confess.”

“Confess to me,” chuckled the old man in ghastly mockery. “Many a woman has done so and ”

“Art in Holy Orders, senor?” muttered the woman.

“Holy enough for you. Say on.”

“Fra Antonio, now,” she continued, vacantly lapsing into semi-delirium, “he married us ’twas a secret his rank was so great. He was rich, I poor humble. The marriage lines in the cross. There was a What’s that? A shot? The buccaneers. They are coming! Go not, Francisco!”

Hornigold, bending an attentive ear to these broken sentences lost not a word.

“Go not,” she whispered, striving to lift an arm, “they will kill thee! Thou shalt not leave me alone, my Francisco The boy in Panama ”

It was evident to the sailor that the poor woman’s mind had gone back to the dreadful days of the sack of Panama. He was right then, it was she.

“The boy save him, save him!” she cried suddenly with astonishing vigor. The sound of her own voice seemed to recall her to herself. She stopped, her eyes lost their wild glare and fixed themselves upon the man above her, his own face in the shadow as hers was in the light.

“Is it Panama?” she asked. “Those screams the shots ” She turned her head toward the city. “The flames is it Panama?”

“Nay,” answered the one-eyed fiercely. “’Tis twenty-five years since then, and more. Yonder city is La Guayra. This is the coast of Venezuela.”

“Oh the doomed town I remember now I stabbed myself rather than place the ladders. Who art thou, senor?”

“Benjamin Hornigold!” cried the man fiercely, bending his face to hers.

For a second the woman stared at him. Then, recognizing him, she screamed horribly, raising herself upon her arm.

“Hornigold!” she cried. “What have you done with the child?”

“I left him at Cuchillo, outside the walls,” answered the man.

“And the cross?”

“On his breast. The Captain ”

“The marriage lines were there. You betrayed me. May God’s curse nay, I die. For Christ’s sake I forgive Francisco, Francisco.”

She fell back gasping on the sand. He tore the enclosing coif from her face. In a vain effort to hold back death’s hand for another second, Hornigold snatched a spirit flask from his belt and strove to force a drop between her lips. It was too late. She was gone. He knew the signs too well. He laid her back on the sand, exclaiming:

“Curse her! Why couldn’t she have lived a moment longer? The Captain’s brat and she might have told me. Bring up the prisoners!” he cried to the guards, who had moved them out of earshot of this strange conversation.

“The cross,” he muttered, “the marriage lines therein. The only clew. And yet she cried ‘Francisco.’ That was the name. Who is he? If I could find that cross. I’d know it among a thousand. Hither,” he called to the prisoners slowly approaching.

“The good sister?” queried Alvarado.

“Dead.”

As the young soldier, with an ejaculation of pity, bent forward in the moonlight to look upon the face of the dead woman, from his torn doublet a silver crucifix suddenly swung before the eyes of the old buccaneer.

“By heaven!” he cried. “’Tis the cross.”

He stepped nearer to Alvarado, seized the carven crucifix, and lifted it to the light.

“I could swear it was the same,” he muttered. “Senor, your name and rank?”

“I can not conceive that either concerns a bloodthirsty ruffian like ”

“Stop! Perhaps there is more in this than thou thinkest,” said Mercedes. “Tell him, Alvarado. It can do no harm. Oh, senor, have pity on us! Unbind me,” she added, “I give you my word. I wish but to pay my respect to the woman yonder.”

“She gives good counsel, soldier,” answered the boatswain. “Cut her lashing,” he said to the sailor who guarded them.

As the buccaneer did so, Mercedes sank on her knees by the side of the dead woman.

“Now, sir, your name?” asked Hornigold again.

“Alvarado.”

“Where got you that name?”

“It was given me by His Excellency, the Viceroy.”

“And wherefore?”

There was something so tremendous in Hornigold’s interest that in spite of himself the young man felt compelled to answer.

“It was his pleasure.”

“Had you not a name of your own?”

“None that I know of.”

“What mean you?”

“I was found, a baby, outside the walls of Panama in a little village.
The Viceroy adopted me and brought me up. That is all.”

“When was this?” asked Hornigold.

“After the sack of Panama. And the name of the village was ”

“Cuchillo ” interrupted Hornigold triumphantly.

“My God, senor, how know you that?”

“I was there.”

“You were there?” cried the young man.

“Ay.”

“For love of heaven, can you tell me who I am, what I am?”

“In good time, young sir, and for a price. At present I know but one thing.”

“That is ”

“There lies your mother,” answered the buccaneer slowly, pointing to the white figure on the sand.

“My mother! Madre de Dios!” cried Alvarado, stepping forward and looking down upon the upturned face with its closely cut white hair, showing beautiful in the moonlight. “God rest her soul, she hath a lovely face and died in defence of her honor like the gentlewoman she should be. My mother how know you this?”

“In the sack of Panama a woman gave me a male child, and for money I agreed to take it and leave it in a safe and secluded spot outside the city walls. I carried it at the hazard of my life as far as Cuchillo and there left it.”

“But how know you that the child you left is I?”

“Around the baby’s neck the mother, ere she gave him to me, placed this curious cross you wear. ’Tis of such cunning workmanship that there is naught like it under the sun that ever I have seen. I knew it even in the faint light when my eyes fell upon it. I left the child with a peasant woman to take him where I had been directed. I believed him safe. On leaving Panama that village lay in our backward path. We burned it down. I saw the baby again. Because I had been well paid I saved him from instant death at the hands of the buccaneers, who would have tossed him in the air on the point of their spears. I shoved the crucifix, which would have tempted them because it was silver, underneath the dress and left the child. He was alive when we departed.”

“And the day after,” cried Alvarado, “de Lara’s troops came through that village and found me still wearing that cross. My mother! Loving God, can it be? But my father ”

“What shall I have if I tell you?”

“Riches, wealth, all Set us free and ”

“Not now. I can not now. Wait.”

“At least, Donna Mercedes.”

“Man, ’twould be my life that would pay; but I’ll keep careful watch over her. I have yet some influence with the Captain. To-morrow I’ll find a way to free you you must do the rest.”

“Mercedes,” said Alvarado, “heardst thou all?”

“But little,” answered the girl.

“That lady is believed to have been my mother!”

“Gentle or simple,” said the girl, “she died in defence of her honor, like the noblest, the best. This for thee, good sister,” she whispered, bending down and kissing the pale forehead. “And may I do the like when my time comes. Thou shouldst be proud of her, my Alvarado,” she said, looking up at him. “See!” she cried suddenly as the resemblance, which was indeed strong between them, struck her. “Thou hast her face. Her white hair was once golden like thine. He tells the truth. Oh, sir, for Christ’s sake, have pity upon us!”

A messenger came staggering toward them across the woods.

“Master Hornigold,” he cried.

“Ay, ay.”

“We’ve taken the town. The Captain wants you and your prisoners. You’ll find him in the guard room. Oh, ho, there’s merry times to-night in La Guayra! All hell’s let loose, and we are devils.” He laughed boisterously and drunkenly as he spoke and lurched backward over the sands.

“We must be gone,” said Hornigold. “Rise, mistress. Come, sir.”

“But this lady,” urged Alvarado his lips could scarcely form the unfamiliar word “mother” “and the good priest? You will not leave them here?”

“The rising tide will bear them out to sea.”

“A moment by your leave,” said Alvarado, stepping toward the dead. Assisted by Mercedes, for he was still bound, he stooped down and touched his lips to those of the dead woman, whispering a prayer as he did so. Rising to his feet he cried:

“But my father who is he who was he?”

“We shall find that out.”

“But his name?”

“I’m not sure, I can not tell now,” answered Hornigold evasively; “but with this clew the rest should be easy. Trust me, and when we can discuss this matter undisturbed ”

“But I would know now!”

“You forget, young sir, that you are a prisoner, and must suit your will to my pleasure. Forward!”

But the soul of the old buccaneer was filled with fierce joy. He thought he knew the secret of the crucifix now. The Spanish captain’s mother lay dead upon the sands, but his father lived. He was sure of it. He would free Alvarado and bring him down upon Morgan. He chuckled with fiendish delight as he limped along. He had his revenge now; it lay in the hollow of his hand, and ’twas a rare one indeed. Mercedes being bound again, the little party marched across the beach and the bodies of the priest and the nun were left alone while the night tide came rippling up the strand.

Scarcely had the party disappeared within the gate of the fort when the priest slowly and painfully lifted himself on his hands and crawled toward the woman. While the buccaneer had talked with the abbess he had returned to consciousness and had listened. Bit by bit he gathered the details of her story, and in truth he knew it of old. By turning his head he had seen the crucifix on the young man’s breast and he also had recognized it. He lay still and silent, however, feigning death, for to have discovered himself would have resulted in his instant despatch. When they had gone he painfully crawled over to the body of the poor nun.

“Isabella,” he murmured, giving her her birth name, “thou didst suffer. Thou tookest thine own life, but the loving God will forgive thee. I am glad that I had strength and courage to absolve thee before I fell. And I did not know thee. ’Tis so many years since. Thy son, that brave young captain I will see thee righted. I wonder ”

He moved nearer to her, scrutinizing her carefully, and then, with an apology even to the dead, the old man opened the front of her gown.

“Ay, ay, I thought so,” he said, as his eye caught a glimpse of a gold chain against her white neck. Gently he lifted it, unclasped it, drew it forth. There was a locket upon it. Jewels sparkled upon its surface. She had worn it all these years.

“O, vanitas vanitatum!” murmured the priest, yet compassionately. “What is it that passes the love of woman?”

He slipped it quietly within the breast of his habit and then fell prostrate on the sand, faint from pain and loss of blood. Long the two figures lay there in the moonlight while the rising tide lipped the shining sands. The cool water at last restored consciousness to one of the still forms, but though they laved the beautiful face of the other with tender caresses they could not call back the troubled life that had passed into peaceful eternity. Painfully the old priest raised himself upon his hands and looked about him.

“O God!” he murmured, “give me strength to live until I can tell the story. Sister Maria Christina Isabella that was thou were brave and thou wert beautiful; thou hast served our Holy Church long and well. If I could only lay thee in some consecrated ground but soul like to thine makes holy e’en the sea which shall bear thee away. Shriven thou wert, buried thou shalt be.”

The man struggled to his knees, clasped his hands before him, and began the burial service of his ancient Church.

“We therefore commit her body into the great deep,” he said, “looking for the general resurrection in the last day, and the life of the world to come ”

The water was washing around him ere he finished his mournful task, and with one long look of benison and farewell he rose to his feet and staggered along the road down the beach. Slowly he went, but presently he reached the turn where began the ascent of the mountain. Before he proceeded he halted and looked long toward the flaming, shrieking, ruined town. The flooding tide was in now and the breakers were beating and thundering far across the sands. The body of the abbess was gone.

The old man drew himself up, lifted his trembling hands and prayed; he prayed again for the soul of the woman; he prayed for the young man, that he might learn the truth; he prayed for the beautiful damsel who loved him; he prayed for the people, the hapless people of the doomed town, the helpless, outraged women, the bereft mothers, the tortured men, the murdered children, and as he prayed he called down the curse of God upon those who had wrought such ruin.

“Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not! Cut them off root and branch who have despoiled thy people Israel. They have taken the sword and may they perish by it as was promised of old!”

A gray, grim, gaunt figure, bloodstained, pale, he stood there in that ghastly light, invoking the judgment of God upon Morgan and his men ere he turned away and was lost in the darkness of the mountain.

CHAPTER XVII

WHICH DESCRIBES AN AUDIENCE WITH SIR HENRY MORGAN AND THE TREACHERY BY WHICH CAPTAIN ALVARADO IS BENEFITED

The clock on the wall was striking eleven as Hornigold forced his prisoners into the guardroom of the first fort that had been captured, which, as it was the larger of the two, Morgan had selected as his head quarters. Mercedes’ soul had turned to stone at the sights and sounds which met her as she passed through the town where the hellish revelry was now in full blast. The things she witnessed and heard were enough to appall the stoutest heart that ever beat within the rudest breast. She forgot her own danger in her sympathy for the suffering inhabitants of the devoted town. Ghastly pale and sick with horror, she tottered and staggered as she entered the room. As for the Senora Agapida, she had collapsed long since, and for the last one hundred yards of the journey had been dragged helplessly along by two of her captors, who threw her in a senseless heap on the stone flagging of the great vaulted chamber.

The agony and suffering, the torture and death, the shame and dishonor of his people affected Alvarado differently. His soul flamed within his breast with pity for the one, rage for the other. He lusted and thirsted to break away and single-handed rush upon the human wolves and tigers, who were despoiling women, torturing men, murdering children, as if they had been devils. The desire mastered him, and he writhed and struggled in his bonds, but unavailingly.

It was a haggard, distracted pair, therefore, which was brought before the chief buccaneer. Morgan sat at the head of the guardroom, on a platform, a table before him strewn with reckless prodigality with vessels of gold and silver stolen from altar and sideboard indifferently, some piled high with food, others brimming with a variety of liquors, from the rich old wines of Xeres to the fiery native rum. On one side of the captain was a woman. Pale as a ghost, the young and beautiful widow of a slaughtered officer, in her disordered array she shrank terrified beneath his hand. L’Ollonois, Teach and de Lussan were also in the room. By each one cowered another woman prisoner. Teach was roaring out a song, that song of London town, with its rollicking chorus:

“Though life now is pleasant and sweet to the sense,
We’ll be damnably moldy a hundred years hence.”

The room was full of plunder of one sort and another, and the buccaneers were being served by frightened negro slaves, their footsteps quickened and their obedience enforced by the sight of a dead black in one corner, whom de Lussan had knifed a short time since because he had been slow in coming to his call. The smell of spilled liquor, of burnt powder, and of blood, indescribable and sickening, hung in the close, hot air. Lamps and candles were flaring and spluttering in the room but the greater illumination came through the open casements from the roaring fires of burning houses outside. The temptation to join in the sack of the town had been too much for Hornigold’s remaining men, consequently he and those conveying Senora Agapida alone attended the prisoners. These last, after throwing the duenna recklessly upon the floor, hurried out after the rest, leaving the officers and women alone.

“Silence!” roared Morgan, as his eye fell upon the group entering the lower end of the great hall. “Pipe down, thou bellowing bull!” he shouted, throwing a silver cup that Cellini might have chased, at the head of the half drunken Teach. “Who’s there? Scuttle me, ’tis our spitfire and the gallant captain, with that worthy seaman Hornigold! Advance, friends. Thou art welcome to our cheer. Drive them forward, Hornigold,” he cried, as he saw Mercedes and Alvarado made no attempt to move.

“Advance quickly,” whispered Hornigold to Alvarado; “to cross him now were death.”

Seizing them with a great show of force he shoved them down the hall to the foot of the platform, in front of the revellers.

“I welcome thee to our court, fair lady, and you, brave sir. What say ye, gentles all? Rum for the noble captain, here, and wine for the lady,” called out Morgan, bowing over the table in malicious mockery.

“I drink with no murderer,” said Alvarado firmly, thrusting the negro, who proffered him a glass, violently aside with his shoulder, causing him to topple over, drenching himself with the liquor.

“Ha! Is it so?” laughed Morgan in a terrible manner. “Hark’ee, my young cock, thou shalt crave and beg and pray for another drink at my hand presently and get it not. But there is another cup thou shalt drink, ay, and that to the dregs. Back, you! I would speak with the lady. Well, Donna Mercedes,” he continued, “art still in that prideful mood?”

Silence. The girl stood erect, disdainfully looking him full in the face.

“I shall break thee yet, proud wench!” he shouted.

“Perhaps the demoiselle is jealous of thy present companion, Sir Captain,” sneered de Lussan smoothly in his courtliest manner.

“Scuttle me! That’s well thought on,” laughed Morgan. “And I’ll add fuel to the fire.”

As he spoke he clasped the terrified woman on his right around the waist, and though she struggled and drew away from him in horror and disgust, he kissed her full upon the lips. The woman shuddered loathingly when he released her, put her face down in her hands and sobbed low and bitterly.

“What sayest thou to that, sweet Mercedes?”

“I say may God have mercy on the soul of yon poor woman,” answered Mercedes disdainfully.

“Best pray for thine own soul, madam,” he roared. “Come hither! What, you move not? Black Dog, Black Dog, I say!”

The huge maroon lurched from behind his master’s chair, where he had lain half-drunken.

“Fetch me that woman!”

Mercedes was bound and could not at first release her hands, but as the maroon shambled toward her she sprang back struggling.

“Alvarado, Alvarado!” she screamed. “Help me, save me!”

Like a maddened bull, though his hands were bound also, Alvarado threw himself upon the negro. The force with which he struck him hurled him backward and the two fell to the floor, the maroon beneath. His head struck a corner of the step with a force that would have killed a white man. In an instant, however, the unbound negro was on his feet. He whipped out his dagger and would have plunged it into the breast of the prostrate Spaniard had not Mercedes, lightly bound, for being a woman they thought it not necessary to be unusually severe in her lashings, wrenched free her hands and caught the half-breed’s upraised arm.

“Mercy!” she screamed, while struggling to divert the blow, looking toward Morgan.

“Hold your hand, Black Dog,” answered that worthy. “Leave the man and come hither. This is thy first appeal, lady. You know my power at last, eh? Down on your knees and beg for his life!”

Instantly Mercedes sank to her knees and stretched out her hands, a piteous, appealing, lovely figure.

“Spare him, spare him!” she cried.

“What would you do for him?”

“My life for his,” she answered bravely.

“Nay, Mercedes,” interposed Alvarado, “let him work his will on me.”

“There are worse places, thou seest, lady, than by my side,” sneered Morgan. “By heaven, ’twas a pretty play, was it not, mates? I spare him, but remember, ’tis for you. Harry Morgan’s way. Now reward me. Hither, I say! Go, you woman!” he struck the woman he had kissed a fierce blow with his naked fist “Away from me! Your place is needed for your betters. Here lady ”

“Captain Morgan,” cried Hornigold, suddenly interrupting him. “I bethink me you should send men to seize the mountain pass that leads to Caracas at once, else we may have troops upon us in the morning.”

It was a bold diversion and yet it succeeded. There could be no safe feasting in La Guayra with that open road. Morgan had overlooked it, but the boatswain’s words recalled it to him; for the moment he forgot the prisoners and the women. Safety was a paramount consideration.

“I forgot it,” he answered. “Curse me, how can I? The villains are too drunk with rum and blood and fury to be despatched.”

“A force must be assembled at once,” urged Hornigold, insistently, “lest some have escaped who would bring word to the Viceroy. He would be upon us in a day with an army too great for resistance. If you intend not to rot here in La Guayra, or be caught in a death trap, we must be up to the mountain top beforehand. Once they seize the pass, we are helpless.”

“That’s well said, Hornigold,” cried Morgan, who was not so drunk that he could not realize the practical value of Hornigold’s suggestion and the great danger of disregarding his advice. “The pass must be seized at all hazard. With that in our possession we may bide our time. I thought to wait until to-morrow, but you’re right. We’ve feasted and drunk enough for the night. To-morrow Donna de Lara! Guards for the pass now But how to get them?”

He rose to his feet as he spoke and came down the hall.

“Teach and L’Ollonois, follow me!” he cried. “Gather up fifty of the soberest men and lead them up the mountain road till you reach the pass, and then hold it till I come. Nay, no hesitation,” he roared. “Canst not see the necessity? Unless we are masters of that pass we are caught like rats in a trap here in La Guayra. To-morrow or the next day we shall march up toward Caracas. Your share of the treasure and your women shall be held safe. You shall have first consideration on the other side of the mountains. Nay, I will have it so!” He stamped his foot in furious rage. “We’ve all had too much drink already,” he continued, “now we must make things secure. Hornigold, take charge of this fort. I leave the prisoners with you. Guard them well. Treat the lady well also. Do what you like with the other, only keep him alive. One of you send Braziliano to me. He shall have the other fort. And you and I, Monsieur de Lussan, will take account of the men here in the town and bring them into such order as we can.”

Although Teach and L’Ollonois had no mind to leave the pleasures open to them in La Guayra, yet they were both men of intelligence and could easily see the absolute necessity for the precaution suggested by Hornigold and accepted by their captain. If they held the passage over the mountains, and fifty men could hold it against a thousand, no Spaniard could come at them. So the little group, leaving the wretched women, the two prisoners, and Hornigold, sallied out into the infernal night. It was a difficult thing for them to find a sufficient number of sober pirates, but by persuading, threatening, and compelling they at last gathered a force of the least drunken knaves, with which they set forth on the road.

The fires which had been wantonly kindled in different places by the buccaneers were making such headway that Morgan instantly saw that especial efforts would be needed to prevent the complete destruction of the town. He wanted La Guayra for his base of supplies for the present, and with tremendous energy, seconded by de Lussan and some of the soberer men, he routed out the buccaneers and set them to work.

“You have saved me for the moment,” said Mercedes, gratefully, turning to Hornigold as he led her away from the hall.

“’Twas not for care of you,” hissed out the old man, malevolently, “but that I’d fain balk him in every desire he cherishes, even of possessing you.”

“Whatever it was, I am thankful, senor. You have my prayers ”

“Prayers,” laughed the old sailor, “it hath been sixty years since I heard those canting Puritans, my mother and father, pray. I want no prayers. But come, I must put you in ward. There should be strong-rooms in this castle.”

He summoned a slave and found what he wanted. Mercedes, and Senora Agapida, who was fetched by other slaves, were locked in one room, Alvarado was thrust into another. As soon as he could do so, after making some provision for the comfort of the woman, Hornigold came down to him.

“Senor,” he said, “the band is drunk and helpless. One hundred resolute men could master them. Morgan means to march to Caracas to-morrow. He can not get his men in shape to do so as long as liquor flows in La Guayra. If I set you free, what can you do?”

“There is a way over the mountains,” answered Alvarado. “A secret way, known only to the Indians.”

“Know you this path?”

“It has been pointed out to me.”

“Is it a practicable way?”

“It has been abandoned for fifty years, but I could follow it to Caracas.”

“And once there, what then?”

“There, if the Viceroy be not gone, and I do not believe he has yet departed, are one thousand soldiers to re-take the city.”

“And if they be gone?”

“I’ll raise the citizens, the household guards, the savages, and the slaves!”

“Can you do it?”

“Free me and see,” answered Alvarado, with such resolution that he convinced the sailor. “The men of Caracas love the daughter of the Viceroy. They are not inexperienced in arms. I will lead them. The advantage of numbers will be with us. If you free me, I take it we will have a friend within the walls. Success is certain. We have too much to revenge,” he added, his face flushing with rage at the thought of it all.

“That’s well,” answered Hornigold. “If I free you what reward shall I have?”

“I will cover you with treasure.”

“And guarantee my life and liberty?”

“They shall be held inviolate.”

“We captured the Porto Bello plate ship, and were wrecked two days ago a league or so to the westward ”

“I saw the ship the day of the storm, but marked it not,” interrupted the officer.

“Ay. We buried the treasure. Shall I have my share?”

“All that thou canst take, if the honor of the lady be preserved. I answer for the Viceroy.”

“Will you swear it?”

“Yes.”

“By your mother’s cross?”

“By my mother’s cross, I swear. I will keep my faith with you, so help me God!”

“I believe in no God, but you do, and that suffices. You shall go,” cried the buccaneer, all his objections satisfied. “But as you love the woman, lose no time. I’ll be at the west gate under the rocks at ten o’clock to-morrow night. You know it?”

“Yes, go on.”

“I’ll open the gate for you and leave the rest to you. You must be there with your force. Now, go.”

“I shall be there. But I can not leave without Donna Mercedes.”

“And you can’t go with her. Think! Could she make her way over the mountains?”

“No, no, but ”

“I’ll watch over her with my life,” urged the One-Eyed. “My share of the treasure depends upon her safety, you said.”

“But Morgan ”

“I hate him with a hatred greater than thine.”

“He is thy captain.”

“He betrayed me, and I swore to take such vengeance as was never heard before, to make him suffer such torments by my hand as were never felt outside of hell.”

“You would betray him?”

“It was for that I came with him! for that I live. He craves and covets the Donna Mercedes. He shall not have her. Trust me to interpose at the last moment.”

“Is this true? Can I believe you?”

“Else why should I jeopard my life by freeing you? I hate him, I tell you. Remember! The west gate! There are not three hundred men here. The best fifty have gone with Teach and L’Ollonois, the rest are drunken and cowards. Here are weapons. Wrap yourself in this cloak, and come. Say no word to any one on the way. By Satan, as you love the wench, lose no time!”

As he spoke, the old man cut the bonds of Alvarado, belted upon him dagger and sword, thrust a charged pistol in his hand, covered his head with a steel cap, and threw a long cloak around him. The two then went forth into the night. Avoiding the notice of others, they hastened along the deserted parapet, for there were none to keep watch or guard, until they came to one of the ladders by which the buccaneers had entered the town. Down it Alvarado, first swearing again on the cross, on his honor, to respect his agreement with Hornigold and again receiving the man’s assurance, dropped hastily to the ground.

There was no one to look, and he dashed recklessly across the narrow strip of sand to the shadow of the cliffs, along which he ran until he came opposite the place of his mother’s death. The white water was rolling and crashing on the beach, and the body was gone. With a hasty petition for the repose of her soul, he ran on until he reached the turn of the road. There, like the priest, he made another prayer, and it was a prayer not different from that which had been voiced so short a time before.

But his petitions were soon over. It was a time for work, not prayer. No moment could be lost. He girded up his loins and turned away on the run. Unlike the priest, however, he did not pursue the mountain road, but, after going a short distance, he left the way and plunged to the right through the trees directly up the side of the hill.

His face was cut and slashed by Morgan’s dagger; his soul had been racked and torn by the scenes he had gone through; the plight of Mercedes stirred him to the very depths; his heart yearned over the slaughtered garrison, the ruined town, but with a strength superhuman he plunged at the hill, in spite of the forest, groping about in the darkness with frantic energy until he found the traces of a slender, rocky path which led over the mountains.