 | CHAPTER XI. Ringwood the rover |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
As she gazed down upon the moonlit esplanade,
Teresa saw a tall dark figure creep out with catlike
stealthy tread from beneath the verandah of
the large building nearest to the sea; and, keeping
itself with great care inside the darkest shadows,
drag itself inch by inch toward the stone bastion
at the right hand termination of the battery;
whereon she clearly saw the pirate sentinel stalking
his solitary round upon the rampart, the long
bright barrel of his shouldered harquebuse glancing
like silver in the moon light. At first she gazed
with simple wonder, wholly unmixed with curiosity
or interest, upon the movements of the dark
shadowy form; but suddenly, as he crossed a
streak of moonshine, it struck her with the speed
of light that his was a well known figure; and instantly
a train of recollections, all hitherto forgotten,
flashed on her—the name Antonio—the voice,
now well-remembered of the unseen messenger—
it was—it must be! the black fisherman, the
trusted guide and hunter of her loved Amadis!
She now strained all her eyes, her heart, her spirit,
to mark what was his progress, not doubting for
a moment that ere long she would be set free,
whether by death or rescue—while she had been
engaged, brief as they were, in these imaginations,
she had lost sight for a moment or two of the dark
gliding figure; and when she turned her eyes
again toward the spot, it was no longer visible;
and, what seemed stranger yet, the pirate sentinel
no longer paced the bastion, although his comrade
could be distinctly seen leaning against an angle
near the sallyport, by which Teresa had gained
entrance, at the further end of the lines. Suspecting,
more than ever, now that something great
was on the point of happening, she gazed yet more
intently; yet nothing might she see of him, whom
she believed, with all the confidence of youth and
inexperience, to be a friend and rescuer within
the pirate's hold. Tired at length with watching
the long line of vacant ramparts, she looked again
toward the sleeping soldier, and as she did so,
from the dark shadow of the ravelin and trench
she saw a coal black figure leap, with the blithe
and muscular action of a tiger bounding upon his
prey, on the unconscious pirate—something bright
flashed once or twice aloft in the clear moonshine,
and the struggle was ended in a moment, the hapless
sentinel falling a scarce less conscious victim
to his swift secret foe.
A moment more, and the victor had donned the
scarlet watch cloak of his fallen enemy, and was
now boldly traversing the whole line of the esplanade,
stopping and stooping down for a moment
or two at regular intervals, while a faint clinking
sound, heard indistinctly from the distance, gave
note, even to the inexperienced ear of Teresa, that
he was engaged in spiking all the cannon. After
this task was ended, disencumbering himself of
the watch cloak, he crept down to the water's
edge, and plunging into the calm basin swam
straight for his pirogue, swung himself by a rope
to the deck, and for several minutes' space was
lost to the anxious gaze of the Spanish maiden.
He re-appeared at last, however, from the hold,
accompanied by ten or twelve men, whom by their
corslets and steel caps, and the long barrels of
their Spanish muskets, she knew at once to be
Castilian soldiers—within a moment they had
lowered away the pinnace, which hung at the pirogue's
stern, and entering it, pulled openly across
the basin toward the Rover's barque; the sentinels
on which, seeing that their boat came directly
as it appeared to them, from the water-gate of the
fortress, hailed not, nor uttered any challenge, but
suffered the pinnace to come to under her very
stern, and her crew to scale her bulwark unopposed;
all of which Teresa might behold distinctly
by clear moonlight. What farther passed she
knew not; but in a little while she saw a bright
light shown from the windows in the stern, and
at the same time the vessel began to swing round
slowly so as to bring her broadside, which had so
lately borne full on the entrance of the basin, to
cover the dwellings of the buccaneers.
For a little while longer she watched steadfastly
the basin and the vessels, but nothing took
place any more, although she staid beside the
lattice till the moon set behind the tree-tops, and
deep darkness settled down over the glimmering
prospect. Then fancying that nothing would take
place that night, and fearing lest Bella might return
and find her watching, she turned away and
walked toward her couch. In doing so, however,
she passed another casement, which looked out
toward the forest in the rear; on which side, fearless
of any sudden onslaught, and confiding in the
remoteness of their station, surrounded as it was
by forests, everglades, impenetrable hammocks,
and morasses—pathless save to the wandering
Indian—the pirates kept no watch; and, as she
passed it, another sight flashed on her eyes, even
more wonderful as it appeared to her, than aught
she had yet witnessed—a long and regular line of
dull red sparks, not larger than the luminous firefly
of that region, and scarce so brilliant, were
winding round the outer side of the ditch, which
one point, they clustered close together, and then
descended, as it seemed, into the deep wet fosse.
Then! then! her very soul on the alert, for she
had seen and heard enough of warfare to know
that those dull sparks were kindled matches of a
long line of musqueteers, she threw the lattice
open; and leaning out into the dewy night air,
listened intently—nor did she listen long, before
the grating of a saw was clearly audible; although
by no means loud enough to wake a sleeper; or
scarce, perhaps, to rouse the dull perceptions of
an uninterested watcher—after a time the sound
was heard no more, and very soon the little lights
might be seen, one by one, emerging from the
hither side, and forming in close order within the
esplanade, which they had actually entered all
unmolested and unseen, save by a friendly eye—
and now Teresa knew that friends were close at
hand, and rescue almost certain. Yet now she
trembled more than in her hour of peril, and was
so shaken in her every nerve, that when she
kneeled to pray and offer up her tribute of thanks-giving,
her tongue refused its office, her senses
failed her, and she sank fainting on the velvet
carpet, so that she saw, rest as she might, or any
other, who had gazed seaward from that height,
almost at the same point of time wherein the
footman passed the palisades, the tall white sails
of a huge Spanish caravella, steal ghost-like
through the shadows of the trees that fringed the
outlet, towed by a dozen boats pulled noiselessly
with muffled oars, into the middle of the basin.
Another—and another—and yet another followed;
and, strange to tell! though no slight noise attended
their proceedings, they, with the captured
barque of Ringwood, were moored within half
pistol shot of the batteries, the guns of which were
all, as has been seen, spiked and so rendered useless,
their cannon bearing full on the defenceless
dwellings of the buccaneers, and their boats ready
to land with their armed crews at a moment's
notice, ere any ear had taken note of their arrival.
In another part of the Rover's keep, while all
this was in progress, even to the point of time
wherein Teresa fainted, there was a widely different
picture, had any eye been there to look
upon it. It was the very topmost turret of that
tall building—a small octagonal watch tower,
overlooking the whole esplanade below, and having
the breech of the huge gun, which has before
been mentioned, within six feet of its doorway,
which opened on the battlements. Access was only
gained to this high turret by a steep winding stairway
from the large armory below; and on the
platform, at the stair head, so that no living thing
could pass it without awakening them, were
stretched on a soft rug full armed for instant battle,
the two gigantic negroes.
This was the Rover's den, his last stronghold,
his chosen privacy. Lighted by day through eight
tall pointed windows, now muffled all by blinds
of Indian matting; and in the night by a large
brazen lamp, with four bright burners, it was as
light as life, though silent as the grave. It was
the plainest—nay! the only plain chamber of that
superb and gorgeous building; its floor and walls
being covered equally with the soft seats woven
by Indian girls, from the sweet aromatic seeds
and spicy grasses of that region—its furniture, two
or three camp stools of dark English oak, a centre
table of the same fabric, covered with maps and
plans of battles or the like, a silver standish and
a tall golden crucifix—and another large broad
slab of some Indian wood, littered with charts
and papers, instruments of astronomy and navigation,
pistols and dirks, and articles of clothing, (such
as fringed gloves, and feathered hats) and one or two
tall wine flasks, with a Venetian drinking glass of
scarce inferior height. Upon the walls hung many
suits of armor with fire-arms of rare and choice
construction, and swords of exquisite device and
manufacture. The only other article of furniture,
and that perhaps the most important in the chamber,
was a large low bedstead of oak, with a plain
cotton matress, and white draperies of simple
linen—and on that lowly bed reclined in deep,
though troubled slumber, the mighty frame of the
great English buccaneer, with his fair favorite by
his side, sleeping as calmly as a summer's night
upon a breezeless river. Her rich redundant curls
fell off in loose and wavy masses from her fair
brow, floating across the massive chest and muscular
shoulders of the buccaneer, on which that
brow was pillowed; her eyes were closed, but the
long fringe which curtained them was penciled
in distinct relief against her clear complexion—
the whole expression of her face, as she slept, was
exquisitely pure and child-like, and the soft smile
which nestled in the twin dimples of her rosy
mouth, seemed born of innocent and tranquil bliss.
So was it not with her companion. Dark frowns
and gloomy shadows chased one another fast and
thick over his broad expressive features—the sweat
stood in full bubbles on his turbulent brow—a
fierce sarcastic smile now writhed his pallid lips,
and now he laughed almost aloud, but with a scornful
and self-mocking laughter, such as the fiends
might use, jeering at stainless virtue. His great
chest heaved and fell, not with the regular pulsations
of healthful innocent sleep, but with convulsive
pants and throbbings—his arms were dashed
violently to and fro, with the hands clenched like
iron—such were the night dreams of the Rover,
judge by their effect, as fearfully were they dispelled.
A clear sharp ringing sound as of a musket
shot close to the inmost keep, rung through
the night air—one of the Indian allies of Don
Amidis having unconsciously discharged his arquebuse,
and so called down discovery—little, however,
if at all premature—on the attacking party.
Upon the instant, though the fair being by his
side yet slumbered all unconscious of alarm,
Reginald Ringwood sprung to his feet, fully awake,
and in the clearest mastery of his senses—one
bound—he stood upon the platform of the keep,
and in less time than it would have taken any
other man to mark one portion of the perils that
environed him, he had envisaged all; and seen the
only hope that was left to him. The invaders, as yet
knew not, it would seem, whether they were discovered,
and rested yet upon their arms; and Ringwood
seeing clearly that the exterior works were all
untenable already, and knowing that his only hope
of making good the citadel itself, depended on his
getting men to man his guns from the great barracks,
resolved to turn this brief inaction to advantage.
Before the very blacks had roused them
from their slumbers, he had sprung to the breech
of the huge cannon, had wheeled it round upon its
pivot—Herculean task for any single arm, how
puissant it might be soever!—had pointed it upon
the nearest, longest caravel, and, lighting a match
instantly from the lamp in his turret, had discharged
it on the foe. A broad bright glare shot
out into the bosom of the night, a cloud of snowy
volume was driven before it, and a roar, like that
of twenty thunder claps, shook the strong tower
to its base, and deafened for an instant every ear
that heard it. Before its echoes had subsided,
before the Spaniards, in turn, surprised, (for the
huge missile striking the great caravel amid-ships,
had cut her mainmast by the board, carrying with
it all the mizen tops) had poured in their answering
broadside, the Rover's bugle, wound clear and
lustily, the signal of recall, was heard by the
awakened pirates, who rushed half-dressed—their
weapons in their hands—from the rear of the buildings
to obey his signal. The instant he had fired
the cannon, a dozen stalwart blacks, Pluto and
Charon at their head, the garrison of this keep,
stood on the platform at his side, heavily armed
and ready. Dressing himself the while he spake,
he thundered forth his orders with strange rapidity
and wonderful precision—
“Pluto and Charon, away both of ye, down to
the southern sally port, unbar it on the instant,
holding it well in hand the while, to admit our
fellows from the barrack; but see ye let not the
Spaniards enter! You others, quick there, quick!
load the great culverin, and run it out again—see
that you keep the level—so, well done, lads—now
fire!” and with the words again forth burst the
stunning roar—“So, cheerily brave hearts—fight
it thus till the great caravel go down—then wheel
it on the next, and sink her likewise! I go to
man the inner ramparts. Ha! Bella, my sweet
girl,” he cried, as she came forth in disarray—
“down to your bower, my girl, and dight you!
Fore God, but I believe our time is come already!”
And with the word she darted down the stairway,
and reached the sally-port just as the buccaneers,
half-naked, scattered and dismayed, began to pour
in from the esplanade. But few and faint they
came, all breathless, many wounded, and some to
drop down dead the instant they had forced their
entry—for in a moment, after the Rover's unexpected
shot, the Spanish crews had started to their
guns, and five broadsides of very heavy metal
were poured into the clustered buildings of the
pirates, before they were yet well afoot, so that
the carnage was tremendous; then, when they
had rushed out, Don Amadis wheeled his two
hundred musqueteers into a line upon their flank,
poured in a shattering volley upon their scattered
masses, and then charged sword in hand with his
Castilian troopers, and all his Indian volunteers.
Darkness alone saved any from destruction, and
it was out of four hundred soldiers, for so many
alone had remained in the lines, scarcely a hundred
sound men entered, with perhaps fifty more,
wounded and wholly useless—not force, in short,
enough to man the guns, even at the rate of one
man to a cannon.
Still this mere handful was disposed, by the
wondrous genius of the Rover, with such rare
tact and skill, manning such guns alone as were
most useful, that until day-break he was enabled
not merely to repel the attacking parties, but to
beat them quite back from his lines with fearful
slaughter—three times he rallied, and each time
brought back his every man unharmed; leaving
the ground which he had traversed piled high with
carcasses, and reeking with hot gore. Meantime
the black crew on the keep plied the long culverin
with unabated zeal; its every bullet plunging into
the castled sides of the tall Spanish caravellas—
but not for that did they abate their murderous and
well sustained cannonading against the pirate barracks,
until not a stick or stone of them stood upright
to cover any foeman. Then, but not until
then, did they direct their fire on the keep; and
even then so distant was it from their guns, and
at an elevation so considerable, that their fire
did it but small damage, while, all the time, they
suffered heavily. Meantime, the armed boats
of the squadron landed; and their crews formed
Amadis Ferrajo; which, by the dint of energy
and zeal almost unparalleled, had forced their way
through tangled brakes and shaking quagmires,
over broad lakes and navigable rivers, to that impregnable
strong hold, as it was ever deemed by
the too confident and careless Rover.
Tremendous was the fate of every living being
who met the onslaught of the infuriate Spaniards
—no quarter was shown—none! neither to age
nor sex—to innocence, nor beauty! Hundreds of
miserable children were tossed upon the spearheads
of the pitiless avengers—hundreds of women
shot, or cut down, or spared only to glut for
a brief space the fierce lust of their captors.—
When the day dawned, woman nor child survived
—and not a groan was heard from the red slope—
red with their smoking gore!
Day dawned; and, as the light grew clear, the
weakness of the defenders was discovered; and
the assailants, forming in six columns, each column
equal to the whole force under Ringwood, rushed
desperate to win the ramparts. The guns were
necessarily silent after the first discharge, for it
was needful now that each man should fight hand
to hand, or let the lines be carried! And they
were carried in ten minutes! for though the buccaneers
fought like incarnate devils, though Ringwood
bore a charmed life, setting it fifty times
upon a die and still unwounded, man after man
was piked or cut down by his side, until the two
blacks alone, with four or five English pirates,
were left alive, and able to wield weapons.
“In with you, Pluto and Charon—into the keep
and hold the gate in hand—now! Anson, Falconer,
ha! Gambier, too, and Drake, one charge
more on these dogs of Spain,—one for St. George
and England!” And with the words, the five
men dashed upon a column, headed by Amadis
Ferrajo, of full two hundred veterans rushing in,
with their leveled pikes, by the great gate which
they had stormed—three men went down at
three strokes of the Rover; and his last troopers
seconded him like men, and gallant ones, if guilty!
—the column wavered; but Amadis rallied it instantly
with words of fire, and charged resistless!
one by one down went Ringwood's men pierced
each with fifty wounds, each fighting till he fell
“for England! merry England!”
The Rover stood alone—but what recked he of
that? he crossed swords with Don Amadis, beat
down his guard, dealt him a blow that would have
stretched him lifeless on the plain, but that his rapier
shivered to the grasp—shot two men with
his pistols—seized a third round the waist, who
would have stopped him; and hurled him to the
earth, so that the blood gushed from ears, eyes,
and mouth, and he stirred hand no more—rushed
through the castle gate, and ere its bars were fast
behind him, stood in the presence of Teresa, all
grim and gory, but unwounded.
| CHAPTER XI. Ringwood the rover | |