HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY

CHAPTER XVIII

DISCLOSES THE WAY IN WHICH MERCEDES DE LARA FOUGHT WITH WOMAN’S CUNNING AGAINST CAPTAIN HENRY MORGAN

The day after the sack of the town had been a busy one for the buccaneers. First of all, Morgan had striven, and with some success, to restore some sort of order within the walls. By the aid of his officers and some of the soberest men he had confiscated all of the liquor that he could come at, and had stored it under a strong guard in the west fort, which he selected as his headquarters. The Governor’s palace on the hill above was a more fitting and luxurious residence and it had been promptly seized, the few defenders having fled, in the morning; but for the present Morgan deemed it best to remain in the city and in close touch with his men.

The Spanish soldiery had been cut down to a man the night before, and the majority of the hapless citizens had been killed, wounded or tortured. The unfortunates who were yet alive were driven into the church of San Lorenzo, where they were kept without food, water, or attention.

There were some children, also, who had survived the night, for the buccaneers, frenzied with slaughter and inflamed with rum, had tossed many of them on their sword-points when they came across them in the streets. By Morgan’s orders the living were collected in the store-house and barracks of the Guinea Trading Company, a corporation which supplied slaves to the South American countries, and which had branches in every city on the Caribbean. He did order food and water to be given these helpless unfortunates, so their condition was not quite so deplorable as that of the rest. It was bad enough, however, and the old barracks which had echoed with the sound of many a bitter cry from the forlorn lips of wretched slaves, now resounded with the wailing of these terrified little ones.

The condition of the women of the city was beyond description. They, too, were herded together in another building, an ancient convent, but were plentifully supplied with every necessary they could ask for. Death, in lieu of the fate that had come upon them, would have been welcomed by many a high-born dame and her humbler sister as well, but they were all carefully searched and deprived of everything that might serve as a weapon. They were crowded together indiscriminately, high and low, rich and poor, black or white or red, in all states of disorder and disarray, just as they had been seized the night before, some of them having been dragged from their very beds by the brutal ruffians.

Some of the women, maddened to frenzy by the treatment they had received, screamed and raved; but most of them were filled with still misery, overwhelmed by silent despair waiting hopelessly for they knew not what bitter, degrading end. One night had changed them from happy wives, honored mothers, light-hearted, innocent girls, to wrecks of womanhood. The light of life was dead in them. They were dumb and unprotesting. The worst had come upon them; there was nothing of sorrow and shame they had not tasted. What mattered anything else? Their husbands, fathers, children, lovers had gone. Homes were broken up; their property was wasted, and not even honor was left. They prayed to die. It was all that was left to them.

The gates of the town and forts were closed and some slight attempt was made to institute a patrol of the walls, although the guard that was kept was negligent to the point of contempt. As no enemy was apprehended Morgan did not rigorously insist upon strict watch. Many of the buccaneers were still sodden with liquor and could be of no service until they were sobered. They were dragged to the barracks, drenched with water, and left to recover as best they could.

Fortune favored them in one other matter, too, in that late in the afternoon a handsome frigate bringing despatches from Carthagena, ran in and anchored in the roadstead. Her officers at once came ashore to pay their respects to the Commandante of the port and forward their papers to the Viceroy. Before they suspected anything, they were seized and ruthlessly murdered. To take possession of the frigate thereafter was a work of no special difficulty. The crew were disposed of as their officers had been, and the buccaneers rejoiced greatly at the good luck that had brought them so fine a ship. On the next morning Morgan intended to march toward Caracas, whence, after plundering that town and exacting a huge ransom for the lives of those he spared, he would lead his band back to La Guayra, embark on the frigate, and then bear away for the Isthmus.

During the day, Hornigold, whose wound incapacitated him from active movement, remained in command of the fort with special instructions to look after Mercedes. By Morgan’s orders she and her companion were removed to the best room in the fort and luxuriously provided for. He had not discovered the escape of Alvarado, partly because he took no manner of interest in that young man and only kept him alive to influence the girl, and partly because Hornigold had assured him that the prisoner was taking his confinement very hardly, that he was mad with anger, in a raging fever of disappointment and anxiety, and was constantly begging to see the captain. The boatswain cunningly suggested that it would be just as well to let Alvarado remain in solitude, without food or water until the next day, by which time, the boatswain argued, he would be reduced to a proper condition of humility and servitude. Morgan found this advice good. It was quite in consonance with his desires and his practices. He would have killed Alvarado out of hand had he not considered him the most favorable card with which to play the game he was waging with Mercedes for her consent to marry him.

So far as he was capable of a genuine affection, he loved the proud Spanish maiden. He would fain persuade her willingly to come to his arms rather than enforce her consent or overcome her scruples by brute strength. There would be something of a triumph in winning her, and this vain, bloodstained old brute fancied that he had sufficient attractiveness for the opposite sex to render him invincible if he set about his wooing in the right way. He thought he knew the way, too. At any rate he was disposed to try it. Here again Hornigold, upon whom in the absence of Teach he depended more and more, and in whom he confided as of old, advised him.

“I know women,” said that worthy, and indeed no man had more knowledge of the class which stood for women in his mind than he, “and all you want is to give her time. Wait until she knows what’s happened to the rest of them, and sees only you have power to protect her, and she will come to heel right enough. Besides, you haven’t given her half a chance. She’s only seen you weapon in hand. She doesn’t know what a man you are, Captain. Sink me, if I’d your looks instead of this old, scarred, one-eyed face, there’d be no man I’d give way to and no woman I’d not win! Steer her along gently with an easy helm. Don’t jam her up into the wind all of a sudden. Women have to be coaxed. Leave the girl alone a watch. Don’t go near her; let her think what she pleases. Don’t let anybody go near her unless it’s me, and she won’t get anything out of me, you can depend upon that! She’ll be so anxious to talk to you in the morning that you can make her do anything. Then if you can starve that Spanish dog and break his spirit, so that she’ll see him crawling at your feet, she’ll sicken of him and turn to a man.”

“Scuttle me,” laughed Morgan, “your advice is good! I didn’t know you knew so much about the sex.”

“I’ve mixed up considerable with them in sixty years, Captain,” leered the old man. “What I don’t know about them ain’t worth knowing.”

“It seems so. Well, I’ll stay away from her till the morning. I shall be busy anyway trying to straighten out these drunken sots, and do you put the screws on that captain and leave the lady alone but see that she lacks nothing.”

“Ay, ay, trust me for them both.”

Hornigold found means during the day and it was a matter of no little difficulty to elude the guards he himself had placed there to inform Mercedes of the escape of Alvarado, and to advise her that he expected the return of that young man with the troops of the Viceroy at ten o’clock that night. He bade her be of good cheer, that he did not think it likely that Morgan would think of calling upon her or of sending for her until morning, when it would be too late. He promised that he would watch over her and do what he could to protect her; that he would never leave the fort except for a few moments before ten that night, when he went to admit Alvarado. What was better earnest of his purpose was that he furnished her with a keen dagger, small enough to conceal in the bosom of her dress, and advised her if worst came to worst, and there was no other way, to use it. He impressed on her that on no account was she to allow Morgan to get the slightest inkling of his communication to her, for if the chief buccaneer found this out Hornigold’s life would not be worth a moment’s thought, and Alvarado would be balked in his plans of rescue.

Mercedes most thankfully received the weapon and promised to respect the confidence. She was grateful beyond measure, and he found it necessary harshly to admonish her that he only assisted her because he had promised Alvarado that she should receive no harm, and that his own safety depended upon hers. He did not say so, but under other circumstances he would have as ruthlessly appropriated her for himself as Morgan intended to do, and without the shadow of a scruple.

As far as creature comforts were concerned the two women fared well. Indeed, they were sumptuously, lavishly, prodigally provided for. Senora Agapida was still in a state of complete prostration. She lay helpless on a couch in the apartment and ministering to her distracted the poor girl’s mind, yet such a day as Mercedes de Lara passed she prayed she might never again experience. The town was filled with the shouts and cries of the buccaneers wandering to and fro, singing drunken choruses, now and again routing out hidden fugitives from places of fancied security and torturing them with ready ingenuity whenever they were taken. The confusion was increased and the noise diversified by the shrieks and groans of these miserable wretches. Sometimes the voices that came through the high windows were those of women, and the sound of their screams made the heart of the brave girl sink like lead in her breast.

For the rest, she did not understand Hornigold’s position. She did not know whether to believe him or not, but of one thing was she certain. Whereas she had been defenceless now she had a weapon, and she could use it if necessary. With that in hand she was mistress at least of her own fate.

As evening drew on, every thing having been attended to, Morgan began to tire of his isolation, and time hung heavy on his hands. He was weary of the women whom he had hitherto consorted with; the other officers, between whom and himself there was no sort of friendship, were busy with their own nefarious wickednesses in the different parts of the fort or town, and he sat a long time alone in the guardroom, drinking, Black Dog, as usual, pouring at his side. The liquor inflamed his imagination and he craved companionship. Summoning Hornigold at last, he bade him bring Donna Mercedes before him. The old man attempted to expostulate, but Morgan’s mood had changed and he brooked no hesitation in obeying any order given by him. There was nothing for the boatswain to do but to comply.

Once more Mercedes, therefore, found herself in the guardroom of the fort in the presence of the man she loathed and feared above all others in creation. Her situation, however, was vastly different from what it had been. On the first occasion there had appeared no hope. Now Alvarado was free and she had a weapon. She glanced at the clock, a recent importation from Spain hanging upon the wall, as she entered, and saw that it was half-after nine. Ten was the hour Hornigold had appointed to meet Alvarado at the gate. She hoped that he would be early rather than late; and, if she could withstand the buccaneer by persuasion, seeming compliance, or by force, for a short space, all would be well. For she never doubted that her lover would come for her. Even if he had to come single-handed and alone to fight for her, she knew he would be there. Therefore, with every nerve strained almost to the breaking point to ward off his advances and to delay any action he might contemplate, she faced the buccaneer.

He was dressed with barbaric magnificence in the riches and plunder he had appropriated, and he had adorned his person with a profusion of silver and gold, and stolen gems. He had been seated at the table while served by the maroon, but, as she entered, with unusual complaisance he arose and bowed to her with something of the grace of a gentleman.

“Madam,” he said, endeavoring to make soft and agreeable his harsh voice, “I trust you have been well treated since in my charge.”

He had been drinking heavily she saw, but as he spoke her fair she would answer him accordingly. To treat him well, to temporize, and not to inflame his latent passion by unnecessarily crossing him, would be her best policy, she instantly divined, although she hated and despised him none the less. On his part, he had determined to try the gentler arts of persuasion, and though his face still bore the welts made by her riding whip the night before he strove to forget it and play the gentleman. He had some qualities, as a buccaneer, that might entitle him to a certain respect, but when he essayed the gentleman his performance was so futile that had it not been so terrible it would have been ludicrous. She answered his question calmly without exhibiting resentment or annoyance.

“We have been comfortably lodged and provided with food and drink in sufficiency, senor.”

“And what more would you have, Donna Mercedes?”

“Liberty, sir!”

“That shall be yours. Saving only my will, when you are married to me, you shall be as free as air. A free sailor and his free wife, lady. But will you not sit down?”

In compliance with his request, she seated herself on a chair which happened to be near where she stood; she noted with relief that the table was between them.

“Nay, not there,” said the Captain instantly. “Here, madam, here, at my side.”

“Not yet, senor capitan; it were not fit that a prisoner should occupy so high a seat of honor. Wait until ”

“Until what, pray?” he cried, leaning forward.

“Until that until I until we ”

In spite of her efforts she could not force her lips to admit the possibility of the realization of his desire.

“Until you are Lady Morgan?” he cried, his face flaming.

She buried her face in her hands at his suggestion, for she feared her horror in the thought would show too plainly there; and then because she dare not lose sight of him, she constrained herself to look at him once more. Her cheeks were burning with shame, her eyes flashing with indignation, though she forced her lips into the semblance of a smile.

“That surprises you, does it?” continued the man with boasting condescension. “You did not think I designed so to honor you after last night, madam? Scuttle me, these” pointing to his face “are fierce love taps, but I fancy a strong will when I can break it to mine own,” he muttered, “and I have yet to see that in man or woman that could resist mine.”

She noted with painful fascination the powerful movements of his lean fingers as he spoke, for his sinewy right hand, wrinkled and hideous, lay stretched out on the table before him, and he clasped and unclasped it unconsciously as he made his threat.

“I like you none the less for your spirit, ma’am. ’Fore God, it runs with your beauty. You are silent,” he continued, staring at her with red-eyed, drunken suspicion. “You do not answer?”

“My lord,” cried Mercedes, “I know not what to say.”

“Say, ‘Harry Morgan, I love you and I am yours.’”

“There is another present, senor.”

“Where? Another? Who has dared ” roared the buccaneer glaring about him.

“Thy servant the negro.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “he is nothing. Black Dog, we call him. He is my slave, my shadow, my protection. He is always by.”

An idea had swiftly flashed into the young girl’s mind. If she could get rid of the slave she could deal more easily with the master. She was tall, strong, and Morgan, it appeared, was not in full possession of his faculties or his strength from the liquor he had imbibed.

“Still,” she urged, “I do not like to be wooed in the presence of another, even though he be a slave. ’Tis not a Spanish maiden’s way, sir.”

“Your will now, lady,” said the buccaneer, with a hideous attempt at gallantry, “is my law. Afterwards ’twill be another matter. Out, Carib, but be within call. Now, madam, we are alone. Speak you the English tongue?”

The conversation had been carried on in Spanish heretofore.

“Indifferently, senor.”

“Well, I’ll teach it you. The lesson may as well begin now. Say after me, ’Harry’ I permit that though I am a belted knight of England, made so by His Merry Majesty, King Charles, God rest him. Drink to the repose of the king!” he cried, shoving a cup across the table toward her.

Resisting a powerful temptation to throw it at him, and divining that the stimulant might be of assistance to her in the trying crisis in which she found herself, the girl lifted the cup to her lips, bowed to him, and swallowed a portion of the contents.

“Give it back to me!” he shouted. “You have tasted it, I drain it. Now the lesson. Say after me, ’Harry Morgan’ ”

“Harry Morgan,” gasped the girl.

“‘I love thee.’”

With a swift inward prayer she uttered the lying words.

“You have learned well, and art an apt pupil indeed,” he cried, leering upon her in approbation and lustful desire –­ his very gaze was pollution to her. “D’ye know there are few women who can resist me when I try to be agreeable? Harry Morgan’s way!” he laughed again. “There be some that I have won and many I have forced. None like you. So you love me? Scuttle me, I thought so. Ben Hornigold was right. Woo a woman, let her be clipped willingly in arms yet there’s a pleasure in breaking in the jades, after all. Still, I’m glad that you are in a better mood and have forgot that cursed Spaniard rotting in the dungeons below, in favor of a better man, Harry no, I’ll say, Sir Henry Morgan on this occasion, at your service,” he cried, rising again and bowing to her as before.

She looked desperately at the clock. The hour was close at hand. So great was the strain under which she was laboring that she felt she could not continue five minutes longer. Would Alvarado never come? Would anybody come? She sat motionless and white as marble, while the chieftain stared at her in the pauses of his monologue.

“Now, madam, since you have spoke the words perhaps you will further wipe out the recollection of this caress ” he pointed to his cheek again. “Curse me!” he cried in sudden heat, “you are the only human being that ever struck Harry Morgan on the face and lived to see the mark. I’d thought to wait until to-morrow and fetch some starveling priest to play his mummery, but why do so? We are alone here together. There is none to disturb us. Black Dog watches. You love me, do you not?”

“I I ” she gasped out, brokenly praying for strength, and fighting for time.

“You said it once, that’s enough. Come, lady, let’s have happiness while we may. Seal the bargain and kiss away the blows.”

He came around the table and approached her. Notwithstanding the quantity of liquor he had taken he was physically master of himself, she noticed with a sinking heart. As he drew near, she sprang to her feet also and backed away from him, throwing out her left hand to ward him off, at the same time thrusting her right hand into her bosom.

“Not now,” she cried, finding voice and word in the imminence of the peril. “Oh, for God’s sake ”

“Tis useless to call on God in Harry Morgan’s presence, mistress, for he is the only God that hears. Come and kiss me, thou black beauty and then ”

“To-morrow, for Christ’s sake!” cried the girl. “I am a Christian I must have a priest not now to-morrow!”

She was backed against the wall and could go no further.

“To-night,” chuckled the buccaneer.

He was right upon her now. She thrust him, unsuspicious and unprepared, violently from her, whipped out the dagger that Hornigold had given her, and faced him boldly.

It was ten o’clock and no one had yet appeared. The struck hour reverberated through the empty room. Would Alvarado never come? Had it not been that she hoped for him she would have driven the tiny weapon into her heart at once, but for his sake she would wait a little longer.

“Nay, come no nearer!” she cried resolutely. “If you do, you will take a dead woman in your arms. Back, I say!” menacing herself with the point.

And the man noted that the hand holding the weapon did not tremble in the least.

“Thinkest thou that I could love such a man as thou?” she retorted, trembling with indignation, all the loathing and contempt she had striven to repress finding vent in her voice. “I’d rather be torn limb from limb than feel even the touch of thy polluting hand!”

“Death and fury!” shouted Morgan, struggling between rage and mortification, “thou hast lied to me then?”

“A thousand times yes! Had I a whip I’d mark you again. Come within reach and I will drive the weapon home!”

She lifted it high in the air and shook it in defiance as she spoke.

It was a frightful imprudence, for which she paid dearly, however, for the hangings parted and Carib, who had heard what had gone on, entered the room indeed, the voices of the man and woman filled with passion fairly rang through the hall. His quick eye took in the situation at once. He carried at his belt a long, heavy knife. Without saying a word, he pulled it out and threw it with a skill born of long practice, which made him a master at the game, fairly at the woman’s uplifted hand. Before either Morgan or Mercedes were aware of his presence they heard the whistle of the heavy blade through the air. At the same moment the missile struck the blade of the dagger close to the palm of the woman and dashed it from her hand. Both weapons rebounded from the wall from the violence of the blow and fell at Morgan’s feet.

Mercedes was helpless.

“Well done, Carib!” cried Morgan exultantly. “Never has that old trick of thine served me better. Now, you she-devil I have you in my power. Didst prefer death to Harry Morgan? Thou shalt have it, and thy lover, too. I’ll tear him limb from limb and in thy presence, too, but not until after ”

“Oh, God! oh, God!” shrieked Mercedes, flattening herself against the wall, shrinking from him with wide outstretched arms as he approached her. “Mercy!”

“I know not that word. Wouldst cozen me? Hast another weapon in thy bodice? I’ll look.”

Before she could prevent him he seized her dress at the collar with both hands and, in spite of her efforts, by a violent wrench tore it open.

“No weapon there,” he cried. “Ha! That brings at last the color to your pale cheek!” he added, as the rich red crimsoned the ivory of her neck and cheek at this outrage.

“Help, help!” she screamed. Her voice rang high through the apartment with indignant and terrified appeal.

“Call again,” laughed Morgan.

“Kill me, kill me!” she begged.

“Nay, you must live to love me! Ho! ho!” he answered, taking her in his arms.

“Mercy! Help!” she cried in frenzy, all the woman in her in arms against the outrage, though she knew her appeal was vain, when, wonder of wonders

“I heard a lady’s voice,” broke upon her ears from the other end of the room.

“De Lussan!” roared Morgan, releasing her and turning toward the intruder. “Here’s no place for you. How came you here? I’d chosen this room for myself, I wish to be private. Out of it, and thank me for your life!”

“I know not why you should have Donna de Lara against her will, and when better men are here,” answered the Frenchman, staring with bold, cruel glances at her, beautiful in her disarray, “and if you keep her you must fight for her. Mademoiselle,” he continued, baring his sword gracefully and saluting her, “will you have me for your champion?”

His air was as gallant as if he had been a gentleman and bound in honor to rescue a lady in dire peril of life and honor, instead of another ruffian inflamed by her beauty and desirous to possess her himself.

“Save me! Save me,” she cried, “from this man!”

She did not realize the meaning of de Lussan’s words, she only saw a deliverer for the present. It was ten minutes past the hour now. She welcomed any respite; her lover might come at any moment.

“I will fight the both of you for her,” cried the Frenchman; “you, Black Dog, and you, Master Morgan. Draw, unless you are a coward.”

“I ought to have you hanged, you mutinous hound!” shouted Morgan, “and hanged you shall be, but not until I have proved myself your master with the sword, as in all other things. Watch the woman, Carib, and keep out of this fray. Lay hand on her at your peril! Remember, she is mine.”

“Or it may be mine,” answered de Lussan, as Morgan dashed at him.

They engaged without hesitation and the room was filled with the sound of ringing, grating steel. First pulling the pins from her glorious hair, Mercedes shook it down around her bare shoulders, and then stood, fascinated, watching the fencers. She could make no movement from the wall as the negro stood at her arm. For a space neither of the fighters had any advantage. De Lussan’s skill was marvelous, but the chief buccaneer was more than his match. Presently the strength and capacity of the older and more experienced swordsman began to give him a slight advantage. Hard pressed, the Frenchman, still keeping an inexorable guard, slowly retreated up the room.

Both men had been so intensely occupied with the fierce play that they had not heard the sound of many feet outside, a sudden tumult in the street. The keen ear of the half-breed, however, detected that something was wrong.

“Master,” he cried, “some one comes. I hear shouts in the night air. A shot! Shrieks groans! There! The clash of arms! Lower your weapons, sirs!” he cried again, as Spanish war cries filled the air. “We are betrayed; the enemy is on us!”

Instantly Morgan and de Lussan broke away from each other.

“To-morrow,” cried the buccaneer captain.

“As you will,” returned the other.

But now, Mercedes, staking all upon her hope, lifted her voice, and with tremendous power begot by fear and hope sent ringing through the air that name which to her meant salvation

“Alvarado! Alvarado!”

CHAPTER XIX

HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO CROSSED THE MOUNTAINS, FOUND THE VICEROY, AND PLACED HIS LIFE IN HIS MASTER’S HANDS

The highway between La Guayra and Venezuela was exceedingly rough and difficult, and at best barely practicable for the stoutest wagons. The road wound around the mountains for a distance of perhaps twenty-five miles, although as the crow flies it was not more than five miles between the two cities. Between them, however, the tremendous ridge of mountains rose to a height of nearly ten thousand feet. Starting from the very level of the sea, the road crossed the divide through a depression at an altitude of about six thousand feet and descended thence some three thousand feet to the valley in which lay Caracas.

This was the road over which Alvarado and Mercedes had come and on the lower end of which they had been captured. It was now barred for the young soldier by the detachment of buccaneers under young Teach and L’Ollonois, who were instructed to hold the pass where the road crossed through, or over, the mountains. Owing to the configuration of the pass, that fifty could hold it against a thousand. It was not probable that news of the sack of La Guayra would reach Caracas before Morgan descended upon it, but to prevent the possibility, or to check any movement of troops toward the shore, it was necessary to hold that road. The man who held it was in position to protect or strike either city at will. It was, in fact, the key to the position.

Morgan, of course, counted upon surprising the unfortified capital as he had the seaport town. It was the boast of the Spaniards that they needed no walls about Caracas, since nature had provided them with the mighty rampart of the mountain range, which could not be surmounted save in that one place. With that one place in the buccaneer’s possession, Caracas could only rely upon the number and valor of her defenders. To Morgan’s onslaught could only be opposed a rampart of blades and hearts. Had there been a state of war in existence it is probable that the Viceroy would have fortified and garrisoned the pass, but under present conditions nothing had been done. As soon as a messenger from Teach informed Morgan that the pass had been occupied and that all seemed quiet in Caracas, a fact which had been learned by some bold scouting on the farther side of the mountain, he was perfectly easy as to the work of the morrow. He would fall upon the unwalled town at night and carry everything by a coup de main.

Fortunately for the Spaniards in this instance, it happened that there was another way of access to the valley of Caracas from La Guayra. Directly up and over the mountain there ran a narrow and difficult trail, known first to the savages and afterwards to wandering smugglers or masterless outlaws. Originally, and until the Spaniards made the wagon road, it had been the only way of communication between the two towns. But the path was so difficult and so dangerous that it had long since been abandoned, even by the classes which had first discovered and traveled it. These vagabonds had formerly kept it in such a state of repair that it was fairly passable, but no work had been done on it for nearly one hundred years. Indeed, in some places, the way had been designedly obliterated by the Spanish Government about a century since, after one of the most daring exploits that ever took place in the new world.

Ninety years before this incursion by the buccaneers, a bold English naval officer, Sir Amyas Preston, after seizing La Guayra, had captured Caracas by means of this path. The Spaniards, apprised of his descent upon their coasts, had fortified the mountain pass but had neglected this mountain trail, as a thing impracticable for any force. Preston, however, adroitly concealing his movements, had actually forced his men to ascend the trail. The ancient chroniclers tell of the terrific nature of the climb, how the exhausted and frightened English sailors dropped upon the rocks, appalled by their dangers and worn out by their hardships, how Preston and his officers forced them up at the point of the sword until finally they gained the crest and descended into the valley. They found the town unprotected, for all its defenders were in the pass, seized it, held it for ransom, then, sallying forth, took the surprised Spanish troops in the pass in the rear and swept them away.

After this exploit some desultory efforts had been made by the Spaniards to render the trail still more impracticable with such success as has been stated, and it gradually fell into entire disuse. By nearly all the inhabitants its very existence had been forgotten.

It was this trail that Alvarado determined to ascend. The difficulties in his way, even under the most favorable circumstances, might well have appalled the stoutest-hearted mountaineer. In the darkness they would be increased a thousand-fold. He had not done a great deal of mountain climbing, although every one who lived in Venezuela was more or less familiar with the practice; but he was possessed of a cool head, an unshakable nerve, a resolute determination, and unbounded strength, which now stood him in good stead. And he had back of him, to urge him, every incentive in the shape of love and duty that could move humanity to godlike deed.

Along the base of the mountain the trail was not difficult although it was pitch-dark under the trees which, except where the mighty cliffs rose sheer in the air like huge buttresses of the range, covered the mountains for the whole expanse of their great altitude, therefore he made his way upward without trouble or accident at first. The moon’s rays could not pierce the density of the tropic foliage, of course, but Alvarado was very familiar with this easier portion of the way, for he had often traversed it on hunting expeditions, and he made good progress for several hours in spite of the obscurity.

It had been long past midnight when he started, and it was not until daybreak that he passed above the familiar and not untrodden way and entered upon the most perilous part of his journey. The gray dawn revealed to him the appalling dangers he must face.

Sometimes clinging with iron grasp to pinnacles of rock, he swung himself along the side of some terrific precipice, where the slightest misstep meant a rush into eternity upon the rocks a thousand feet below. Sometimes he had to spring far across great gorges in the mountains that had once been bridged by mighty trunks of trees, long since moldered away. Sometimes there was nothing for him to do but to scramble down the steep sides of some dark canyon and force himself through cold torrential mountain streams that almost swept him from his feet. Again his path lay over cliffs green with moss and wet with spray, which afforded most precarious support to his grasping hands or slipping feet. Sometimes he had to force a way through thick tropic undergrowth that tore his clothing into rags.

Had he undertaken the ascent in a mere spirit of adventure he would have turned back long since from the dangers he met and surmounted with such hardship and difficulty; but he was sustained by the thought of the dreadful peril of the woman he loved, the remembrance of the sufferings of the hapless townspeople, and a consuming desire for revenge upon the man who had wrought this ruin on the shore. With the pale, beautiful face of Mercedes to lead him, and by contrast the hateful, cruel countenance of Morgan to force him, ever before his vision, the man plunged upward with unnatural strength, braving dangers, taking chances, doing the impossible and Providence watched over him.

It was perhaps nine o’clock in the morning when he reached the summit breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed and looked down on the white city of Caracas set in its verdant environment like a handful of pearls in a goblet of emerald. He had wondered if he would be in time to intercept the Viceroy, and his strained heart leaped in his tired breast when he saw, a few miles beyond the town on the road winding toward the Orinoco country, a body of men. The sunlight blazing from polished helms or pointed lance tips proclaimed that they were soldiers. He would be in time, thank God!

With renewed vigor, he scrambled down the side of the mountain and this descent fortunately happened to be gentle and easy and running with headlong speed, he soon drew near the gate of the palace. He dashed into it with reckless haste, indifferent to the protests of the guard, who did not at first recognize in the tattered, bloody, wounded, soiled specimen of humanity his gay and gallant commander. He made himself known at once, and was confirmed in his surmise that the Viceroy had set forth with his troops early in the morning and was still in reaching distance on the road.

Directing the best horse in the stables to be brought to him, after snatching a hasty meal while it was being saddled, and not even taking time to re-clothe himself, he mounted and galloped after. An hour later he burst through the ranks of the little army and reined in his horse before the astonished Viceroy, who did not recognize in this sorry cavalier his favorite officer, and stern words of reproof for the unceremonious interruption of the horseman broke from his lips until they were checked by the first word from the young captain.

“The buccaneers have taken La Guayra and sacked it!” gasped Alvarado hoarsely.

“Alvarado!” cried the Viceroy, recognizing him as he spoke. “Are you mad?”

“Would God I were, my lord.”

“The buccaneers?”

“Morgan all Spain hates him with reason led them!”

“Morgan! That accursed scourge again in arms? Impossible! I don’t understand!”

“The very same! ’Tis true! ’tis true! Oh, your Excellency ”

“And my daughter ”

“A prisoner! For God’s love turn back the men!”

“Instantly!” cried the Viceroy.

He was burning with anxiety to hear more, but he was too good a soldier to hesitate as to the first thing to be done. Raising himself in his stirrups he gave a few sharp commands and the little army, which had halted when he had, faced about and began the return march to Caracas at full speed. As soon as their manoeuvres had been completed and they moved off, the Viceroy, who rode at the head with Alvarado and the gentlemen of his suite, broke into anxious questioning.

“Now, Captain, but that thou art a skilled soldier I could not believe thy tale.”

“My lord, I swear it is true!”

“And you left Donna Mercedes a prisoner?” interrupted de Tobar, who had been consumed with anxiety even greater than that of the Viceroy.

“Alas, ’tis so.”

“How can that be when you are free, senor?”

“Let me question my own officer, de Tobar,” resumed the Viceroy peremptorily, “and silence, all, else we learn nothing. Now, Alvarado. What is this strange tale of thine?”

“My lord, after we left you yesterday morning we made the passage safely down the mountain. Toward evening as we approached La Guayra, just before the point where the road turns into the strand, we were set upon by men in ambush. The soldiers and attendants were without exception slain. Although I fought and beat down one or two of our assailants, they struck me to the earth and took me alive. The two ladies and I alone escaped. No indignity was offered them. I was bound and we were led along the road to a camp. There appeared to be some three hundred and fifty men under the leadership of a man who claimed to be Sir Henry Morgan, sometime pirate and robber, later Vice-Governor of Jamaica, now, as I gathered, in rebellion against his king and in arms against us. They captured the plate galleon with lading from Porto Bello and Peru, and were wrecked on this coast to the westward of La Guayra. They had determined upon the capture of that town, whence they expected to move on Caracas.”

“And Mercedes?” again interrupted the impetuous and impassioned de Tobar.

“Let him tell his tale!” commanded the Viceroy, sternly. “It behooves us, gentlemen, to think first of the cities of our King.”

“They had captured a band of holy nuns and priests. These were forced, especially the women, by threats you can imagine, to plant scaling ladders against the walls, and, although the troops made a brave defense, the buccaneers mastered them. They carried the place by storm and sacked it. When I left it was burning in several places and turned into a hell.”

“My God!” ejaculated the old man, amid the cries and oaths of his fierce, infuriated men. “And now tell me about Mercedes.”

“Morgan who met her, you remember, when we stopped at Jamaica on our return from Madrid?”

“Yes, yes!”

“He is in love with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Therefore he kept her from the soldiery.”

In his eagerness the Viceroy reined in his horse, and the officers and men, even the soldiers, stopped also and crowded around the narrator.

“Did he did he O Holy Mother have pity upon me!” groaned the Viceroy.

“He did her no violence save to kiss her, while I was by.”

“And you suffered it!” shouted de Tobar, beside himself with rage.

“What did she then?” asked the old man, waving his hand for silence.

“She struck him in the face again and again with her riding-whip. I was bound, senors. I broke my bonds, struck down one of the guards, wrested a sword from another, and sprang to defend her. But they overpowered me. Indeed, they seized the lady and swore to kill her unless I dropped my weapon.”

“Death,” cried de Lara, “would have been perhaps a fitting end for her. What more?”

“We were conveyed into the city after the sack. He insulted her again with his compliments and propositions. He sent a slave to fetch her, but, bound as I was, I sprang upon him and beat him down.”

“And then?”

“Then one of his men, an ancient, one-eyed sailor, interfered and bade him look to the town, else it would be burned over his head, and urged him to secure the pass. In this exigency the pirate desisted from his plan against the lady. He sent Donna Mercedes to a dungeon, me to another.”

“How came you here, sir, and alone?” asked de Tobar, again interrupting, and this time the Viceroy, pitying the agony of the lover, permitted the question. “Did you, a Spanish officer, leave the lady defenseless amid those human tigers?”

“There was nothing else to do, Don Felipe. The sailor who interfered, he set me free. I did refuse to leave without the senorita. He told me I must go without her or not at all. He promised to protect her honor or to kill her at least to furnish her with a weapon. To go, to reach you, your Excellency, was the only chance for her. Going, I might save her; staying, I could only die.”

“You did rightly. I commend you,” answered the veteran. “Go on.”

“My lord, I thank you. The way over the road was barred by the party that had seized the pass.”

“And how came you?”

“Straight over the mountain, sir.”

“What! The Indian trail? The English way?”

“The same.”

“What next?”

“At ten to-night, the sailor who released me will open the city gate, the west gate, beneath the shadow of the cliffs we must be there!”

“But how? Can we take the pass? It is strongly held, you say.”

“My lord, give me fifty brave men who will volunteer to follow me. I will lead them back over the trail and we will get to the rear of the men holding the pass. Do you make a feint at engaging them in force in front and when their attention is distracted elsewhere we will fall on and drive them into your arms. By this means we open the way. Then we will post down the mountains with speed and may arrive in time. Nay, we must arrive in time! Hornigold, the sailor, would guarantee nothing beyond to-night. The buccaneers are drunk with liquor; tired out with slaughter. They will suspect nothing. We can master the whole three hundred and fifty of them with five score men.”

“Alvarado,” cried the Viceroy, “thou hast done well. I thank thee. Let us but rescue my daughter and defeat these buccaneers and thou mayest ask anything at my hands saving one thing. Gentlemen and soldiers, you have heard the plan of the young captain. Who will volunteer to go over the mountains with him?”

Brandishing their swords and shouting with loud acclaim the great body of troopers pressed forward to the service. Alvarado, who knew them all, rapidly selected the requisite number, and they fell in advance of the others. Over them the young captain placed his friend de Tobar as his second in command.

“’Tis bravely done!” cried the Viceroy. “Now prick forward to the city, all. We’ll refresh ourselves in view of the arduous work before us and then make our further dispositions.”

The streets of Caracas were soon full of armed men preparing for their venture. As soon as the plight of La Guayra and the Viceroy’s daughter became known there was scarcely a civilian, even, who did not offer himself for the rescue. The Viceroy, however, would take only mounted men, and of these only tried soldiers. Alvarado, whom excitement and emotion kept from realizing his fatigue, was provided with fresh apparel, after which he requested a private audience for a moment or two with the Viceroy, and together they repaired to the little cabinet which had been the scene of the happenings the night before.

“Your Excellency,” began the young man, slowly, painfully, “I could not wait even the hoped-for happy issue of our plans to place my sword and my life in your hands.”

“What have you done?” asked the old man, instantly perceiving the seriousness of the situation from the anguish in his officer’s look and voice.

“I have broken my word forfeited my life.”

“Proceed.”

“I love the Donna Mercedes ”

“You promised to say nothing to do nothing.”

“That promise I did not keep.”

“Explain.”

“There is nothing to explain. I was weak it was beyond my strength. I offer no excuse.”

“You urge nothing in extenuation?”

“Nothing.”

“’Twas deliberately done?”

“Nay, not that; but I ”

“S’death! What did you?”

“I told her that I loved her, again ”

“Shame! Shame!”

“I took her into my arms once more ”

“Thou double traitor! And she ”

“My lord, condemn her not. She is young a woman.”

“I do not consider Captain Alvarado, a dishonored soldier, my proper mentor. I shall know how to treat my daughter. What more?”

“Nothing more. We abandoned ourselves to our dream, and at the first possible moment I am come to tell you all to submit ”

“Hast no plea to urge?” persisted the old man.

“None.”

“But your reason? By God’s death, why do you tell me these things? If thou art base enough to fall, why not base enough to conceal?”

“I could not do so, your Excellency. I am not master of myself when she is by ’tis only when away from her I see things in their proper light. She blinds me. No, sir,” cried the unhappy Alvarado, seeing a look of contempt on the grim face of the old general, “I do not urge this in defense, but you wanted explanation.”

“Nothing can explain the falsehood of a gentleman, the betrayal of a friend, the treachery of a soldier.”

“Nothing hence I am here.”

“Perhaps I have estimated you too highly,” went on the old man musingly. “I had hoped you were gentle but base blood must run in your veins.”

“It may be,” answered the young man brokenly, and then he added, as one detail not yet told, “I have found my mother, sir.”

“Thy mother? What is her condition?” cried the Viceroy, in curious and interested surprise that made him forget his wrath and contempt for the moment.

“She was an abbess of our Holy Church. She died upon the sands of La Guayra by her own hand rather than surrender her honor or lend aid to the sack of the town.”

“That was noble,” interrupted the old de Lara. “I may be mistaken after all. Yet ’twere well she died, for she will not see ”

He paused significantly.

“My shame?” asked Alvarado.

“Thy death, senor, for what you have done. No other punishment is meet. Did Donna Mercedes send any message to me?”

Alvarado could not trust himself to speak. He bowed deeply.

“What was it?”

The young man stood silent before him.

“Well, I will learn from her own lips if she be alive when we come to the city. I doubt not it will excuse thee.”

“I seek not to shelter myself behind a woman.”

“That’s well,” said the old man. “But now, what is to be done with thee?”

“My lord, give me a chance, not to live, but to die honestly. Let me play my part this day as becomes a man, and when Donna Mercedes is restored to your arms ”

“Thou wilt plead for life?”

“Nay, as God hears me, I will not live dishonored. Life is naught to me without the lady. I swear to thee ”

“You have given me your word before, sir,” said the old man sternly.

“On this cross it was my mother’s,” he pulled from his doublet the silver crucifix and held it up. “I will yield my life into your hands without question then, and acclaim before the world that you are justified in taking it. Believe me ”

“Thou didst betray me once.”

“But not this time. Before God by Christ, His Mother, by my own mother, dead upon the sands, by all that I have hoped for, by my salvation, I swear if I survive the day I will go gladly to my death at your command!”

“I will trust you once more, thus far. Say naught of this to any one. Leave me!”

“Your Excellency,” cried the young man, kneeling before him, “may God reward you!”

He strove to take the hand of the old man, but the latter drew it away.

“Even the touch of forsworn lips is degradation. You have your orders. Go!”

Alvarado buried his face in his hands, groaned bitterly, and turned away without another word.

CHAPTER XX

WHEREIN MASTER TEACH, THE PIRATE, DIES BETTER THAN HE LIVED

It was nearing eleven o’clock in the morning when, after a hurried conference in the patio with the Viceroy and the others, Alvarado and de Tobar marched out with their fifty men. They had discarded all superfluous clothing; they were unarmored and carried no weapons but swords and pistols. In view of the hard climb before them and the haste that was required, they wished to be burdened as lightly as possible. Their horses were brought along in the train of the Viceroy’s party which moved out upon the open road to the pass at the same time. These last went forward with great ostentation, the forlorn hope secretly, lest some from the buccaneers might be watching.

The fifty volunteers were to ascend the mountain with all speed, make their way along the crest as best they could, until they came within striking distance of the camp of the pirates. Then they were to conceal themselves in the woods there and when the Viceroy made a feigned attack with the main body of his troops from the other side of the mountain, they were to leave their hiding-place and fall furiously upon the rear of the party. Fortunately, they were not required to ascend such a path as that Alvarado had traversed on the other side, for there were not fifty men in all Venezuela who could have performed that tremendous feat of mountaineering. The way to the summit of the range and thence to the pass was difficult, but not impossible, and they succeeded after an hour or two of hard climbing in reaching their appointed station, where they concealed themselves in the woods, unobserved by Teach’s men.

The Viceroy carried out his part of the programme with the promptness of a soldier. Alvarado’s men had scarcely settled themselves in the thick undergrowth beneath the trees whence they could overlook the buccaneers in camp on the road below them, before a shot from the pirate sentry who had been posted toward Caracas called the fierce marauders to arms. They ran to the rude barricade they had erected covering the pass and made preparation for battle. Soon the wood was ringing with shouts and cries and the sound of musketry.

Although Teach was a natural soldier and L’Ollonois an experienced and prudent commander, they took no precaution whatever to cover their rear, for such a thing as an assault from that direction was not even dreamed of.

Alvarado and de Tobar, therefore, led their men forward without the slightest opposition. Even the noise they made crashing through the undergrowth was lost in the sound of the battle, and attracted no attention from the enemy. It was not until they burst out into the open road and charged forward, cheering madly, that the buccaneers realized their danger. Some of them faced about, only to be met by a murderous discharge from the pistols of the forlorn hope, and the next moment the Spaniards were upon them. The party holding the pass were the picked men, veterans, among the marauders. They met the onset with tremendous courage and crossed blades in the smoke like men, but at the same instant the advance guard of the main army sprang at the barricade and assaulted them vigorously from the other side. The odds were too much for the buccaneers, and after a wild melee in which they lost heavily, the survivors gave ground.

The road immediately below the pass opened on a little plateau, back of which rose a precipitous wall of rock. Thither such of the buccaneers as were left alive hastily retreated. There were perhaps a dozen men able to use their weapons; among them Teach was the only officer. L’Ollonois had been cut down by de Tobar in the first charge. The Spaniards burst through the pass and surrounded the buccaneers. The firearms on both sides had all been discharged, and in the excitement no one thought of reloading; indeed, with the cumbersome and complicated weapons then in vogue there was no time, and the Spaniards, who had paid dearly for their victory, so desperate had been the defence of the pirates, were fain to finish this detachment in short order.

“Yield!” cried Alvarado, as usual in the front ranks of his own men. “You are hopelessly overmatched,” pointing with dripping blade to his own and the Viceroy’s soldiers as he spoke.

“Shall we get good quarter?” called out Teach.

A splendid specimen he looked of an Englishman at bay, in spite of his wicked calling, standing with his back against the towering rock, his bare and bloody sword extended menacingly before him, the bright sunlight blazing upon his sunny hair, his blue eyes sparkling with battle-lust and determined courage. Quite the best of the pirates, he!

“You shall be hung like the dogs you are,” answered Alvarado sternly.

“We’d rather die sword in hand, eh, lads?”

“Ay, ay.”

“Come on, then, senors,” laughed the Englishman gallantly, saluting with his sword, “and see how bravely we English can die when the game is played and we have lost.”

Though his cause was bad and his life also, his courage was magnificent. Under other circumstances it would have evoked the appreciation of Alvarado and some consideration at his hands. Possibly he might even have granted life to the man, but memory of the sights of the night before in that devastated town six thousand feet below their feet, and the deadly peril of his sweetheart banished pity from his soul. This man had been the right hand of Morgan; he was, after the captain, the ablest man among the buccaneers. He must die, and it would be a mercy to kill him out of hand, anyway.

“Forward, gentlemen!” he cried, and instantly the whole mass closed in on the pirates. Such a fight as Teach and his men made was marvellous. For each life the Spaniards took the pirates exacted a high price, but the odds were too great for any human valor, however splendid, to withstand, and in a brief space the last of the buccaneers lay dying on the hill.

Teach was game to the last. Pierced with a dozen wounds, his sword broken to pieces, he lifted himself on his elbow, and with a smile of defiance gasped out the brave chorus of the song of the poet of London town:

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

“Tell Morgan,” he faltered, “we did not betray faithful to the end ”

And so he died as he had lived.

“A brave man!” exclaimed de Tobar with some feeling in his voice.

“But a black-hearted scoundrel, nevertheless,” answered Alvarado sternly. “Had you seen him last night ”

“Ye have been successful, I see, gentlemen,” cried the Viceroy, riding up with the main body. “Where is Alvarado?”

“I am here, your Excellency.”

“You are yet alive, senor?”

“My work is not yet complete,” answered the soldier, “and I can not die until I Donna Mer ”

“Bring up the led horses,” interrupted the Viceroy curtly. “Mount these gentlemen. Let the chirurgeons look to the Spanish wounded.”

“And if there be any buccaneers yet alive?” asked one of the officers.

“Toss them over the cliff,” answered the Viceroy; “throw the bodies of all the carrion over, living or dead. They pollute the air. Form up, gentlemen! We have fully twenty-five miles between us and the town which we must reach at ten of the clock. ’Twill be hard riding. Alvarado, assemble your men and you and de Tobar lead the way, I will stay farther back and keep the main body from scattering. We have struck a brave blow first, and may God and St. Jago defend us further. Forward!”

CHAPTER XXI

THE RECITAL OF HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO AND DON FELIPE DE TOBAR CAME TO THE RESCUE IN THE NICK OF TIME

Old Hornigold had kept his promise, and Alvarado had kept his as well. It was a few minutes before ten when the first Spanish horsemen sprang from their jaded steeds at the end of the road. In that wild race down the mountains, Alvarado had ridden first with de Tobar ever by his side. None had been able to pass these two. The Viceroy had fallen some distance behind. For one reason, he was an old man, and the pace set by the lovers was killing. For another and a better, as he had said, he thought it desirable to stay somewhat in the rear to keep the men closed up; but the pace even of the last and slowest had been a tremendous one. Sparing neither themselves nor their horses, they had raced down the perilous way. Some of them had gone over the cliffs to instant destruction; others had been heavily thrown by the stumbling horses. Some of the horses had given out under the awful gallop and had fallen exhausted, but when the riders were unhurt they had joined the foot soldiers marching after the troopers as fast they could.

Alvarado’s soldierly instincts had caused him to halt where the road opened upon the sand, for he and de Tobar and the two or three who kept near them could do nothing alone. They were forced to wait until a sufficient force had assembled to begin the attack. He would have been there before the appointed time had it not been for this imperative delay, which demonstrated his capacity more than almost anything else could have done, for he was burning to rush to the rescue of Mercedes.

Indeed, he had been compelled to restrain by force the impetuous and undisciplined de Tobar, who thought of nothing but the peril of the woman he adored. There had been a fierce altercation between the two young men before the latter could be persuaded that Alvarado was right. Each moment, however, added to the number of the party. There was no great distance between the first and last, and after a wait of perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, some one hundred and fifty horsemen were assembled. The Viceroy had not come up with the rest, but they were sure he would be along presently, and Alvarado would wait no longer.

Bidding the men dismount lest they should be observed on horseback, and stationing one to acquaint the Viceroy with his plans, he divided his troop into three companies, he and de Tobar taking command of one and choosing the nearest fort as their objective point. Captain Agramonte, a veteran soldier, was directed to scour the town, and Lieutenant Nunez, another trusted officer, was ordered to master the eastern fort on the other side. They were directed to kill every man whom they saw at large in the city, shooting or cutting down every man abroad without hesitation, for Alvarado rightly divined that all the inhabitants would be penned up in some prison or other and that none would be on the streets except the buccaneers. There were still enough pirates in the city greatly to outnumber his force, but many of them were drunk and all of them, the Spaniard counted, would be unprepared. The advantage of the surprise would be with his own men. If he could hold them in play for twenty minutes the Viceroy with another detachment would arrive, and thereafter the end would be certain. They could take prisoners then and reserve them for torture and death some meet punishment for their crimes.

Those necessary preparations were made with the greatest speed, the men were told off in their respective companies, and then, keeping close under the shadow of the cliff for fear of a possible watcher, they started forward.

Since ten old Ben Hornigold had been hidden in an arched recess of the gateway waiting their arrival. He had thought, as the slow minutes dragged by, that Alvarado had failed, and he began to contrive some way by which he could account for his escape to Morgan in the morning, when the captain would ask to have him produced, but the arrival of the Spaniards relieved his growing anxiety.

“Donna Mercedes?” asked Alvarado of the old boatswain, as he entered the gate.

“Safe when I left her in the guardroom with Morgan and armed. If you would see her alive ”

“This way ” cried Alvarado, dashing madly along the street toward the fort.

Every man had his weapons in hand, and the little party had scarcely gone ten steps before they met a buccaneer. He had been asleep when he should have watched, and had just been awakened by the sound of their approach. He opened his mouth to cry out, but Alvarado thrust his sword through him before he could utter a sound. The moonlight made the street as light as day, and before they had gone twenty steps farther, turning the corner, they came upon a little party of the pirates. An immediate alarm was given by them. The Spaniards brushed them aside by the impetuosity of their onset, but on this occasion pistols were brought in play. Screams and cries followed the shots, and calls to arms rang through the town.

But by this time the other companies were in the city, and they were making terrible havoc as they ran to their appointed stations. The buccaneers came pouring from the houses, most of them arms in hand. It could not be denied that they were ready men. But the three attacks simultaneously delivered bewildered them. The streets in all directions seemed full of foes. The advantage of the surprise was with the Spanish. The pirates were without leadership for the moment and ran aimlessly to and fro, not knowing where to rally; yet little bands did gather together instinctively, and these began to make some headway against the Spanish soldiery. Even the cowards fought desperately, for around every neck was already the feel of a halter.

Alvarado and de Tobar soon found themselves detached from their company. Indeed, as the time progressed and the buccaneers began to perceive the situation they put up a more and more stubborn and successful opposition. They rallied in larger parties and offered a stout resistance to the Spanish charges. Disregarding their isolation, the two young officers ran to the fort. Fortunately the way in that direction was not barred. The solitary sentry at the gateway attempted to check them, but they cut him down in an instant. As they mounted the stair they heard, above the shrieks and cries and shots of the tumult that came blowing in the casement with the night wind, the sound of a woman’s screams.

“Mercedes!” cried de Tobar. “It is she!”

They bounded up the stairs, overthrowing one or two startled men who would have intercepted them, and darted to the guardroom. They tore the heavy hangings aside and found themselves in a blaze of light in the long apartment. Two men confronted them. Back of the two, against the wall, in a piteous state of disorder and terror, stood the woman they both loved. In front of her, knife in hand, towered the half-breed.

“Treason, treason!” shouted Morgan furiously. “We are betrayed! At them, de Lussan!”

As he spoke the four men crossed swords. De Tobar was not the master of the weapon that the others were. After a few rapid parries and lunges the Frenchman had the measure of his brave young opponent. Then, with a laugh of evil intent, by a clever play he beat down the Spaniard’s guard, shattering his weapon, and with a thrust as powerful as it was skilful, he drove the blade up to the hilt in poor de Tobar’s bosom. The gallant but unfortunate gentleman dropped his own sword as he fell, and clasped his hands by a convulsive effort around the blade of de Lussan. Such was the violence of his grasp that he fairly hugged the sword to his breast, and when he fell backward upon the point the blade snapped. He was done for.

Morgan and Alvarado, on the other hand, were more equally matched. Neither had gained an advantage, although both fought with energy and fury. Alvarado was silent, but Morgan made the air ring with shouts and cries for his men. As the swords clashed, Carib raised his hand to fling his knife at Alvarado, but, just as the weapon left his fingers, Mercedes threw herself upon him. The whizzing blade went wild. With a savage oath he seized a pistol and ran toward the Spaniard, who was at last getting the better of the Captain. A cry from Mercedes warned Alvarado of this new danger. Disengaging suddenly, he found himself at sword’s point with de Lussan, who had withdrawn his broken weapon from de Tobar’s body and was menacing him with it. With three opponents before him he backed up against the wall and at last gave tongue.

“To me!” he cried loudly, hoping some of his men were within call. “Alvarado!”

As he spoke Morgan closed with him once more, shouting:

“On him, de Lussan! Let him have it, Black Dog! We’ve disposed of one!”

As the blades crossed again, the desperate Spaniard, who was a swordsman of swordsmen, put forth all his power. There was a quick interchange of thrust and parry, and the weapon went whirling from the hand of the chief buccaneer. Quick as thought Alvarado shortened his arm and drove home the stroke. Morgan’s life trembled in the balance. The maroon, however, who had been seeking a chance to fire, threw himself between the two men and received the force of the thrust full in the heart. His pistol was discharged harmlessly. He fell dead at his master’s feet without even a groan. No more would Black Dog watch behind the old man’s chair. He had been faithful to his hideous leader and his hideous creed. Before Alvarado could recover his guard, de Lussan struck him with his broken sword. The blow was parried by arm and dagger, but the force of it sent the Spaniard reeling against the wall. At the same instant Morgan seized a pistol and snapped it full in his face. The weapon missed fire, but the buccaneer, clutching the barrel, beat him down with a fierce blow.

“So much for these two,” he roared. “Let’s to the street.”

De Lussan seized Alvarado’s sword, throwing away his own. Morgan picked up his own blade again, and the two ran from the room.

A stern fight was being waged in the square, whither all the combatants had congregated, the buccaneers driven there, the Spaniards following. The disciplined valor and determination of the Spanish, however, were slowly causing the buccaneers to give ground. No Spanish soldiers that ever lived could have defeated the old-time buccaneers, but these were different, and their best men had been killed with Teach and L’Ollonois. The opportune arrival of Morgan and de Lussan, however, put heart in their men. Under the direction of these two redoubtable champions they began to make stouter resistance.

The battle might have gone in their favor if, in the very nick of time, the Viceroy himself and the remainder of the troops had not come up. They had not thought it necessary to come on foot since the surprise had been effected, and the Viceroy rightly divined they would have more advantage if mounted. Choosing the very freshest horses therefore, he had put fifty of the best soldiers upon them and had led them up on a gallop, bidding the others follow on with speed. The fighting had gradually concentrated before the church and in the eastern fort, where Braziliano had his headquarters. The arrival of the horsemen decided the day. Morgan and de Lussan, fighting desperately in the front ranks with splendid courage, were overridden. De Lussan was wounded, fell, and was trampled to death by the Spanish horsemen, and Morgan was taken prisoner, alive and unharmed. When he saw that all was lost, he had thrown himself upon the enemy, seeking a death in the fight, which, by the Viceroy’s orders, was denied him. Many of the other buccaneers also were captured alive; indeed, the Viceroy desired as many of them saved as possible. He could punish a living man in a way to make him feel something of the torture he had inflicted, and for this reason those who surrendered had been spared for the present.

Indeed, after the capture of Morgan the remaining buccaneers threw down their arms and begged for mercy. They might as well have appealed to a stone wall for that as to their Spanish captors. A short shrift and a heavy punishment were promised them in the morning. Meanwhile, after a brief struggle, the east fort was taken by assault, and Braziliano was wounded and captured with most of his men. The town was in the possession of the Spanish at last. It was all over in a quarter of an hour.

Instantly the streets were filled with a mob of men, women, and children, whose lives had been spared, bewildered by the sudden release from their imminent peril and giving praise to God and the Viceroy and his men. As soon as he could make himself heard in the confusion de Lara inquired for Alvarado.

“Where is he?” he cried. “And de Tobar?”

“My lord,” answered one of the party, “we were directed to take the west fort and those two cavaliers were in the lead, but the pressure of the pirates was so great that we were stopped and have not seen them since. They were ahead of us.”

“De Cordova,” cried the old man to one of his colonels, “take charge of the town. Keep the women and children and inhabitants together where they are for the present. Let your soldiery patrol the streets and search every house from top to bottom. Let no one of these ruffianly scoundrels escape. Take them alive. We’ll deal with them in the morning. Fetch Morgan to the west fort after us. Come, gentlemen, we shall find our comrades there, and pray God the ladies have not yet are still unharmed!”

A noble old soldier was de Lara. He had not sought his daughter until he had performed his full duty in taking the town.

The anteroom of the fort they found in a state of wild confusion. The dead bodies of the sentry and the others the two cavaliers had cut down on the stairs were ruthlessly thrust aside, and the party of gentlemen with the Viceroy in the lead poured into the guardroom. There, on his back, was stretched the hideous body of the half-breed where he had fallen. There, farther away, the unfortunate de Tobar lay, gasping for breath yet making no outcry. He was leaning on his arm and staring across the room, with anguish in his face not due to the wound he had received but to a sight which broke his heart.

“Alas, de Tobar!” cried the Viceroy. “Where is Mercedes?”

He followed the glance of the dying man. There at the other side of the room lay a prostrate body, and over it bent a moaning, sobbing figure. It was Mercedes.

“Mercedes!” cried the Viceroy running toward her. “Alvarado!”

“Tell me,” he asked in a heartbreaking voice. “Art thou ”

“Safe yet and well,” answered the girl; “they came in the very nick of time. Oh, Alvarado, Alvarado!” she moaned.

“Senorita,” cried one of the officers, “Don Felipe here is dying. He would speak with you.”

Mercedes suffered herself to be led to where de Tobar lay upon the floor. One of his comrades had taken his head on his knee. The very seconds of his life were numbered. Lovely in her grief Mercedes knelt at his side, a great pity in her heart. The Viceroy stepped close to him.

“I thank you, too,” she said. “Poor Don Felipe, he and you saved me, but at the expense of your lives. Would God you could have been spared!”

“Nay,” gasped the dying man, “thou lovest him. I watched thee. I heard thee call upon his name. Thou wert not for me, and so I die willingly. He is a noble gentleman. Would he might have won thee!”

The man trembled with the violent effort it cost him to speak. He gasped faintly and strove to smile. By an impulse for which she was ever after grateful, she bent her head, slipped her arm around his neck, lifted him up, and kissed him. In spite of his death agony, at that caress he smiled up at her.

“Now,” he murmured, “I die happy content you kissed me Jesu Mercedes ”

It was the end of as brave a lover, as true a cavalier as ever drew sword or pledged hand in a woman’s cause.

“He is dead,” said the officer.

“God rest his soul, a gallant gentleman,” said the Viceroy, taking off his hat, and his example was followed by every one in the room.

“And Captain Alvarado?” said Mercedes, rising to her feet and turning to the other figure.

“Senorita,” answered another of the officers, “he lives.”

“Oh, God, I thank Thee!”

“See he moves!”

A little shudder crept through the figure of the prostrate Captain, who had only been knocked senseless by the fierce blow and was otherwise unhurt.

“His eyes are open! Water, quick!”

With skilled fingers begot by long practice the cavalier cut the lacings of Alvarado’s doublet and gave him water, then a little wine. As the young Captain returned to consciousness, once more the officers crowded around him, the Viceroy in the centre, Mercedes on her knees again.

“Mercedes,” whispered the young Captain. “Alive unharmed?”

“Yes,” answered Mercedes brokenly, “thanks to God and thee.”

“And de Tobar,” generously asserted Alvarado. “Where is he?”

“Dead.”

“Oh, brave de Tobar! And the city ”

“Is ours.”

“And Morgan?”

“Here in my hands,” said the Viceroy sternly.

“Thank God, thank God! And now, your Excellency, my promise. I thought as I was stricken down there would be no need for you to ”

“Thou hast earned life, Alvarado, not death, and thou shalt have it.”

“Senors,” said Alvarado, whose faintness was passing from him, “I broke my plighted word to the Viceroy and Don Felipe de Tobar. I love this lady and was false to my charge. Don Alvaro promised me death for punishment, and I crave it. I care not for life without ”

“And did he tell thee why he broke his word?” asked Mercedes, taking his hands in her own and looking up at her father. “It was my fault. I made him. In despair I strove to throw myself over the cliff on yonder mountain and he caught me in his arms. With me in his arms Which of you, my lords,” she said, throwing back her head with superb pride, “would not have done the same? Don Felipe de Tobar is dead. He was a gallant gentleman, but I loved him not. My father, you will not part us now?”

“No,” said the old man, “I will not try. I care not now what his birth or lineage, he hath shown himself a man of noblest soul. You heard the wish of de Tobar. It shall be so. This is the betrothal of my daughter, gentlemen. Art satisfied, Captain? She is noble enough, she hath lineage and race enough for both of you. My interest with our royal master will secure you that patent of nobility you will adorn, for bravely have you won it.”

CHAPTER XXII

IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN SEES A CROSS, CHERISHES A HOPE, AND MAKES A CLAIM

These noble and generous words of the Viceroy put such heart into the young Spanish soldier that, forgetting his wounds and his weakness, he rose to his feet. Indeed, the blow that struck him down had stunned him rather than anything else, and he would not have been put out of the combat so easily had it not been that he was exhausted by the hardships of those two terrible days through which he had just passed. The terrific mountain climb, the wild ride, the fierce battle, his consuming anxiety for the woman he loved these things had so wearied him that he had been unequal to the struggle. The stimulants which had been administered to him by his loving friends had been of great service also in reviving his strength, and he faced the Viceroy, his hand in that of Mercedes, with a flush of pleasure and pride upon his face.

Yet, after all, it was the consciousness of having won permission to marry the woman whom he adored and who loved him with a passion that would fain overmatch his own, were that possible, that so quickly restored him to strength. With the realization of what he had gained there came to him such an access of vigor as amazed those who a few moments before had thought him dead or dying.

“But for these poor people who have so suffered, this, my lord,” he exclaimed with eager gratitude and happiness, “hath been a happy day for me. Last night, sir, on the beach yonder, I found a mother. A good sister, she, of Holy Church, who, rather than carry the ladders which gave access to the town, with the fearful alternative of dishonor as a penalty for refusal, killed herself with her own hand. She died not, praise God, before she had received absolution from a brave priest, although the holy father paid for his office with his life, for Morgan killed him. To-night I find, by the blessing of God, the favor of your Excellency and the kindness of the lady’s heart a wife.”

He dropped upon his knees as he spoke and pressed a long, passionate kiss upon the happy Mercedes’ extended hand.

“Lady,” he said, looking up at her, his soul in his eyes, his heart in his voice, “I shall strive to make myself noble for thee, and all that I am, and shall be, shall be laid at thy feet.”

“I want not more than thyself, Senor Alvarado,” answered the girl bravely before them all, her own cheeks aglow with happy color. “You have enough honor already. You satisfy me.”

“Long life to Donna de Lara and Captain Alvarado!” cried old Agramonte, lifting up his hand. “The handsomest, the noblest, the bravest pair in New Spain! May they be the happiest! Give me leave, sir,” added the veteran captain turning to the Viceroy. “You have done well. Say I not true, gentlemen? And as for the young captain, as he is fit to stand with the best, it is meet that he should win the heart of the loveliest. His mother he has found. None may know his father ”

“Let me be heard,” growled a deep voice in broken Spanish, as the one-eyed old sailor thrust himself through the crowd.

“Hornigold, by hell!” screamed the bound buccaneer captain, who had been a silent spectator of events from the background. “I missed you. Have you ”

The boatswain, mindful of his safety, for in the hurry and confusion of the attack any Spaniard would have cut him down before he could explain, had followed hard upon the heels of Alvarado and de Tobar when they entered the fort and had concealed himself in one of the inner rooms until he saw a convenient opportunity for disclosing himself. He had been a witness to all that had happened in the hall, and he realized that the time had now come to strike the first of the blows he had prepared against his old captain. That in the striking, he wrecked the life and happiness of those he had assisted for his own selfish purpose mattered little to him. He had so long brooded and thought upon one idea, so planned and schemed to bring about one thing, that a desire for revenge fairly obsessed him.

As soon as he appeared from behind the hangings where he had remained in hiding, it was evident to every one that he was a buccaneer. Swords were out in an instant.

“What’s this?” cried the Viceroy in great surprise. “Another pirate free and unbound? Seize him!”

Three or four of the men made a rush toward the old buccaneer, but with wonderful agility he avoided them and sprang to the side of Alvarado.

“Back, senors!” he cried coolly and composedly, facing their uplifted points.

“My lord,” said Alvarado, “bid these gentlemen withdraw their weapons. This man is under my protection.”

“Who is he?”

“He I told you of, sir, who set me free, provided Donna Mercedes with a weapon, opened the gate for us. One Benjamin Hornigold.”

“Thou damned traitor!” yelled that fierce, high voice on the outskirts of the crowd.

There was a sudden commotion. A bound man burst through the surprised cavaliers and threw himself, all fettered though he was, upon the sailor. He was without weapon or use of hand, yet he bit him savagely on the cheek.

“Hell!” he cried, as they pulled him away and dragged him to his feet, “had I a free hand for a second you’d pay! As it is, I’ve marked you, and you’ll carry the traitor’s brand until you die! Curse you, whatever doom comes to me, may worse come to you!”

The old buccaneer was an awful figure, as he poured out a horrible torrent of curses and imprecations upon the traitor, grinding his teeth beneath his foam-flecked lips, and even the iron-hearted sailor, striving to staunch the blood, involuntarily shrank back appalled before him.

“Senor,” he cried, appealing to Alvarado, “I was to have protection!”

“You shall have it,” answered the young soldier, himself shrinking away from the traitor, although by his treason he had so greatly benefited. “My lord, had it not been for this man, I’d still be a prisoner, the lady Mercedes like those wretched women weeping in the streets. I promised him, in your name, protection, immunity from punishment, and liberty to depart with as much of the treasure of the Porto Bello plate galleon, which was wrecked on the sands a few days ago, of which I told you, as he could carry.”

“And you did not exceed your authority, Captain Alvarado. We contemn treason in whatsoever guise it doth appear, and we hate and loathe a traitor, but thy word is passed. It will be held inviolate as our own. You are free, knave. I will appoint soldiers to guard you, for should my men see you, not knowing this, they would cut you down; and when occasion serves you may take passage in the first ship that touches here and go where you will. Nay, we will be generous, although we like you not. We are much indebted to you. We have profited by what we do despise. We would reward you. Ask of me something that I may measure my obligation for a daughter’s honor saved, if you can realize or feel what that may be.”

“My lord, hear me,” said the boatswain quickly. “There be reasons and reasons for betrayals, and I have one. This man was my captain. I perilled my life a dozen times to save his; I followed him blindly upon a hundred terrible ventures; I lived but for his service. My soul when I had a soul was at his command; I loved him. Ay, gentlemen, rough, uncouth, old though I am, I loved this man. He could ask of me anything that I could have given him and he would not have been refused.

“Sirs, there came to me a young brother of mine, not such as I, a rude, unlettered sailor, but a gentleman and college bred. There are quarterings on my family scutcheon, sirs, back in Merry England, had I the wit or care to trace it. He was a reckless youth, chafing under the restraints of that hard religion to which we had been born. The free life of a brother-of-the-coast attracted him. He became like me, a buccaneer. I strove to dissuade him, but without avail. He was the bravest, the handsomest, the most gallant of us all. He came into my old heart like a son. We are not all brute, gentlemen. I have waded in blood and plunder like the rest, but in every heart there is some spot that beats for things better. I divided my love between him and my captain. This man” he pointed to his old master with his blunted finger, drawing himself up until he looked taller than he was, his one eye flashing with anger and hatred, as with a stern, rude eloquence he recited his wrongs, the grim indictment of a false friend “this man betrayed us at Panama. With what he had robbed his comrades of he bought immunity, even knighthood, from the King of England. He was made Vice-Governor of Jamaica and his hand fell heavily upon those who had blindly followed him in the old days, men who had served him and trusted him, as I men whose valor and courage had made him what he was.

“He took the lad I loved, and because his proud spirit would not break to his heavy hand and he answered him like the bold, free sailor he was, he hanged him like a dog, sirs! I I stooped for his life. I, who cared not for myself, offered to stand in his place upon the gallows platform, though I have no more taste for the rope than any of you, if only he might go free. He laughed at me! He mocked me! I urged my ancient service he drove me from him with curses and threats like a whipped dog. I could have struck him down then, but that I wanted to save him for a revenge that might measure my hate, slow and long and terrible. Not mere sudden death, that would not suffice. Something more.

“Treachery? My lord, his was the first. I played his own game and have overcome it with the same. D’ye blame me now? Take your treasure! I want none of it. I want only him and my revenge! Liberty’s dear to all of us. I’ll give mine up. You may take my life with the rest, but first give me this man. Let me deal with him. I will revenge you all, and when I have finished with him I will yield myself to you.”

He was a hideous figure of old hate and rancor, of unslaked passion, of monstrous possibilities of cruel torture. Hardened as they were by the customs of their age to hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, the listeners turned cold at such an exhibition of malefic passion, of consuming hatred. Even Morgan himself, intrepid as he was, shrank from the awful menace of the mordant words.

“My lord!” shouted the unfortunate captain, “give him no heed. He lies in his throat; he lies a thousand times. ’Twas a mutinous dog, that brother of his, that I hanged. I am your prisoner. You are a soldier. I look for speedy punishment, certain death it may be, but let it not be from his hand.”

“Think, senors,” urged the boatswain; “you would hang him perhaps. It is the worst that you could do. Is that punishment meet for him? He has despoiled women, bereft children, tortured men, in the streets of La Guayra. A more fitting punishment should await him. Think of Panama, of Maracaïbo, of Porto Bello! Recall what he did there. Is hanging enough? Give him to me. Let me have my way. You have your daughter, safe, unharmed, within the shelter of her lover’s arms. The town is yours. You have won the fight. ’Twas I that did it. Without me your wives, your children, your subjects, would have been slaughtered in Caracas and this dog would have been free to go further afield for prey. He coveted your daughter would fain make her his slave in some desert island. Give him to me!”

“Old man,” said the Viceroy, “I take back my words. You have excuse for your betrayal, but your request I can not grant. I have promised him to Alvarado. Nay, urge me no further. My word is passed.”

“Thank you, thank you!” cried Morgan, breathing again.

“Silence, you dog!” said the Viceroy, with a look of contempt on his face. “But take heart, man,” he added, as he saw the look of rage and disappointment sweep over the face of the old sailor, “he will not escape lightly. Would God he had blood enough in his body to pay drop by drop for all he hath shed. His death shall be slow, lingering, terrible. You have said it, and you shall see it, too, and you will. He shall have time to repent and to think upon the past. You may glut yourself with his suffering and feed fat your revenge. ’Twill be a meet, a fitting punishment so far as our poor minds can compass. We have already planned it.”

“You Spanish hounds!” roared Morgan stoutly, “I am a subject of England. I demand to be sent there for trial.”

“You are an outlaw, sir, a man of no country, a foe to common humanity, and taken in your crimes. Silence, I say!” again cried the old man. “You pollute the air with your speech. Take him away and hold him safe. To-morrow he shall be punished.”

“Without a trial?” screamed the old buccaneer, struggling forward.

“Thou art tried already. Thou hast been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Alvarado, art ready for duty?”

“Ready, your Excellency,” answered the young man, “and for this duty.”

“Take him then, I give him into your hands. You know what is to be done; see you do it well.”

“Ay, my lord. Into the strong-room with him, men!” ordered the young Spaniard, stepping unsteadily forward.

As he did so the crucifix he wore, which the disorder in his dress exposed to view, flashed into the light once more. Morgan’s eyes fastened upon it for the first time.

“By heaven, sir!” he shouted. “Where got ye that cross?”

“From his mother, noble captain,” interrupted Hornigold, coming closer.

He had another card to play. He had waited for this moment, and he threw back his head with a long, bitter laugh. There was such sinister, such vicious mockery and meaning in his voice, with not the faintest note of merriment to relieve it, that his listeners looked aghast upon him.

“His mother?” cried Morgan. “Then this is ”

He paused. The assembled cavaliers, Mercedes, and Alvarado stood with bated breath waiting for the terrible boatswain’s answer.

“The boy I took into Cuchillo when we were at Panama,” said Hornigold in triumph.

“And my son!” cried the old buccaneer with malignant joy.

A great cry of repudiation and horror burst from the lips of Alvarado. The others stared with astonishment and incredulity written on their faces. Mercedes moved closer to her lover and strove to take his hand.

“My lords and gentlemen, hear me,” continued the buccaneer, the words rushing from his lips in his excitement, for in the new relationship he so promptly and boldly affirmed, he thought he saw a way of escape from his imminent peril. “There lived in Maracaïbo a Spanish woman, Maria Zerega, who loved me. By her there was a child mine a boy. I took them with me to Panama. The pestilence raged there after the sack. She fell ill, and as she lay dying besought me to save the boy. I sent Hornigold to her with instructions to do her will, and he carried the baby to the village of Cuchillo with that cross upon his breast and left him. We lost sight of him. There, the next day, you found him. He has English blood in his veins. He is my son, sirs, a noble youth,” sneered the old man. “Now you have given me to him. ’Tis not meet that the father should suffer at the hands of the son. You shall set me free,” added the man, turning to Alvarado.

“Rather than that ” cried Hornigold, viciously springing forward knife in hand.

He was greatly surprised at the bold yet cunning appeal of his former captain.

“Back, man!” interposed the Viceroy. “And were you a thousand times his father, were you my brother, my own father, you should, nevertheless, die, as it hath been appointed.”

“Can this be true?” groaned Alvarado, turning savagely to Hornigold.

“I believe it to be.”

“Why not kill me last night then?”

“I wanted you for this minute. ’Tis a small part of my revenge. To see him die and by his son’s hand A worthy father, noble son ”

“Silence!” shouted de Lara. “Art thou without bowels of compassion, man! Alvarado, I pity thee, but this makes the promise of the hour void. Nay, my daughter” as Mercedes came forward to entreat him “I’d rather slay thee with my own hand than wed thee to the son of such as yon!”

“My lord, ’tis just,” answered Alvarado. His anguish was pitiful to behold. “I am as innocent of my parentage as any child, yet the suffering must be mine. The sins of the fathers are visited on the children. I did deem it yesterday a coward’s act to cut the thread of my life but now I cannot survive I cannot live and know that in my veins runs the blood of such a monster. My lord, you have been good to me. Gentlemen, you have honored me. Mercedes, you have loved me O God! You, infamous man, you have fathered me. May the curse of God, that God whom you mock, rest upon you! My mother loved this man once, it seems. Well, nobly did she expiate. I go to join her. Pray for me. Stay not my hand. Farewell!”

He raised his poniard.

“Let no one stop him,” cried the old Viceroy as Alvarado darted the weapon straight at his own heart. “This were the best end.”

Mercedes had stood dazed during this conversation, but with a shriek of horror, as she saw the flash of the blade, she threw herself upon her lover, and strove to wrench the dagger from him.

“Alvarado!” she cried, “whatever thou art, thou hast my heart! Nay, slay me first, if thou wilt.”

CHAPTER XXIII

HOW THE GOOD PRIEST FRA ANTONIO DE LAS CASAS TOLD THE TRUTH, TO THE GREAT RELIEF OF CAPTAIN ALVARADO AND DONNA MERCEDES, AND THE DISCOMFITURE OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD AND SIR HENRY MORGAN

“Ay, strike, Alvarado,” cried the Viceroy, filled with shame and surprise at the sight of his daughter’s extraordinary boldness, “for though I love her, I’d rather see her dead than married to the son of such as he. Drive home your weapon!” he cried in bitter scorn. “Why stay your hand? Only blood can wash out the shame she hath put upon me before you all this day. Thou hast a dagger. Use it, I say!”

“Do you hear my father’s words, Alvarado?” cried Mercedes sinking on her knees and stretching up her hands to him. “’Tis a sharp weapon. One touch will end it all, and you can follow.”

“God help me!” cried the unhappy young Captain, throwing aside the poniard and clasping his hands to his eyes. “I cannot! Hath no one here a point for me? If I have deserved well of you or the State, sir, bid them strike home.”

“Live, young sir,” interrupted Morgan, “there are other women in the world. Come with me and ”

“If you are my father, you have but little time in this world,” interrupted the Spaniard, turning to Morgan and gnashing his teeth at him. “I doubt not but you were cruel to my mother. I hate you! I loathe you! I despise you for all your crimes! And most of all for bringing me into the world. I swear to you, had I the power, I’d not add another moment to your life. The world were better rid of you.”

“You have been well trained by your Spanish nurses,” cried Morgan resolutely, although with sneering mockery and hate in his voice, “and well you seem to know the duty owed by son to sire.”

“You have done nothing for me,” returned the young soldier, “you abandoned me. Such as you are you were my father. You cast me away to shift for myself. Had it not been for these friends here ”

“Nay,” said Morgan, “I thought you dead. That cursed one-eyed traitor there told me so, else I’d sought you out.”

“Glad am I that you did not, for I have passed my life where no child of yours could hope to be among honorable men, winning their respect, which I now forfeit because of thee.”

“Alvarado,” said the Viceroy, “this much will I do for thee. He shall be shot like a soldier instead of undergoing the punishment we had designed for him. This much for his fatherhood.”

“My lord, I ask it not,” answered the young man.

“Sir,” exclaimed Morgan, a gleam of relief passing across his features, for he knew, of course, that death was his only expectation, and he had greatly feared that his taking off would be accompanied by the most horrible tortures that could be devised by people who were not the least expert in the practice of the unmentionable cruelties of the age, “you, at least, are a father, and I thank you.”

“Yes, I am a father and a most unhappy one,” groaned de Lara, turning toward Alvarado. “Perhaps it is well you did not accomplish your purpose of self-destruction after all, my poor friend. As I said before, Spain hath need of you. You may go back to the old country beyond the great sea. All here will keep your secret; my favor will be of service to you even there. You can make a new career with a new name.”

“And Mercedes?” asked Alvarado.

“You have no longer any right to question. Ah, well, it is just that you should hear. The girl goes to a convent; the only cloak for her is in our Holy Religion and so ends the great race of de Laras!”

“No, no,” pleaded Mercedes, “send me not there! Let me go with him!” She stepped nearer to him, beautiful and beseeching. “My father,” she urged, “you love me.” She threw her arms around his neck and laid her head upon his breast. Upon it her father tenderly pressed his hand. “You loved my mother, did you not?” she continued. “Think of her. Condemn me not to the living death of a convent away from him. If that man be his father and I can not believe it, there is some mistake, ’tis impossible that anything so foul should bring into the world a man so noble yet I love him! You know him. You have tried him a thousand times. He has no qualities of his base ancestry. His mother at least died like a Spanish gentlewoman. My lords, gentlemen, some of you have known me from my childhood. You have lived in our house and have followed the fortunes of my father you have grown gray in our service. Intercede for me!”

“Your Excellency,” said old Don Cæsar de Agramonte, a man, who, as Mercedes had said, had literally grown gray in the service of the Viceroy, and who was man of birth scarcely inferior to his own, “the words of the Lady Mercedes move me profoundly. By your grace’s leave, I venture to say that she hath spoken well and nobly, and that the young Alvarado, whom we have seen in places that try men’s souls to the extreme, hath always comported himself as a Spanish gentleman should. This may be a lie. But if it is true, his old association with you and yours, and some humor of courage and fidelity and gentleness that I doubt not his mother gave him, have washed out the taint. Will you not reconsider your words? Give the maiden to the man. I am an old soldier, sir, and have done you some service. I would cheerfully stake my life to maintain his honor and his gentleness at the sword’s point.”

“He speaks well, Don Alvaro,” cried Captain Gayoso, another veteran soldier. “I join my plea to that of my comrade, Don Cæsar.”

“And I add my word, sir.”

“And I, mine.”

“And I, too,” came from the other men of the suite.

“Gentlemen, I thank you,” said Alvarado, gratefully looking at the little group; “this is one sweet use of my adversity. I knew not I was so befriended ”

“You hear, you hear, my father, what these noble gentlemen say?” interrupted Mercedes.

“But,” continued Alvarado sadly, “it is not meet that the blood of the princely de Laras should be mingled with mine. Rather the ancient house should fall with all its honors upon it than be kept alive by degradation. I thank you, but it can not be.”

“Your Excellency, we humbly press you for an answer,” persisted Agramonte.

“Gentlemen and you have indeed proven yourselves generous and gentle soldiers I appreciate what you say. Your words touch me profoundly. I know how you feel, but Alvarado is right. I swear to you that I would rather let my line perish than keep it in existence by such means. Rather anything than that my daughter should marry forgive me, lad the bastard son of a pirate and buccaneer, a wicked monster, like that man!”

“Sir,” exclaimed a thin, faint old voice from the outskirts of the room, “no base blood runs in the veins of that young man. You are all mistaken.”

“Death and fury!” shouted Morgan, who was nearer to him, “it is the priest! Art alive? Scuttle me, I struck you down I do not usually need to give a second blow.”

“Who is this?” asked de Lara. “Back, gentlemen, and give him access to our person.”

The excited men made way for a tall, pale, gaunt figure of a man clad in the habit of a Dominican. As he crossed his thin hands on his breast and bowed low before the Viceroy, the men marked a deeply scarred wound upon his shaven crown, a wound recently made, for it was still raw and open. The man tottered as he stood there.

“’Tis the priest!” exclaimed Hornigold, who had been a silent and disappointed spectator of the scene at last. “He lives then?”

“The good father!” said Mercedes, stepping from her father’s side and scanning the man eagerly. “He faints! A chair for him, gentlemen, and wine!”

“Now, sir,” said the Viceroy as the priest seated himself on a stool which willing hands had placed for him, after he had partaken of a generous draught of wine, which greatly refreshed him, “your name?”

“Fra Antonio de Las Casas, your Excellency, a Dominican, from Peru, bound for Spain on the plate galleon, the Almirante Recalde, captured by that man. I was stricken down by his blow as I administered absolution to the mother of the young captain. I recovered and crawled into the woods for concealment, and when I saw your soldiers, your Excellency, I followed, but slowly, for I am an old man and sore wounded.”

“Would that my blow had bit deeper, thou false priest!” roared Morgan in furious rage.

“Be still!” commanded the old Viceroy sternly. “Speak but another word until I give you leave and I’ll have you gagged! You said strange words, Holy Father, when you came into the hall.”

“I did, my lord.”

“You heard ”

“Some of the conversation, sir, from which I gathered that this unfortunate man” pointing to Morgan, who as one of the chief actors in the transaction had been placed in the front rank of the circle, although tightly bound and guarded by the grim soldiers “claimed to be the father of the brave young soldier.”

“Ay, and he hath established the claim,” answered de Lara.

“Nay, my lord, that can not be.”

“Why not, sir,” interrupted Alvarado, stepping forward.

“Because it is not true.”

“Thank God, thank God!” cried Alvarado. Indeed, he almost shouted in his relief.

“How know you this?” asked Mercedes.

“My lady, gentles all, I have proof irrefutable. He is not the child of that wicked man. His father is ”

“I care not who,” cried Alvarado, having passed from death unto life in the tremendous moments, “even though he were the meanest and poorest peasant, so he were an honest man.”

“My lord,” said the priest, “he was a noble gentleman.”

“I knew it, I knew it!” cried Mercedes. “I said it must be so.”

“Ay, a gentleman, a gentleman!” burst from the officers in the room.

“Your Excellency,” continued the old man, turning to the Viceroy. “His blood is as noble as your own.”

“His name?” said the old man, who had stood unmoved in the midst of the tumult.

“Captain Alvarado that was,” cried the Dominican, with an inborn love of the dramatic in his tones, “stand forth. My lord and lady, and gentles all, I present to you Don Francisco de Guzman, the son of his excellency, the former Governor of Panama and of his wife, Isabella Zerega, a noble and virtuous lady, though of humbler walk of life and circumstance than her husband.”

“De Guzman! De Guzman!” burst forth from the soldiers.

“It is a lie!” shouted Hornigold. “He is Morgan’s son. He was given to me as such. I left him at Cuchillo. You found him, sir ”

He appealed to the Viceroy.

“My venerable father, with due respect to you, sir, we require something more than your unsupported statement to establish so great a fact,” said the Viceroy deliberately, although the sparkle in his eyes belied his calm.

“Your grace speaks well,” said Morgan, clutching at his hope still.

“I require nothing more. I see and believe,” interrupted Mercedes.

“But I want proof,” sternly said her father.

“And you shall have it,” answered the priest. “That cross he wears ”

“As I am about to die!” exclaimed Morgan, “I saw his mother wear it many a time, and she put it upon his breast.”

“Not this one, sir,” said Fra Antonio, “but its fellow. There were two sisters in the family of Zerega. There were two crosses made, one for each. In an evil hour the elder sister married you ”

“We did, indeed, go through some mockery of a ceremony,” muttered Morgan.

“You did, sir, and ’twas a legal one, for when you won her by what means I know not, in Maracaïbo you married her. You were forced to do so before you received her consent. One of my brethren who performed the service told me the tale. After you took her away from Maracaïbo her old father, broken hearted at her defection, sought asylum in Panama with the remaining daughter, and there she met the Governor, Don Francisco de Guzman. He loved her, he wooed and won her, and at last he married her, but secretly. She was poor and humble by comparison with him; she had only her beauty and her virtue for her dower, and there were reasons why it were better the marriage should be concealed for a while.

“A child was born. You were that child, sir. Thither came this man with his bloody marauders. In his train was his wretched wife and her own boy, an infant, born but a short time before that of the Governor. De Guzman sallied out to meet them and was killed at the head of his troops. They burned Panama and turned that beautiful city into a hell like unto La Guayra. I found means to secrete Isabella de Guzman and her child. The plague raged in the town. This man’s wife died. He gave command to Hornigold to take the child away. He consulted me, as a priest whose life he had spared, as to what were best to do with him, and I advised Cuchillo, but his child died with its mother before it could be taken away.

“Isabella de Guzman was ill. I deemed it wise to send her infant away. I urged her to substitute her child for the dead body of the other, intending to provide for its reception at Cuchillo, and she gave her child to the sailor. In the confusion and terror it must have been abandoned by the woman to whom it was delivered; she, it was supposed, perished when the buccaneers destroyed the place out of sheer wantonness when they left Panama. I fell sick of the fever shortly after and knew not what happened. The poor mother was too seriously ill to do anything. It was months ere we recovered and could make inquiries for the child, and then it had disappeared and we found no trace of it. You, sir,” pointing to Hornigold, “had gone away with the rest. There was none to tell us anything. We never heard of it again and supposed it dead.”

“And my child, sir priest?” cried Morgan. “What became of it?”

“I buried it in the same grave with its poor mother with the cross on its breast. May God have mercy on their souls!”

“A pretty tale, indeed,” sneered the buccaneer.

“It accounts in some measure for the situation,” said the Viceroy, “but I must have further proof.”

“Patience, noble sir, and you shall have it. These crosses were of cunning construction. They open to those who know the secret. There is room in each for a small writing. Each maiden, so they told me, put within her own cross her marriage lines. If this cross hath not been tampered with it should bear within its recess the attestation of the wedding of Francisco de Guzman and Isabella Zerega.”

“The cross hath never left my person,” said Alvarado, “since I can remember.”

“And I can bear testimony,” said the Viceroy, “that he hath worn it constantly since a child. Though it was large and heavy I had a superstition that it should never leave his person. Know you the secret of the cross?”

“I do, for it was shown me by the woman herself.”

“Step nearer, Alvarado,” said de Lara.

“Nay, sir,” said the aged priest, as Alvarado came nearer him and made to take the cross from his breast, “thou hast worn it ever there. Wear it to the end. I can open it as thou standest.”

He reached up to the carven cross depending from the breast of the young man bending over him.

“A pretty story,” sneered Morgan again, “but had I aught to wager, I’d offer it with heavy odds that that cross holds the marriage lines of my wife.”

“Thou wouldst lose, sir, for see, gentlemen,” cried the priest, manipulating the crucifix with his long, slender fingers and finally opening it, “the opening! And here is a bit of parchment! Read it, sir.”

He handed it to the Viceroy. The old noble, lifting it to the light, scanned the closely-written, faded lines on the tiny scrap of delicate parchment.

“’Tis a certificate of marriage of ” He paused.

“Maria Zerega,” said Morgan, triumphantly.

“Nay,” answered the old man, and his triumph rung in his voice, “of Isabella Zerega and Francisco de Guzman.”

“Hell and fury!” shouted the buccaneer, “’tis a trick!”

“And signed by ”

He stopped again, peering at the faded, almost illegible signature.

“By whom, your Excellency?” interrupted the priest smiling.

“’Tis a bit faded,” said the old man, holding it nearer.
“Fra An tonio! Was it thou?”

“Even so, sir. I married the mother, as I buried her yester eve upon the sand.”

“’Tis a fact established,” said the Viceroy, satisfied at last. “Don Francisco de Guzman, Alvarado that was, thy birth and legitimacy are clear and undoubted. There by your side stands the woman you have loved. If you wish her now I shall be honored to call you my son.”

“My lord,” answered Alvarado, “that I am the son of an honorable gentleman were joy enough, but when thou givest me Donna Mercedes ”

He turned, and with a low cry the girl fled to his arms. He drew her close to him and laid his hand upon her head, and then he kissed her before the assembled cavaliers, who broke into enthusiastic shouts and cries of happy approbation.

“There’s more evidence yet,” cried the priest, thrusting his hand into the bosom of his habit and drawing forth a glittering object. “Sir, I took this from the body of Sister Maria Christina, for upon my advice she entered upon the service of the Holy Church after her bereavement, keeping her secret, for there was naught to be gained by its publication. That Church she served long and well. Many sufferers there be to whom she ministered who will rise up and call her blessed. She killed herself upon the sands rather than give aid and comfort to this man and his men, or submit herself to the evil desires of his band. Sirs, I have lived long and suffered much, and done some little service for Christ, His Church, and His children, but I take more comfort from the absolution that I gave her when she cried for mercy against the sin of self-slaughter than for any other act in my career. Here, young sir,” said the priest, opening the locket, “are the pictures of your father and mother. See, cavaliers, some of you knew Don Francisco de Guzman and can recognize him. That is his wife. She was young and had golden hair like thine, my son, in those days. You are the express image of her person as I recall it.”

“My father! My mother!” cried Alvarado. “Look, Mercedes, look your Excellency, and gentlemen, all! But her body, worthy father?”

“Even as her soul hath gone out into the new life beyond, her body was drawn out into the great deep at the call of God but not unblessed, senors, even as she went not unshriven, for I knelt alone by her side, unable by my wounds and weakness to do more service, and said the office of our Holy Church.”

“May God bless thee, as I bless thee!” answered Alvarado, to give him the familiar name.

As he spoke he sank on his knees and pressed a long and fervent kiss upon the worn and withered hand of the aged man.

“It is not meet,” said the priest, withdrawing his hand and laying it in blessing upon the bowed fair head. “That which was lost is found again. Let us rejoice and praise God for His mercy. Donna Mercedes, gentlemen, my blessing on Senor de Guzman and upon ye all. Benedicite!” he said, making the sign of the cross.

CHAPTER XXIV

IN WHICH SIR HENRY MORGAN APPEALS UNAVAILINGLY ALIKE TO THE PITY OF WOMAN, THE FORGIVENESS OF PRIEST, THE FRIENDSHIP OF COMRADE, AND THE HATRED OF MEN

“And bless me also, my father,” cried Mercedes, kneeling by Alvarado’s side.

“Most willingly, my fair daughter,” answered the old man. “A fit helpmate indeed thou hast shown thyself for so brave a soldier. By your leave, your Excellency. You will indulge an old man’s desire to bless the marriage of the son as he did that of the mother? No obstacle, I take it, now exists to prevent this most happy union.”

“None,” answered the Viceroy, as the young people rose and stood before him, “and glad I am that this happy solution of our difficulties has come to pass.”

“And when, sir,” questioned the priest further, “may I ask that you design ”

“The sooner the better,” said the Viceroy smiling grimly. “By the mass, reverend father, I’ll feel easier when he hath her in his charge!”

“I shall prove as obedient to thee as wife, Don Francisco ” said Mercedes with great spirit, turning to him.

“Nay, call me Alvarado, sweet lady,” interrupted her lover.

“Alvarado then, if you wish for it was under that name that I first loved thee I shall prove as obedient a wife to thee as I was a dutiful daughter to thee, my father.”

“’Tis not saying o’er much,” commented the Viceroy, but smiling more kindly as he said the words. “Nay, I’ll take that back, Mercedes, or modify it. Thou hast, indeed, been to me all that a father could ask, until ”

“’Twas my fault, your Excellency. On me be the punishment,” interrupted the lover.

“Thou shalt have it with Mercedes,” answered the Viceroy, laughing broadly now. “What say ye, gentlemen?”

“My lord,” said Agramonte, from his age and rank assuming to speak for the rest, “there is not one of us who would not give all he possessed to stand in the young Lord de Guzman’s place.”

“Well, well,” continued the old man, “when we have restored order in the town we shall have a wedding ceremony say to-morrow.”

“Ay, ay, to-morrow, to-morrow!” cried the cavaliers.

“Your Excellency, there is one more thing yet to be done,” said Alvarado as soon as he could be heard.

“Art ever making objections, Captain Alvarado Don Francisco, that is. We might think you had reluctance to the bridal,” exclaimed the Viceroy in some little surprise. “What is it now?”

“The punishment of this man.”

“I gave him into your hands.”

“By God!” shouted old Hornigold, “I wondered if in all this fathering and mothering and sweethearting and giving in marriage he had forgot ”

“Not so. The postponement but makes it deeper,” answered Alvarado gravely. “Rest satisfied.”

“And I shall have my revenge in full measure?”

“In full, in overflowing measure, senor.”

“Do you propose to shoot me?” asked the buccaneer chieftain coolly. “Or behead me?”

“That were a death for an honorable soldier taken in arms and forced to bide the consequences of his defeat. It is not meet for you,” answered Alvarado.

“What then? You’ll not hang me? Me! A knight of England! Sometime Governor of Jamaica!”

“These titles are nothing to me. And hanging is the death we visit upon the common criminal, a man who murders or steals, or blasphemes. Your following may expect that. For you there is ”

“You don’t mean to burn me alive, do you?”

“Were you simply a heretic that might be meet, but you are worse ”

“What do you mean?” cried the buccaneer, carried away by the cold-blooded menace in Alvarado’s words. “Neither lead, nor steel, nor rope, nor fire!”

“Neither one nor the other, sir.”

“Is it the wheel? The rack? The thumbscrew? Sink me, ye shall see how an Englishman can die! Even from these I flinch not.”

“Nor need you, from these, for none of them shall be used,” continued the young soldier, with such calculating ferocity in his voice that in spite of his dauntless courage and intrepidity the blood of Morgan froze within his veins.

“Death and destruction!” he shouted. “What is there left?”

“You shall die, senor, not so much by the hand of man as by the act of God.”

“God! I believe in none. There is no God!”

“That you shall see.”

“Your Excellency, my lords! I appeal to you to save me from this man, not my son but my nephew ”

“S’death, sirrah!” shouted the Viceroy, enraged beyond measure by the allusion to any relationship, “not a drop of your base blood pollutes his veins. I have given you over to him. He will attend to you.”

“What means he to do then?”

“You shall see.”

“When?”

“To-morrow.”

The sombre, sinister, although unknown purpose of the Spaniards had new terrors lent to it by the utter inability of the buccaneer to foresee what was to be his punishment. He was a man of the highest courage, the stoutest heart, yet in that hour he was astonied. His knees smote together; he clenched his teeth in a vain effort to prevent their chattering. All his devilry, his assurance, his fortitude, his strength, seemed to leave him. He stood before them suddenly an old, a broken man, facing a doom portentous and terrible, without a spark of strength or resolution left to meet it, whatever it might be. And for the first time in his life he played the craven, the coward. He moistened his dry lips and looked eagerly from one face to another in the dark and gloomy ring that encircled him.

“Lady,” he said at last, turning to Mercedes as the most likely of his enemies to befriend him, “you are a woman. You should be tender hearted. You don’t want to see an old man, old enough to be your father, suffer some unknown, awful torture? Plead for me! Ask your lover. He will refuse you nothing now.”

There was a dead silence in the room. Mercedes stared at the miserable wretch making his despairing appeal as if she were fascinated.

“Answer him,” said her stern old father, “as a Spanish gentlewoman should.”

It was a grim and terrible age. The gospel under which all lived in those days was not that of the present. It was a gospel writ in blood, and fire, and steel.

“An eye for an eye,” said the girl slowly, “a tooth for a tooth, life for life, shame for shame,” her voice rising until it rang through the room. “In the name of my ruined sisters, whose wails come to us this instant from without, borne hither on the night wind, I refuse to intercede for you, monster. For myself, the insults you have put upon me, I might forgive, but not the rest. The taking of one life like yours can not repay.”

“You hear?” cried Alvarado. “Take him away.”

“One moment,” cried Morgan. “Holy Father your religion it teaches to forgive they say. Intercede for me!”

His eyes turned with faint hope toward the aged priest.

“Not for such as thou,” answered the old man looking from him. “I could forgive this,” he touched his battered tonsure, “and all thou hast done against me and mine. That is not little, for when I was a lad, a youth, before I took the priestly yoke upon me, I loved Maria Zerega but that is nothing. What suffering comes upon me I can bear, but thou hast filled the cup of iniquity and must drain it to the dregs. Hark ye the weeping of the desolated town! I can not interfere! They that take the sword shall perish by it. It is so decreed. You believe not in God ”

“I will! I do!” cried the buccaneer, clutching at the hope.

“I shall pray for thee, that is all.”

“Hornigold,” cried the now almost frenzied man, his voice hoarse with terror and weakness, “they owe much to you. Without you they had not been here. I have wronged you grievously terribly but I atone by this. Beg them, not to let me go but only to kill me where I stand! They will not refuse you. Had it not been for you this man would not have known his father. He could not have won this woman. You have power. You’ll not desert an old comrade in his extremity? Think, we have stood together sword in hand and fought our way through all obstacles in many a desperate strait. Thou and I, old shipmate. By the memory of that old association, by the love you once bore me, and by that I gave to you, ask them for my death, here now at once!”

“You ask for grace from me!” snarled Hornigold savagely, yet triumphant. “You you hanged my brother ”

“I know, I know! ’Twas a grievous error. I shall be punished for all ask them to shoot me hang me ”

He slipped to his knees, threw himself upon the floor, and lay grovelling at Hornigold’s feet.

“Don’t let them torture me, man! My God, what is it they intend to do to me?”

“Beg, you hound!” cried the boatswain, spurning him with his foot. “I have you where I swore I’d bring you. And, remember, ’tis I that laid you low I I ” He shrieked like a maniac. “When you suffer in that living death for which they design you, remember with every lingering breath of anguish that it was I who brought you there! You trifled with me mocked me betrayed me. You denied my request. I grovelled at your feet and begged you you spurned me as I do you now. Curse you! I’ll ask no mercy for you!”

“My lord,” gasped out Morgan, turning to the Viceroy in one final appeal, as two of the men dragged him to his feet again, “I have treasure. The galleon we captured it is buried I can lead you there.”

“There is not a man of your following,” said the Viceroy, “who would not gladly purchase life by the same means.”

“And ’tis not needed,” said the boatswain, “for I have told them where it lies.”

“If Teach were here,” said Morgan, “he would stand by me.”

A man forced his way into the circle carrying a sack in his hand. Drawing the strings he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of the only man save Black Dog upon whom he could have depended, his solitary friend.

Morgan staggered back in horror from the ghastly object, staring at it as if fascinated.

“Ha, ha! Ho, ho!” laughed the old boatswain. “What was it that he sang? ’We’ll be damnably mouldy’ ay, even you and I captain ’an hundred years hence.’ But should you live so long, you’ll not forget ’twas I.”

“You didn’t betray me then, my young comrade,” whispered Morgan, looking down at the severed head. “You fought until you were killed. Would that my head might lie by your side.”

He had been grovelling, pleading, weeping, beseeching, but the utter uselessness of it at last came upon him and some of his courage returned. He faced them once more with head uplifted.

“At your will, I’m ready,” he cried. “I defy you! You shall see how Harry Morgan can die. Scuttle me, I’ll not give way again!”

“Take him away,” said Alvarado; “we’ll attend to him in the morning.”

“Wait! Give me leave, since I am now tried and condemned, to say a word.”

A cunning plan had flashed into the mind of Morgan, and he resolved to put it in execution.

“It has been a long life, mine, and a merry one. There’s more blood upon my hands Spanish blood, gentlemen than upon those of any other human being. There was Puerto Principe. Were any of you there? The men ran like dogs before me there and left the women and children. I wiped my feet upon your accursed Spanish flag. I washed the blood from my hands with hair torn from the heads of your wives, your sweethearts, and you had not courage to defend them!”

A low murmur of rage swept through the room.

“But that’s not all. Some of you perhaps were at Porto Bello. I drove the women of the convents to the attack, as in this city yesterday. When I finished I burned the town it made a hot fire. I did it I who stand here! I and that cursed one-eyed traitor Hornigold, there!”

The room was in a tumult now. Shouts, and curses, and imprecations broke forth. Weapons were bared, raised, and shaken at him. The buccaneer laughed and sneered, ineffable contempt pictured on his face.

“And some of you were at Santa Clara, at Chagres, and here in Venezuela at Maracaïbo, where we sunk the ships and burned your men up like rats. Then, there was Panama. We left the men to starve and die. Your mother, Senor Agramonte what became of her? Your sister, there! Your wife, here! The sister of your mother, you young dog what became of them all? Hell was let loose in this town yesterday. Panama was worse than La Guayra. I did it I Harry Morgan’s way!”

He thrust himself into the very faces of the men, and with cries of rage they rushed upon him. They brushed aside the old Viceroy, drowning his commands with their shouts. Had it not been for the interference of Hornigold and Alvarado they would have cut Morgan to pieces where he stood. And this had been his aim to provoke them beyond measure by a recital of some of his crimes so that he would be killed in their fury. But the old boatswain with superhuman strength seized the bound captain and forced him into a corner behind a table, while Alvarado with lightning resolution beat down the menacing sword points.

“Back!” he cried. “Do you not see he wished to provoke this to escape just punishment? I would have silenced him instantly but I thought ye could control yourselves. I let him rave on that he might be condemned out of his own mouth, that none could have doubt that he merits death at our hands to-morrow. Sheath your weapons instantly, gentlemen!” he cried.

“Ay,” said the Viceroy, stepping into the crowd and endeavoring to make himself heard, “under pain of my displeasure. What, soldiers, nobles, do ye turn executioners in this way?”

“My mother ”

“My sister ”

“The women and children ”

“The insult to the flag ”

“The disgrace to the Spanish name!”

“That he should say these things and live!”

“Peace, sirs, he will not say words like these to-morrow. Now, we have had enough. See!” cried the old Viceroy, pointing to the windows, “the day breaks. Take him away. Agramonte, to you I commit the fort. Mercedes, Alvarado, come with me. Those who have no duties to perform, go get some sleep. As for you, prisoner, if you have preparation to make, do so at once, for in the morning you shall have no opportunity.”

“I am ready now!” cried Morgan recklessly, furious because he had been balked in his attempt. “Do with me as you will! I have had my day, and it has been a long and merry one.”

“And I mine, to-night. It has been short, but enough,” laughed Hornigold, his voice ringing like a maniac’s in the hall. “For I have had my revenge!”

“We shall take care of that in the morning,” said Alvarado, turning away to follow the Viceroy and Mercedes.