 | CHAPTER VIII. Ringwood the rover |  |
8. CHAPTER VIII.
The strong beams of the morning sun, pouring
a flood of emerald-tinted lustre, caught from the
leafy arches through which they made their way,
into the stern lights of the Rover's cabin, aroused
him from his troubled slumbers. He rose up on
the instant in perfect possession of all his senses,
drew his hand once or twice across his fine broad
brow, as if to wipe away some thought that had
sat heavy there during the hours of sleep, and
then plunged his whole head into an ewer of cold
water, to cool its feverish throbbing. This done,
and his disordered dress arranged with somewhat
finical nicety, he hastened to the deck of his galley,
where his presence was hailed with a shout of
enthusiastic rapture by the assembled crew.
The scene was widely altered since the preceding
sunset; for now the pirate squadron lay calmly
floating in a small wood-girt basin, so exquisitely
clear and glassy, that every line and moulding of
the vessels, every small rope and fluttering pen-nant,
was drawn to the very life on the dark mirror
of the still deep waters; and it might well
have tasked the strongest vision to define the exact
place where the substance and the shadow met,
so wonderfully were they blended.
At first sight it appeared that this small pool
or lakelet, which was so nearly circular that it
might have been fancied artificial, and in no direction
was it a quarter of a mile across, although so
marvelously deep that the deepest sealine had
never yet found bottom, though run out to five
hundred fathoms, was altogether landlocked, and
had no outlet for its brimming waters; for it was
hedged around on every side but one, by the dense
brakes and ever-living umbrage of the tropical
forest, and there the shore sloped gently upward
in a rich turfy lawn of the tenderest verdure. On
a nearer inspection, however, it was not difficult
to detect the spot, by the opening in the tree-tops,
where rushed from that secluded spring the powerful
and abundant stream, which boiled up from
the bowels of the earth, here at its very birth a
river; although it made so short a turn immediately
on quitting the parent basin, that no part
of its course was visible. Immediately on the
water's edge, where the smooth lawn sloped upward,
forming a gentle hillock, a long green mound
of short close greensward, cut into many an angular
zigzag, many a crescent, and wedged ravelin,
and a butting at either extremity on a small half-moon
bastion of wrought stone, presented a terrible
array of batteries mounted with above a hundred
black-mouthed cannon, grinning defiance to any
bold invader, who should penetrate so deeply into
the Rover's haunts, as to reach this his inmost
hold, many a mile aloof from the blue billows of
the Mexican Gulf. From either bastion there was
drawn a line of powerful stoccadoes facing an
eastern rampart with many salient angles, running
entirely round the hillock between its grassy esplanade
and the deep masses of the forest which
surrounded it; and a broad ditch cut with vast labor
through the swampy soil, and lined with
square hewn timber completely isolated the position,
which had been chosen with so much skill,
and fortified so masterly by the directions of the
great English Rover. The space within the lines,
which might have formed an area of a mile's circuit,
contained many long wooden buildings, erected
at right angles to each other, with wide verandahs
and long porticoes, all clustered round the base of
the hill; presenting a picturesque and gay appearance;
for they were painted tastefully enough
with white and green in broad contrasting stripes,
like some of the modern Italian villas, and all the
verandahs were furnished with curtained awnings
of the most sumptuous and magnificent materials,
velvets and rich brocades, and gold and silver tissues,
more like the fanciful pavilions of some
fairy palace, than the adornments of a piratical
stronghold.
Around the crest of the little hill, commanding
the whole area, and forming evidently the citadel
of the position, a triple line of earthen ramparts,
with deep dry ditches, crowned with chevaux de
frise, and mounted with long culverins, guarded
the scarped ascent, and encircled a large keep or
block-house, which occupied the summit of the
knoll—the Rover's palace-castle.
Such was the scene which lay brightly illuminated
by the low morning sunbeams, but checkered
here and there with cool blue shadows, cast
by the forest trees and grotesque buildings over
the emerald lawn, under the eyes of Ringwood.
But though he was no mean judge, nor careless
observer of the wild charms of nature, he had
gazed too often on that strange and lovely prospect,
to give at this time more than a passing
glance to its attractions—besides, the moment had
its duties. There was of course no anchorage in
that unfathomed gulf, whereon the low and rakish
picaroons floated so calmly; they were moored,
therefore, in shore, for the banks were all abrupt
and molden, by books and grapnels; Ringwood's
felucca, as the largest, lying the farthest from the
batteries, and covering the outlet of the river with
her broadside. The other barks were anchored
to the shore at various points, so as to concentrate
their fire on the same spot much farther up the
basin and under the very guns of the fort, the
smallest of the squadron lying directly in front of
the water gate, and covered by the eastern bastion.
The crews, it would appear, of all the rest, had
already landed; for with the exception of a single
sentinel on the forecastle of each, not a soul was
to be seen on board; while, dotting everywhere
the verdant area of the fort, some lounging idly
in the cool shadows of the curtained porticoes,
some walking to and fro in little groups and parties,
some dallying with gaily dressed, light-mannered
girls, two or three hundred of the buccaneers
were visible; while from within the dwellings,
loud bursts of revelry, mingled with the sweet
laughter, and half sportive shrieks of women, and
now and then a gay licentious song, or the tinkling
of a lute, betokened the presence of many
more inhabitants than met the gazer's eye.
“Ha! Anson,” exclaimed Ringwood, addressing
one of his subordinate officers with a smile,
“I have played something overmuch the sluggard;
and these good fellows are, I warrant me, fretting
to be ashore among the bona robas yonder. So to
it, sir, at once: hoist all the boats out presently,
except my private pinnace, and have the people
landed. Keep the barge to the last; I will ashore
in it myself.”
A louder acclamation than that even which had
greeted the appearance of the rover on his deck,
now burst forth from the merry crew as they
rushed with tumultuous hurry to their quarters,
eagerly urging their light duty, and hoisting out
the boats with many a jovial cheer and hasty
halloa! For a few minutes the great buccaneer
stood looking on in silence, till the last boat had
pushed off with its noisy freight, leaving the
barge's crew alone, waiting for their superiors,
who were grouped on the forecastle; and the small
private pinnace swinging beneath the stern-lights
of the cabin. Then, motioning his officers to wait
for his return, he descended the companion-stair,
and once more entered his own cabin.
“Pluto!” he cried—“Ho! Pluto!” as he entered;
and as the negro sentinel thrust in his turbaned
head, at the half-opened door—“jump up
on deck, and clear away my pinnace; bring it
round to the starboard gangway, and after we
shall have left the ship—I and the gentlemen—do
thou and Charon lead down the lady there, and
the black lass, and row them straight to the sally-port,
entering the covered way: I will be there
to meet ye; and hark, sirrah, in your ear—do
thou, or thy swart comrade but once look lustfully
upon their beauties, and thou shalt wish thyself
dead fifty times, ere death shall end thy tortures.
See to it, and begone;” then, as the negroes
hurried forth to execute his orders, “Teresa!” he
called aloud—“come forth, Teresa.” There was
a pause of a few minutes, interrupted only by a
slight rustling sound as if of female garments, from
the state-room; but no one answered any thing:
nor did she, when he called, come forth. “What,
ho!” he cried again: “come forth, come forth,
Teresa! or by the Lord that lives, you shall repent
it. Best not provoke me, beauty.”
As he spoke the door opened, and the sweet girl
came forth, somewhat refreshed, indeed, by sleep,
but with her clear and luminous skin still pale as
alabaster; so that her large dark eye, contrasted
with the singular whiteness of her face, showed
almost supernaturally full and lustrous. Her hair
had been arranged in neat broad plaits, wound
simply round the classic contour of her head; and
over her high brow a single heavy curl falling
down with a massive sweep behind each delicate
ear; but her neck, and the first gentle swell of
her young bosom, were all bare, and her round
dimpled arms uncovered to the shoulders; yet,
even in her disarray, there was so true a dignity
in every motion, so rigid and severe a modesty in
the chaste, sorrowful eye, so perfect an air of unconsciousness
of aught unseemly—although, indeed,
she was most conscious—that the most hardened
debauchee could no more have found matter
for voluptuous thoughts there, than in the cold,
denuded limbs of marble saint or angel.
“I come,” she answered, her words flowing
out in a calm, passionless, and even strain, as
though her very fears were dead. “I come, obedient
to your call, so to eschew worse outrage.
I come; what would you?”
“Sweet lady,” replied Ringwood, with a half-meaning
courtesy of accent, “sweet, innocent
lady, that you prepare you straightway to take
boat, in charge of my stanch guardsmen, and so
to my poor dwelling: there I will see you presently.
Meantime, in yonder state-room are store
of velvet mantles; take one of them, I pray you,
and wrap you closely in its folds; and 'twere no
evil done, if you should cast a silken kerchief in
lieu of veil, over those lovely lineaments. I
would not give your charms to the brute gaze of
the rude sailors.”
“Wherefore, kind sir, and most considerate,”
she said, a slight flush rising to her pallid cheek,
“or to what purpose would you veil, to-day, me,
whom, but two days ago, you did display in so
unwomanly disarray to the same eyes from which
you now would hide me? perchance from motives
not pure and disinterested?”
“Simply,” returned the Rover, in a cold, resolute
voice, “simply, for that it is the will! and
have a care—have thou a care, Teresa, provoke
me not too far—I say provoke me not! It were
as easy, every whit, to me, to strip your charms
to the broad day, and so parade you to the gaping
wonder of those brute mariners, as to say `veil
into fury as he proceeded, “by God! it were
as easy to cast you forth a booty to the untamed
licentiousness of those who know no mercy—as
thus—”
“As thus, from selfish passion!” she interrupted
him, “thus to reserve me for the more foul dishonor
of your own private pleasures!”
“Of my own private pleasures!” he repeated,
mimicking the very tones of her voice—“of my
own private pleasures! right daintily worded that,
dear lady, and very true withal. My own most
private pleasures, of which, believe me, sweet
one, you soon shall be the most choice minister,
and the well-pleased partaker—and now to punish
you for this, your insolence, and teach you wisdom
for the future!”
And with the words, he made one quick step
forward, and throwing both his arms round her
fair form, one encircling her lovely shoulders and
swan-like neck, the other twining with irresistible
pressure her slight rounded waist, he clasped her
to him in a close embrace, kissing her lips, and
sucking her sweet breath, till she had well nigh
fainted in his arms. She did not shriek, nor
struggle—no more could she have struggled within
the overpowering grasp of that gigantic frame,
than could the linnet strive against the talons of
the ger-falcon. She did not shriek: for there
was none to hear: much less to aid, or rescue her.
But yet she yielded not, one jot—much less responded
to his passionate caress—but stood within
his circling arms, cold, rigid, stern, impassive as
a wrought shape of bronze or marble—not a pulse
in her body bounded beyond its usual motion: not
a quicker throb of her bosom answered to the hot
beatings of his heart—not a pant was on her
breath, not a cloud on her clear steady eye, not a
dew drop on her honeyed lip—but when he again
released her from his arms, a faint brief color
stole over her cheeks and brow, and, when it receded,
left her even paler than before—and a quick
shudder shook her limbs for a moment.
“Thus deal I with the stubborn,” said Ringwood,
as he let her go, “thus deal I with the insolent
and stubborn! see, if you like it not, that
you offend not in like sort again! and now, do as
I bid you, and make ready!”
As he spoke, he turned on his heel, and leaving
the cabin, rejoined his subordinates on deck, and
shortly after going down into the barge threw
himself at his full length on the cushions in the
stern sheets, and was pulled to shore as rapidly as
twenty vigorous seamen could ply their oars in
that calm basin. While she, deserted by the calm
resolution which had borne her up while in the
presence of her persecutor, and which a secret
instinct rightly taught her to be the only weapon
with which she could successfully oppose his forceful
violence, burst instantly into a wild agony of
tears and sobbing, and falling to the ground, continued
in a series of fainting fits and swoons, until
the terrified Cassandra, who had been twice already
summoned by the negroes, brought her back
to her senses, by her half frantic entreaties, that
she would arise and obey the orders of the Pirate,
if she would save her life or honor. Then she
aroused herself at once, as soon as she became
conscious of her handmaid's meaning; and casting
one of the velvet cloaks around her, by a strong
effort gulped down the whole of her hysterical
passion, wiped away the traces of her tears, and
followed the tall negro to the pinnace wherein his
fellow was already seated at the oar.
No princess of old Spain could have been treated
with more ample courtesy, more deep respect
by the most stately cavalier of her proud court,
than was Teresa treated by the two pirate blacks.
Not a glance of their bright eyes rested upon her
features for a moment, not a word was spoken,
but such as were of absolute necessity; and, when
she had taken her seat in the stern of the little
boat with the black girl crouching as usual at her
feet, the men took to their oars, and pulled as fast
as they were able, in perfect silence, toward the
sally-port at the base of the western bastion, upon
the battlements of which, the stately figure of the
great buccaneer was already visible, as he awaited
the arrival of his captive.
As the boat neared the port, however, he descended
from his lofty stand; and as the keel
grated upon the pebbly marge, the portcullis rose,
the gate flew open, and displayed him standing
within the low browed arch, a third negro, of
similar dimensions to those who were assisting
the girls from the boat, holding a flambeau at his
side.
They had not entered one second's space, before
the iron grating was again lowered, and the heavy
gate swung back, leaving the boatman on the outer
side, and Teresa found herself in a low narrow
vaulted passage stretching away into interminable
darkness, though continually ascending by flights
of broad flat steps, as if toward the daylight; but
little being rendered visible by the smoky torch of
the negro who preceded them in silence, except
the key-stones of the rude arch overhead, and the
mildewed walls on the right hand and left.
“Take my arm, girl,” exclaimed Ringwood,
“and lean on it!—mind what I say to you, and
forget not the lesson I was compelled to teach you,
even now; which, by the heaven above us! shall
be as nothing to that which you shall learn, if you
be any more refractory!”
Pale as the winter's snow, and scarce less cold,
she took his proffered arm, in silence but untrembling;
and she did lean on him, for in good truth
she was scarce able to support herself even when
she entered; and the dank mildew vapors of that
cold vault, wherein the drops of moisture were
constantly detaching themselves from the roof and
plashing on the muddy earth, had yet more overpowered
her, so that full surely she had lacked
the strength to drag her limbs along, had she not
been supported by the nervous arm of Ringwood,
to which she clung with a convulsive gripe of
which she was indeed scarce conscious.
After walking for some distance through this
deep covered way, having ascended not less than
a hundred steps at different times, and in various
places—they reached a huge oak door clenched
with large nails, which gave them access to a tall
winding staircase, carried up through a shaft in
the earth, similar to a well, each step being a
beam of solid timbers, hewn rudely with the axe,
and all unconscious of the adze or plane of the
neat-handed joiner. After ascending this rugged
stairway, they reached a little vestibule, above
the level of the ground, the floor and walls of
which were covered with neat Indian mattings,
lighted by a long shot-hole or crenele, through
which a golden sunbeam, full of a million dancing
motes, streamed in, filling the little space
with glorious light and gaiety, which seemed more
lovely to those who viewed it in close contrast to
the swart darkness of the subterranean galleries,
which they had but just quitted. From this small
vestibule a second staircase, wrought in the thickness
of the wall, quickly conducted Ringwood and
his fair captive—close to whom crept, more terrified
a thousand times than her pale mistress, the
black slave girl Cassandra—to a well lighted airy
hall, overlooking—as it was easy to perceive—
from the upper story of the Rover's keep, the
whole green end of the pirate fortress, with the
gay dwellings and the glassy bay, and the beautiful
vessels moored in their several berths, all
laughing out in the glad golden sunlight, which
poured down every where over the wide spread
tropical forests, and over that small inland lakelet,
from the soft smiling heavens.
The hall in which they stood, lighted by four
tall lattices, and looking down upon that romantic
view, was itself worthy of attention from its
magnificent and tasteful decorations. The ceiling
of dark Indian wood, from which swung a vast
golden lamp that once had decked some sacred
edifice, was polished till it shone like a mirror;
the walls, covered with hangings of green velvet,
were all adorned with groups of glittering weapons,
disposed in rare and picturesque patterns of
every singular variety of form and purpose. Shirts
of ringmail, and corslets of bright plate, and
casques embossed with gold circular shields of
oriental fashion, Damascus cimiters, and Spanish
blades, and rare Italian daggers, all glittering
with gems and flashing to the morning sun. The
floor was carpeted with velvet, and a divan of the
same rich material, corded and laced with gold,
ran round the walls of the apartment; while on a
massive table was spread a sumptuous collation,
with many flagons of rich wine, and tall Venetian
glasses, among rich meats and vases full of the
dewy flowers of that rare southern clime. There
were no tenants to this splendid hall, but from a
door that faced the staircase, which had been partially
left open, there came the mingled sounds of
more than one sweet low toned female voice; and
once or twice a long soft thrilling laugh, that
seemed to speak a heart at ease and happy. These
sounds were followed, just as the Rover led his
prisoner into that noble hall, by a light air touched
exquisitely on a lute, and accompanied by a
rich clear melodious voice of a girl singing. Her
execution was admirable—her tones thrilled to
the very heart like liquid fire—but alas! the song
was so passionately, painfully voluptuous, that it
could have flowed from no modest lips, and should
have been listened to by no modest ears. Pierced
to the soul, Teresa faltered, and stood still—but
Ringwood with a strong pressure of her arm, and
a stern whisper of his deep penetrating voice, saying,
“Beware! I say, beware, Teresa,” half led,
half bore her onward to the door whence came
those hateful sounds. He threw it open, and the
sight she saw, struck that unhappy girl,—more
than the most dreadful of the dread scenes she
had already witnessed—with agony and terror and
despair.
| CHAPTER VIII. Ringwood the rover | |