University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

M. Rollin.

Hamilton's Essays.

A RUINED VILLA—A CASTILLIAN MAIDEN—THE VENERABLE
SPANIARD—SCENE IN A SUBTERRANEAN APARTMENT.

While the band of piratical marauders were
winding their way through the intricate paths
which led through the grounds, we will precede
them to the villa.

This was a long, low, steep-roofed edifice, with
a dilapidated and sunken gallery running along its
front, supported by a row of heavy, dark-coloured
columns, some of which leaned inward while one
or two were lying prostrate upon the green sward
before the house. At either end of the gallery, stood a
bronze statue of some classic hero, while in various
points in front of the building and half-concealed by
the wild and neglected shrubbery, were several marble
statues, a few standing, but more broken into
pieces and thrown down, fragments of which were
scattered in every direction over the grounds. A
green terrace, fronting the bay and bound with marble,
up to which a ruined flight of steps ascended

from the shore, extended the whole length of the
parterre, or ornamented garden, before the villa.
The chimneys, and in many places the walls of
the house had crumbled and fallen; windows were
without shutters—the ascent to the piazza, the
entrances to the dwelling, and the various walks
diverging from it, were choked up with tall coarse
grass, and fragments of brick, stone and marble.
The whole premises presented a scene of melancholy
desolation—the sad record of past opulence
and grandeur.

The northern wing of the building, alone withstood
the devastations of decay, and at this time,
served as the abode of the family whose reported
wealth, had held forth temptations to a band of
pirates to invade the sanctity of its domestic circle.
The opulent proprietor, an old Castillian soldier,
lived in the enjoyment of vast possessions in Mexico,
when one of the many revolutions in that ill-fated
land, sent him forth an exile to other shores.
With the value of his estates exchanged for Spanish
coin and vessels of gold and silver, or melted down
into ingots, and accompanied by his only child, a
beautiful dark-eyed Castillian girl—a nephew whom
he had adopted, and one or two faithful servants, he
came to Jamaica, and purchased the estate on which
he now dwelt, from one of those old, ruined planters,
who once lived princes of the island.

The old Spaniard's heart was broken by his
exile. His proud spirit was fallen, and he had
become again a child, and the child of his bosom,
the young Constanza Velasquez, was the only
solace of his age and solitude. But the nephew,
turned upon his benefactor, and like the serpent,
stung the bosom that nourished him.

The hour of vespers had long passed, and Constanza
kneeled by the couch of her father.

Her figure was round, finely developed, and displayed

to advantage by a laced jacket, or bodice of
black satin, enriched with a deep lace border closely
fitting her shape. The curve of her shoulders was
faultless, terminating in arms that would have
haunted Canova in his dreams. On either wrist
sparkled a diamond button confining the bodice at
the cuffs. At both shoulders it was also clasped
by a star of emeralds. Her fine raven hair was
drawn back, and arranged in the form of a crest of
tresses falling around her finely-turned head. A
single white flower was secured in a rich curl
above her forehead, by a gold-wrought comb, inlaid
with many coloured stones. Over her head
was thrown a white mantilla or veil, fastened on
the comb by a pearl pin, so disposed as to fall down
the back, to the feet of the wearer; yet it could
be readily brought forward and dropped over the
whole person. At this time, it was gathered in
folds, and hung gracefully on her left arm.

Beneath her robe of white satin, worn under
the bodice, and richly flowered with net work
of silver, appeared, fitted in a neat Spanish slipper,
a foot—such as poets of the northern clime
see in dreams—of the most perfect and fascinating
symmetry. The complexion of the maiden
was a rich olive tinge, mellowed by the suns of sixteen
Indian summers. Her eyes were large, dark,
and expressive, shaded by long silken lashes, even
darker than her dark shining hair, giving them,
when in repose, that dreamy look, which the pencils
of the old Italian masters loved to dwell upon with
lingering touches. They spoke of deep passion and
gentleness, while a smile of light danced perpetually
in their radiant beams. The general character of
her extremely lovely features indicated great sweetness
of disposition and ingenuousness. The timid
expression of her eye, evincing indecision, was relieved
by a firmness about the mouth and the maidenly

dignity which sat upon her beautiful forehead.
In her left hand, she held a diamond crucifix suspended
from her neck by a massive gold chain, each
link in the shape of a cross. Upon her right arm,
reposed the majestic head of her venerable parent,
her delicate fingers playing with the silvery, shining
ringlets that flowed about his neck, and curled upon
his massive forehead. His features were sharp and
rigid with illness and settled grief; and his dark
eye was lustreless as he gazed up into the face of
his child.

“Have you said your prayers to night, my child?”

“I have, dear father; and they ascended for your
recovery. Oh, that the sweet mother of our Saviour
would grant answers to my prayers!” she said looking
upward devotionally.

“She will, she will, Constanza,” replied the
aged man, “for yourself, but not for me! I have
lived my allotted space. I must soon leave you,
child. Be prepared for it, my daughter! Listen!
I dreamed this afternoon that I saw the blessed Virgin,
and she was the image of yourself.”

“Nay, father, let not your love for poor sinful
Constanza lead you to sin in your language,” interrupted
his daughter, blushing at the unintentional
flattery, while she trembled at its seeming impiety.

“So, so, but yet hear me, child,” he interrupted
impatiently; “when I gazed upon her, wondering
she was so like you, she changed, and instead of you,
I saw your mother! How much like her you look
just now my child! Bend down and let me kiss
your brow.” The fair girl bent her brow to her
father's cheek, her dark locks mingling with his
white hair.

“You do not remember your mother,” uttered he,
after a moment's affectionate embrace; “poor child!
she was very beautiful. Your lofty brow is hers,
the same pencilled arch—the same drooping lid—

and when you smile, I almost call you, `my Isabel!”'

“Am I so like my sainted mother, father? I
wish I could recollect her or recall a feature,” she
said, placing her finger on her lips in the attitude of
thought—“but no, no, it is vain!” she added,
shaking her head mournfully, “her image is gone
forever.”

“Oh no, not forever, my child, you shall meet her
again in heaven.”

All at once a cloud of sorrow passed across his
troubled features, and grasping in his trembling and
withered fingers, the soft, round hand of his daughter,
he said in an earnest manner,

“Constanza, I feel that I cannot leave you, my
unprotected dove! in this sinful world alone. What
will become of you, my child, when I am gone?
Hebérto!” and the old man's eye flashed with anger
as he repeated the name, “Beware of Hebérto!
Oh, that the proud name of Velasquez should be dishonoured
by such a branch! Fear him, my child, fear
him as you would the adder that winds his glistening
folds along your path;” and the old man clasped
his skeleton fingers upon the sparkling crucifix
which lay upon his breast and after remaining
silent for a few moments, he lifted his aged eyes to
heaven and said, “Holy Mary! take her! she is
thy child, thy sister! Be a mother to my child, dear
Mary, Mother of Jesus! and as thy beloved son surrendered
thee to the care of his beloved disciple
while he hung expiring on the cross,” and he pressed
fervently and devotionally the jewelled representative
to his lips, “so do I, a poor penitent worm of
the dust, here and on my dying bed, give up to thee,
my child—my only beloved child! Thou hast her
mother in heaven. Oh keep her daughter while
on earth! Mary, Mother! in the language of thy
dying son, I say, `Mother, behold thy daughter!”'

The venerable man, who in his momentary devotion
had raised himself from the sustaining arm of
his daughter, as he uttered the last words, fell back
upon the pillow exhausted.

“Oh, Agata! Agata!” shrieked the deeply-affected
and terrified girl, “Come! hasten! my father is
dying.”

The door of the anti-chamber burst open, and the
tall figure of young Hebérto Velasquez stood before
her as she turned to look for her aged attendant,
wrapped in a dark blue cloak, and his features
shaded by a drooping sombrero.

“Ha, my charming cousin! what has tuned that
pretty voice so high,” he said in a gay, yet unpleasant
tone; at the same time coming forward and
bending gracefully down, he passed his arm around
the waist of the lovely girl.

The maiden sprung as if a demon had laid
his polluted hand upon her person. “Heberto!
Señor Velasquez!” and she stood before him as she
spoke—her eye flashing with maidenly indignation—
her cheek glowing with insulted modesty, and her
majestic figure and attitude like that of a seraph
whom Satan had dared to tempt. “What mean
you, sir? begone! Would you press your hateful
suit to the daughter, over the corpse of her father?
Begone, I hate you!—more than I have ever loved
—I now hate you! Oh shame, shame! that I
should ever have loved THEE!” and her lip, eye
and brow, expressed withering scorn.

“Leave me, sir!” she added, as she saw that he
moved not. But the bold and unblushing intruder,
although his eye quailed before the proud look of
the maiden, stood with folded arms, a fierce brow,
and malicious lip, gazing upon her, as she turned to
bathe the aged temples of the unconscious invalid
and restore him to animation. “Leave me, sir;
Oh, let not my father revive and find you here. It

will kill him. You know he cannot endure you,
soulless man, since you brought that fatal will for
him to sign.”

“Ha, do you throw it in my teeth, pretty one!
But prithee tell me, when first learned you the part
of tragedy queen? Nombre de Dios, my pretty
cousin! but you play your part excellently well.”

“Scorner! Insulter! away—Oh that the count
were here to chastise insolence!”

“The count,” slowly repeated Velasquez, grinding
the hated appellation between his glittering
teeth, as he slowly articulated it.

At this moment the old man unclosed his eyes.
“Go, sir, go—would you murder him?” she exclaimed,
while her dark eye flashed with anger.

“He will die full soon enough when his ingots
are gone,” repeated Velasquez, scornfully. “I will
go, my queenly cousin; but the time perhaps may
not be far off, when you will sue for this same Velasquez
to stay, and with clasped hands and tearful
eyes pray him to speak you kindly; then will he
remember this evening. Adios, estrella mia!” he
added with a mock, sentimental air, and kissing his
hand, while he cast over the voluptuous outline of
her shoulders, as, in her sacred duty she bent
affectionately over her father's form, a glance of
mingled desire and hatred, he pressed his hat over
his eyes, folded his cloak closelier about his form, and
left the apartment.

With a firm and rapid pace he passed through
the hall, and traversed the deserted apartments of
the large mansion, his way lighted by the moon,
which poured in floods of radiance at the open and
shutterless windows. Opening, and closing carefully
after him, a door which communicated with
the opposite wing, he descended a broken staircase,
into a dark vault beneath, and unlocking a small door

concealed on the outside by thick shrubbery, he
pushed aside the bushes, and stood in the moonlight.

“By the blessed Baptista!” he exclaimed, as he
emerged from the secret portal, “if these men betray
me! Yet, without me they cannot hunt out
the old dotard's hoard. But if I am the buccaneer's
tool, you have lost your wits, Velasquez, if he shall
not be yours.” And the dark plotter against a
helpless old man, and his lovely and unprotected
child, smiled inwardly at the pleasant thought his
fertile brain conjured up, as he paced to and fro,
beneath the shade of a large tamarind tree, which
grew near that wing of the mansion.

“What can keep them?” he muttered, as a
fancied sound in a clump of bushes, upon which his
eye was often turned, stayed for a moment his
footsteps.

“It is a full half hour since they answered my
signal. Cesar has been long absent! The black
loiterer should have had them here, ere now.”

“A shrine to thee, patron saint!” he suddenly exclaimed,
devoutly kissing a medal, suspended to his
collar, “there is the square figure of my naked
Adonis; and that tall figure! I know it well;
once seen it is not soon forgotten; and there follow
his sturdy villains. Now, Herbérto Velasquez, thou
art a made man!”

“Señores, buenos tardes,” he said, gaily advancing
a few steps to meet the approaching party, as it
emerged from the avenue, and traversed the terrace
to the place of appointment. “My good sir
captain, you are right gladly welcome to my poor
domicil. If it please you, draw up your men in
this shade, while we walk aside,” he added, proffering
his hand to the leader of the party.

“Sir Spaniard, pardon me that I grasp not the
hand of a villain,” replied the chief, without removing
his hand from the cutlass hilt, upon which it

mechanically rested. “Nay, start not! and leave
that rapier in peace. I know you, though we have
met but seldom. Thanks, or courtesy, I owe you
not. This adventure is not of my seeking; it is
the ill-begotten offspring of mutiny on the part of
my men, who will be in no other way appeased,
and of treachery, ingratitude, and base villany on
your own. Now, Señor, to business; but let there
be no friendship, and but few words between us.”

Velasquez bit his lip in silence, and his inferior
spirit shrunk within him, as these biting words
rung upon his ear; and the penetrating, self-powered
gaze of the pirate rested, while he spoke, full
upon his features. But his love of wealth overcame
any momentary struggles of wounded pride, and he
replied in a less assured tone than he had used,
when first addressing his companion.

“It is well, Señor,” he said, carelessly, “if you
choose to be captious on so slight a matter. But
'tis a blessed chance my pretty cousin heard not
your romancing. I would wager my gold-headed
rapier against the iron one you wear, that she
would have loved you outright.”

“Your sword is more likely to be lost in such a
wager, than in one of battle,” was the contemptuous
reply; “but I came not here to lay wagers with
you, Don Velasquez, either of coin or battle. To
the matter in hand. We have no time for idle
dallying, and I am not given to bandying words.
For the privilege of taking possession of the large
sum of money in the possession of your uncle, you
are to be allowed one-half for your own personal
use, on condition, that without turmoil or blood-shed,
injury to persons or property, you conduct
my men to your uncle's strong-hold. These,” he
added, after a moment's silence, “are the terms we
made in Kingston. Say I not well, Señor?”

“There remains one other condition,” replied

Velasquez, with the caution of practised villany;
“that mutual secrecy be sacredly observed between
us, in relation to the removal of the treasures.”

“Even so, wary Señor Velasquez; that the robbed
old man may lay all censure upon the pirates,
whom you would make the scape-goat of your
treachery to your uncle, and curse them when he
talks of his loss to his sympathizing nephew, if,
haply, he lives to relate the sad story. Well, lead
on, Señor, we follow,” he added, sternly.

“Call two of your strongest men,” said Velasquez,
“let them accompany us, and command the
rest to stand as close as possible with their weapons
ready for use, in case of alarm; and enjoin upon
them to observe the strictest silence. Now, sir! shall
we move?”

“Théodore, be alert, our lives depend upon
it,” said the chief to his young attendant; and,
followed by two of his men, he approached the secret
opening, guided by Velasquez, who had constructed
it for his own private admission into the
vault, when his lavish purse required replenishing;
although, a certain indefinable respect for his name
and respectability among men, prevented him from
openly robbing his benefactor, or removing sufficiently
large sums to excite suspicion.

Accident, in some of his visits to Jamaica, had
thrown him into the company of the commander of
the schooner, with whom, from a supposed congeniality
of character, he sought to cultivate an
intimacy. Ignorant of human nature, whose outward
seeming is often the most false, and anxious
to be regarded by the outlaw as a caballero of
mettle; without knowing his exact character,
and thinking he must assimilate himself to the
false standard of an outlaw set up in his own
mind, he threw into his manner a recklessness,
lawlessness, and ferocity, which was, however,

natural to him, disgusting to the chief, who took no
pains to conceal his contempt for him. Subsequently,
a knowledge of a threatened mutiny
among his men, suggested to the dark-minded
man a scheme, not only to gain wealth himself,
without suspicion, or rather, proof of illegal acquisition,
but to do the pirate, whose fellowship, like the
cur who is beaten, he coveted the more he was
spurned, a favour that should purchase his good
will.

Putting aside the thick clumps of the oleander,
concealing the secret opening into the vault of the
building, Velasquez and his companions entered the
low-arched room communicating with the apartment
above, by the shattered stair-case he had
descended on quitting his cousin.

“It is too dark to place a foot! Are you provided
with a lantern?” he inquired, in a whisper, carefully
and without noise, closing the door, as the
last man entered.

“Here is one,” said the seaman nearest him,
opening, at the same time, one side of the night
lantern, with which nearly every man was provided.

The guide took it from him, and passing round
the stairs, opened a door he had purposely left
unlocked, and entered a long damp passage,
the extremity of which lay in total darkness. The
outlaw placed his hand upon his stiletto, and glanced,
with habitual watchfulness, around him, as he
approached its obscure and suspicious termination.
At the end of the passage, which they crossed with
light footsteps, they passed through another door,
the key of which was in the lock, and entered a
low-vaulted room, directly under the inhabited
wing of the mansion.

The floor was paved with large flat stones, and

besides the door, through which they entered, there
was no perceptible outlet.

“Here is the room adjoining the money,” said
Velasquez, in a low, husky voice, with his face
averted from the gaze of him whom he addressed.
“Be silent; the least noise will betray us:—
Hark! did you not hear the report of a gun? No,
it was a movement overhead.” The momentary
suspicion and apprehension of detection, which
are the attendants of guilt, passed off, and he
continued,—

“Look at this wall, sir! you see it is perfectly
smooth; yet through it we pass to my uncle's
gold bags,” said he, with a forced smile, as he shook
off his fears, and those qualms of conscience which
tortured even his hardened spirit. Then, pressing
against one of the sides of a large square stone, it
turned half way round, on a concealed pivot, and
displayed a narrow opening on either side.

“This is too small; we cannot pass through it,”
said the pirate, now speaking for the first time since
entering the vault.

Without replying, Velasquez pressed the sides of
the two lower stones in the same manner, and two
dark, narrow passages, nearly the height of a man,
and so wide, that one could pass sideways, were
opened in the wall.

Holding the lamp, so that it would illuminate
the interior, a narrow, spiral stair-case was discovered,
leading both into the upper room, where the
outlet was concealed by a private door, and from
the spot where they stood, into a subterranean vault
beneath—constituting a medium of communication
between the upper room and the vault, and from
the stair-case, by revolving the stones, to the exterior
of the building, by the way the party had entered.

“You see, my uncle is a true Spaniard, señor
captain, in his taste for subterranean and secret

passages!” said Velasquez. “Pity 'tis, his ingenuity
should not have had eyes to admire it before.
He should thank me, by our Lady's benison,
for making known to a man of judgment, like
yourself, his passing skill. See! how secretly he
can descend from his chamber to count his ingots!
though to do the old dotard justice, he possesses not
a miserly soul. This passage in the wall must,
however, be set down to his nephew's ingenuity.
It would astonish the old man, as much as if a
new Roman miracle were hatched, (the saints pardon
my impiety!) if he should press too heavily
against the sides of his stair-way, and pitch, at
once, into this room. I would give half I expect
to possess this night, to see his aghast features,
when he made the discovery. But I see you are
impatient, señor captain,—let us proceed,” he added
hastily, as his companion sprung into the
opening on the staircase; and following him, they
descended into the vault, over which the lamp cast
a dim and uncertain light.

The little room, or cell, in which they now were,
was arched over-head—the walls were constructed
of solid masonry, and there was visible neither outlet
nor inlet, save, at the foot of the stairs, that
which admitted them.

Around the room, which was about eight feet
square, stood several antique marble urns, blackened
by age and dampness, which had once constituted
a part of the ornaments of the villa grounds
in the days of its pride. These urns were covered
with slabs, once capitals and pedestals.

A heavy cedar box, with a cover loosely thrown
over it, stood on one side, while, on a raised floor,
were candlesticks, urns, a tall crucifix, and many
vessels for the altar and festal board, all of massive
silver.

“Mines of Peru! but here is a goodly display of

wealth!” said the pirate, glancing his eye over the
glittering array before him. “Let us see what
these urns contain. Coin of silver! coin of silver!
chains of gold! bracelets! glittering stones, and
gems of price!” said he, as he removed one after
another of the slabs which covered them. “And
here, in this strong box,” he continued, removing
the lid, “what have we here? Holy Saint Peter!
but here is a prince's ransom indeed;” and the
rough corners of a heap of ingots sparkled with a
thousand points in the rays of the lamp.

“Here, Señor Captain, is the prize you seek,”
said Velasquez, exultingly, after waiting until he
had surveyed the costly heaps. “Let your men
take the box of ingots, the vessels of silver, and the
urn of golden chains, gems, and bracelets; for
my portion, leave me the remaining urns of dollars
—though something less than what you share—I
am content with them. But remember your oath
of secrecy.”

“That will I, Señor Velasquez,” said the outlaw,
in a lively tone; “and I consent to this division.”

The sight of so much wealth, which he had to
lay his hands upon only to possess, and the prospect
of restoring discipline in his fleet, overcame for the
moment his contempt for the tool that served him,
and his regret at taking possession of the wealth of
a defenceless old man. “But,” he argued, as he
and others, under similar circumstances, had argued
before, “if I do not take it, Velasquez will; but I
have sworn on bended knee that a sacred portion
should be reserved for the daughter! Innocence has
been too long the victim of guilt! The last shall
now be subservient to the first. Come, Señor
Velasquez,” he said abruptly, aloud, “let us to
work. Here, Gaspár, you and Nicolás raise this
box; it is weighty, but you were not blessed with
the neck and shoulders of bulls for nothing. No!

not move it? Then lighten it—there—thats' well.
Now bear it to the outside, and bid Théodore send
Mateo and Carlos back with you—be silent and
speedy.”

The men, placing an open lantern upon the cover
of the box to light them through the dark passage
of the building, disappeared slowly up the stairs
with their heavy burden, while the two principals
who remained, the one—with folded arms leaning
against the side of the vault, and the other, with
his right hand thrust into his bosom, the left resting
upon a slab—stood silently and in darkness
awaiting their return.