University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Brief time had the young Spaniard and
his Indian princess for explanation, or for
converse, for while she was yet clasped to
his grateful breast in the first sweet embrace
of love, a long wild yell rung far
into the bosom of the night from the cave's
mouth above, and the broad glare of a hundred
torches, tumultuously brandished by as
many strong and savage hands, disclosed to
the eyes of the astounded fugitives the
fierce cacique himself, surrounded by the
flower of his wild chivalry, armed at all
points, with bow and buckler, war-club and
javelin, and pike, thronging the rocky
threshhold of that deserted dungeon. Each
swarthy figure stood out revealed on that
bold eminence like animated sculptures of
the far-famed Corinthian brass; the sinewy
frames, the well developed muscles, nay!
more, the very features of every stern
cacique, the plumy crowns, and pictured
quivers, all clearly visible and palpably
defined against the fierce red glow which
formed the back ground to that animated
picture. Brief time was there, indeed! for
instantly discovering the mode by which
the fugitive had left his place of confinement,
and guessing that his flight was but
recent—for though the crimson glare of
their resinous torches rendered the group
above as visible as daylight could have
done, it lacked the power to penetrate the
gloom which veiled the little knot of beings
at the base of that huge precipice. Two of
the boldest of the great cacique's followers
addressed themselves to the pursuit by the
same fearful and precarious ladder; while
many others might be seen casting aside
the heavier portions of their dress and
armature, and girding up their loins for a
similar purpose.

“Haste, haste, Hernando,” whispered
the Indian maiden, in a voice that fairly
trembled with agitation—“haste to you
thicket by the stream—fly thou, Alonzo,
and unbind the horses! Come, Orozimbo—
brother!”

And as she spoke, grasping her lover by
the arm, she hurried him away to a dense
mass of thorny brushwood, which, overcanopied
with many a vine and many a
tangled creeper, clothed the banks of a wide,
brawling streamlet, flowing with a loud,
incessant murmur, though in a slender
volume, over a bed of gravel, and small
rocky fragments, detached, in the lapse of
ages, from the tall crag that overhung it.
Here, fastened to the branches, stood three
Spanish chargers, equipped with the lightest
housings then in use, except that one, in
addition to the saddle, was provided with a
velvet cushion attached to the cantle, and
kept in its place by a thong, securing it to
the richly plated crupper.

“Mount, mount, Alonzo,” cried the
maiden; “stay not to hold your master's
stirrup; mount, and delay not! Every
minute now is worth a human life!” While
yet the words were on her lips, the page
had leaped into his saddle, and swinging
her slight form, with scarce an effort, to the
croup of the tall charger, Hernando, without
setting foot in stirrup, vaulted into the
saddle before her, grasped the reins firmly
with a practiced hand, and stirring hissteed's
mettle with the spur, role a few paces
down the channel of the stream, till he had
reached a place clear from the overbowering
brushwood. The boy Alonzo followed
hard on his traces, leading the third horse
by the bridle, at his side.

“Where—oh where tarries Orozimbo?”
whispered again the Charib maiden, in a
sweet low voice of her native tongue—
“without him, all is naught!”

Ere she had finished speaking, they
cleared the thicket, and by the strong illumination
of the lights above, a fearful scene
was rendered visible. The foremost two of
the pursuers were half way down the ladder,
while three of their followers had commenced
their perilous descent, and were
now hanging to the topmost rungs! But
where was Orozimbo?—for though the
torch-light was of far more avail to them,
who profited by its partial lustre from a
distance, than to those whose eyes, blinded

by its near presence, looked abroad vainly
into the surrounding darkness—the bottom
of the precipice, and all the thicket round,
were buried in impenetrable gloom. Where
—where was Orozimbo?

A sharp twang broke the silence which
had succeeded to the yell of the infuriate
Indians. A keen, sharp ringing twang! a
hurtling sound, as of some missile in quick
motion, followed—a long, dark streak was
seen almost immediately glancing within
the circling radiance of the torches, toward
the leading Charib—at the next instant he
relaxed his hold—a piercing yell of anguish
and despair pealed up to the dark heavens
—headforemost the tawny savage plunged
earthward—and the soft, heavy plashing
noise announced, as plainly as the clearest
words could tell, that not one bone remained
unbroken after that fearful fall! Another
twang—and yet another!—and almost
simultancously, with the small, shrill voice
of the fatal cord, another, and another of
the wretched Indians, transfixed by the unerring
shafts of Orozimbo, were precipitated—one
shrieking hopelessly but incessantly
through the deaf air, until the awful
crash finished his cries and agonies together
—one mute in his stern despair—from their
slight foothold; while, daunted by the deadly
archery of their unseen enemy, and ignorant
how many foes were launching death at
every shot among them, the survivors retreated
up the ladder, with wild haste, and
when they reached the summit, a long drawn
yell, strangely expressive of malice frustrated,
and disappointed vengeance, told
those who heard it from below that they
abandoned that precarious method of pursuit.
Another moment, and the light passed
from the verge, and a loud burst of dissonant
and angry voices, receding rapidly, betokened
that the pursuers had turned off to
seek some easier exit from the hill-fortress.

Secured thus, by the bravery and foresight
of her stripling brother, from a pursuit
so instantaneous that escape would have
been scarce possible, Guarica called aloud,
no longer fearing to betray their proximity
to the enemy by her words:

“Hasten, good brother, hasten! We
tarry for thee, Orozimbo,” and guided by the
accents of her well known voice, panting
from the rapidity of his previous motions,
and from agitation in a scarcely less degree,
with his full quiver rattling on his
naked shoulders, and the long bow, which
had of late done such good service, swinging
at his back, the Charib boy darted
down the slight declivity, and, wreathing
his hand lightly in the courser's mane,
bounded at once upon his back.

“Follow, Guarica; follow me close:
there is no time for words,” he exclaimed,
as he snatched the bridle, and dashing at
once into a gallop, drove down the pebbly
channel of the stream—the small stones
and water flashing high into the air at
every stroke of the fleet steed, and indicating
to Hernando the direction which his
guide had taken. No easy task was it,
however, to ride down that wild watercourse;
for though the streamlet was so
shallow that it barely reached the horses'
knees, the rugged inequalities of its bed—
here thickly interspersed with rough and
craggy fragments, here paved with slippery
boulders, and there with broad smooth
ledges of hard slaty rock, polished by the
incessant rippling of the current, till ice
itself hardly would have afforded a less
treacherous foothold—rendered it perilous
indeed, save to a cavalier of the first order,
to put a horse to his speed among its
numerous obstacles. At first, the youthful
Spaniard could not conceive the cause
which should have tempted Orozimbo to
lead him by so strange a path; but busy as
he was in holding up and guiding the stout
charger which nobly bore his double freight,
his mind was actively employed: and almost
on the instant, remembering the instinct,
scarcely inferior to the scent of the sagacious
bloodhound, with which the Charib
tribes were wont to follow on the track of
any fugitive, he saw the wisdom of this
singular precaution. For something more
than two hours they dashed on unwearied,
through the sparkling waters, which, driven
far aloft, had draggled all their garments

from the buskin to the very plume—the
stream now wending in bold curves through
rich and fair savannahs, now diving into
the most devious shades of underwood and
forest. Still on they dashed, whether the
free night-wind, laden with its freight of
ten thousand dewy odors, sweeping across
the open meadows, brought freshness to
their heated brows—or the damp mist-wreaths
of the steamy forest chilled the
very life-blood in their veins. Still on they
dashed, rousing the wild fowl from their
sedgy haunts on the stream's margin, scaring
the birds of night from their almost
impervious roosts, till now the stars began
to pale their ineffectual fines, and a faint
streak on the eastern sky, to tell of coming
day. They reached a smooth green vega,
broader than any they had passed or seen,
and here, for the first time, Orozimbo
paused from his headlong race.

“All is well, now, Guarica—pursuit is
far behind; two leagues hence, just beyond
that fringe of wood which you may see
glooming dark against the opening morn,
tarry your gallant kinsmen, Don Hernando.
Many will blame us for the deeds which
we have wrought in thy behalf, young
Spaniard. All our countrymen must hate
us, and if we 'scape this 'venture, our
future home must be within the scope of
Spain's all-powerful protection. All peril
is over now for a space, and if thou art
weary, my sweet sister, here may we rest
a while.”

“No, no!” Guarica interrupted him,
breathless from the wild speed at which
they had thus far journeyed. “No, no! no,
no! we will not pause till we have reached
the cavaliers.”

“At least, however,” interposed Hernando,
using the Indian tongue, which was
no less familiar to him than his native language—“at
least, let us, if we be free
from present danger, ride somewhat gently,
in order that our steeds may so regain
their wind, and be in ease again to bear us
stoutly, if aught should call for fresh exertion
of mettle.”

“Be it so,” answered Orozimbo, turning
his horse's head, and riding as he spoke up
the green margin of the rivulet, till he
stood on the level meadow, where he was
joined by his companions—“Be it so.
Well I am assured no foeman could have
followed with such speed as to be less than
two leagues distant in our rear—and on
this open plain none can approach us undetected.
One hour's advance will bring
us to a band of horsemen, under the bold
Ojeda, that would contemn the might of
Caonabo's tribe.

Taking the lead once more, he trotted
gently forward, the daylight brightening
more and more till the great sun burst
from the cloudy veil that curtained his
bright orient chamber, and filled the earth
with lustre and rejoicing. Oh, how sweet
to the weary fugitives was that glad sun-burst,
awakening, as it did upon the instant,
the matutinal chorus of ten thousand joyous
warblers, and calling forth unnumbered
odors from the uprising flowers, which had
lain sad and scentless during the absence
of that glorious bridegroom. Hope, which
had languished in their bosoms during the
long night hours, was now at once transmuted,
by nature's wondrous alchymist,
into a gay and cheery confidence. Love,
which, oppressed by doubt, anxiety and
care, had been remembered only to aggravate
their sorrows and increase their
apprehensions, resumed, beneath that gladsome
light, its more legitimate and wonted
functions, and, before many moments had
elapsed, Hernando was recounting to the
attentive ears of the sweet Indian girl his
confident and certain expectations of an
immediate termination to all the obstacles
which had thus far opposed their union,
while he inquired eagerly into the late
mysterious history of his surprise, imprisonment
and rescue. Few words sufficed to
make all clear. Chance, alone—blind and
sudden chance—had brought about his capture—a
chance which had in fact preserved
the Spanish settlements from certain peril—
probable destruction. Apprised, as has
been mentioned heretofore, of the relaxed
discipline and contemptuous negligence of

military usages which had crept on the
garrison during the absence of its great
commander, the wily Charib had assembled
all his bold tributary hordes, and was even
then in full march to commence an onslaught
on walls which he most assuredly
would have found mounted with culverins
unloaded and watched—or unwatched
rather—by sentinels unarmed and sleeping.
And despite the exertions of Guarica, had
the assailants not been delayed by the arrival
of the duelists and the protracted conflict
which held the Charibs gazing in
mute wonder, Ojeda's tidings would have
been all too late to save the city from surprise.
As it was, he arrived just in time;
and the report of Caonabo's scouts, who reported
the garrison to be so thoroughly on
the alert that it was clear they must have
received intelligence, determined the cacique
to retreat instantly, and wait a better
opportunity.

Hernando's eyes had not deceived him;
for it was in truth Orozimbo, whom he had
seen disputing with Caonabo; and, as he
surmised, it was concerning himself that
the argument was maintained so angrily;
the young man insisting on his release, and
his uncle, maddened by his disappointment,
refusing positively to keep the word which
he had plighted for his safety.

This refusal perhaps it was which,
awakening a generous indignation on the
boy's part, determined him, yet more than
his sympathy in his beloved sister's affection,
to effect by one means or other the
escape of the young Spaniard. In this intent,
he judged it best to accompany the
band on their march; and to carry out his
plans better he appeared to acquiesce in
his uncle's views, and avoided all communication
with, or apparent interest in
the prisoner.

Within half an hour of the capture, however,
he contrived to send off news of what
had happened to his sister, by a messenger
on whom he could rely, desiring her to seek
aid from the very man to whom she was
most willing to apply, Alonzo de Ojeda;
and to meet him prepared with horses, and
with Spanish aid at hand, the next morning
at a point which he indicated.

Arrived at the hill fortress, he easily obtained
the release of Alonzo, on whom the
Charibs set no value, no condition that he
should be blindfolded until he was some
miles distant from the fort.

This once conceded, he seemingly gave
up all farther interest in Hernando; and,
on pretence of conveying the boy homeward,
had an interview with his father and
Ojeda, arranged all the farther particulars
of the escape, and conducted it with an
energy and skill which ensured its complete
success.

The only danger that remained now to
be apprehended was that some roving
band, several of which Orozimbo knew to
be out, might discover the bivouac of
Ojeda's horsemen, and, suspecting an
escape, attempt to ambush the fugitives.
Of this, however, there appeared to be
little risk, conducted, as their flight had
been, with so much craft and discretion;
and, if the worst should fall out, it would
be but a seeming skirmish, from which,
well armed and mounted, there was but
little to be feared.

All this Hernando soon learned from his
sweet companion; and, as they careered,
easily and freely, over the fair, green plain,
which stretched for miles around them, and
on whose broad champaign existed neither
dingle, brake, nor glen to shade a lurking
foeman, the certainty of safety and of freedom
lent wings to the young lover's buoyant
and exstatic soul. Well mounted and
well armed with weapons of offence—for
with his charger the bold and wary partisan
had failed not to send rapier and
pistolets, and battle-axe—he would have
cared but little had he been destined to fall
in with a score of roving Indians, but as it
seemed no such encounter was to be looked
for, much less apprehended.

And now the wide savannah was already
passed, and at the verge of the forest,
within a short half mile of the spot where
Ojeda waited their arrival, with ears and
soul intent on every sound that might betoken

their approach, they had to cross a
narrow streamlet, running between deep
and wooded banks. Orozimbo, who was
their guide, still led the way, was in the
middle of the ford, while Hernando with
the maiden was descending the steep path
which led to it, when the well known
twang of the Indian bow was heard, and
an arrow whizzed through the air, so truly
aimed that it passed through the Spaniard's
high-crowned hat.

“Push on,” cried the quick-witted youth
upon the instant; “push on, boy, to close
quarters,” aad, as he spoke, snatching a
pistol from his holster, he dashed his spurs
into his horse's flanks, and passing Orozimbo
in mid channel, drove up the opposite
ascent, followed by his page, sword in
hand.

Then from the brushwood rose a loud,
wild yell, accompanied by a flight of long
Charib shafts—close to the head and breast
of De Leon they hurtled, but none took
effect on him, or on Alonzo. A sharp cry
rung, however, from the rear, followed almost
immediately by a splash in the shallow
water, and then, with bridle loose and
blood-stained housings, the steed of Orozimbo
darted at a fierce gallop onward.
Scarce had Hernando reached the brow of
the ravine before, with leveled pikes and
brandished war-clubs, a dozen Charibs
rushed against him; and one, more daring
than his fellows, seized on his bridle rein.
Not half a second did he keep his hold, for,
leveled at a hand's breadth of his head,
Hernando's pistol flashed with unerring
aim—the bullet crashed through the Indian's
temples, and he fell without a word
or a groan beneath the charger's feet.
Rising upon the instant in his stirrups, the
bold cavalier hurled, with a sure and steady
hand, the discharged weapon in the face of
his next opponent. Then, before he had
even seen the effect, although it felled the
savage stunned and headlong to the earth,
he unsheathed his trusty rapier with one
hand, while with the other, casting his
bridle loose, he drew and discharged fatally
his second pistol.

All this had passed with the speed of
light, and Alonzo, having at the same time
cut down the first of his assailants, the Indians
broke away on all sides, and it seemed
as if they would have effected their escape;
and so in fact they might have done, had
the young Spaniard chosen to abandon Orozimbo
to his fate; but such was not his nature.
Reining his charger sharply up, he
turned his head, and called aloud upon the
faithful Indian. At the same point of time
the Charibs, who had scattered diverse
before his headlong charge, began again to
rally, and one, the boldest of their number,
fitting an arrow to his bow-string,
drew it with steady and swift aim quite to
the head, the cord twanged sharply, and
the shaft took effect right in the broad
breast of Hernando's war horse, transfixing
his embroidered poitrel. Headlong he fell
to earth, and as he fell the savages gaining
fresh courage, made a simultaneous rush
upon the hapless rider.

So speedily, however, had the skillful
soldier regained his foothold, and so powerfully
did he wield his rapier, that they still
feared to close with him absolutely. Not
so, however, with the fair Guarica, for dislodged
from her seat by the shock of the
charger's downfall, she had been thrown to
some yards distance, and seized, as soon as
she had touched the ground, by a gigantic
savage, who all athirst for vengeance and
for blood, brandished his ponderous war-club
round his head in the very act to
smite, while hampered by their numerous
foemen, neither Hernando nor the page
could possibly assist her at this fearful
crisis. Just at this moment, the fast, thick-beating
tramp of many horses at full gallop
was heard by both parties, and the continuous
crashing of the brushwood, through
which a band of Europeans was, it was evident,
advancing. The near sound, it would
seem, inspired both parties with fresh vigor
—the savages trying to finish their fell work
before they should be interrupted—the Spaniards
gaining confidence and hope from the
vicinity of friends. Too late, however,
would the arrival of Ojeda on the scene of

action have proved to save Guarica, though
now he might be even within two hundred
yards, plying his bloody spurs, and brandishing
aloft his formidable rapier. Thrice
did Hernando rush upon the Indians in the
vain hope of succoring his promised bride,
striking down at each charge a Charib warrior;
but each time he was driven back by
force of irresistible numbers; and nothing
could have saved her from sure death, had
not a bloody form, grim, ghastly, death-stricken,
arisen like a spectre from the
channel of the stream—armed with a Spanish
blade—faithful in death itself, young
Orozimbo! Though faint, and staggering,
he plied his keen sword with such mortal
energy, that all shrunk back from its down-right
descent. The chief who had seized
Guarica, and whose averted head beheld
not the approach of this new combatant,
received the full sway of its sheer edge on
his bended neck. Through muscle, spine
and marrow the trenchant blade drove unresisted.
Loosing his grasp upon his captive,
he dropped dead without a word or
struggle; and carried onward by his own
impetus the Charib boy fell over him, and
lay beside him in his blood—motionless, although
living still. A second more, and
with their battle cry, “Saint Jago!” the
fiery Spaniards were upon them—with
flash, and shot, and stab and stroke, till
not an enemy remained alive upon the bank
of the small stream, which late so pure and
lucid, flowed now all dark, curdled, and
thick with human gore. Ere yet the mortal
struggle was well over, Hernando
caught Guarica to his arms, and the page
Alonzo upraised the body of her faithful
brother from the earth, and wiped the foam
and gore from his pale lips, while the stern
Spaniards stood around, mute and awe-stricken,
leaning upon the weapons which
reeked yet with the homicidal witness.
One form was there beside Alonzo de Ojeda,
on whom Hernando's eyes, engrossed
by the sad spectacle before him, had not
yet fallen—a tall and noble form, gorgeously
clad in scarlet, with much lace and embroidery
of gold. But it was not the gor
geous dress, scarlet, nor lace, nor gold—
but the long locks of snow shading that
broad and massive brow—the air of conscious
dignity and inborn worth, the impress
of unutterable thought united to invincible
resolve, that stamped upon that
face and figure a natural majesty exceeding
that of princes—a majesty becoming
the discoverer of worlds! Silent he stood,
and sorrowful; while the boy Orozimbo,
placing the fair hand of his sister, who,
with her lover, knelt above him in speechless
agony of wo, in that of the young Spaniard,
strove hard but fruitlessly, against
the grasp of death, which was now grappling
with his very soul, to give his feelings
sound—gasping forth something of
which naught could be heard but the
words—“Take her, love and protect”—
his eyes rolled wildly, as he struggled to
fix them on the beloved brow of her for
whom he was dying—his lips were fearfully
convulsed, and with one murmur—
“Sister—sister!” he sunk upon the earth,
as still and senseless as its least valued
clod. Then that great man broke silence—

“This is the visible and present hand of
God! Take her, Hernando—she is yours
—yours in the face of man and before God!
Take her to be your wife, forever and forever—and
as to her you do prove faithful,
true, and loving—so may it be with you
and yours, here and hereafter!”

And the wide forest aisles re-echoed to
the deep “Amen,” which burst impressively
from the stern lips of the Spanish warriors.

The tenderness of her espoused lord effaced,
in time, the cloud from the fair Indian's
brow; and if the source of their first
early love was troubled, so was it not in
its meridian tide! Happy they lived, and
honored, and when at length they paid
the debt, which all must pay to nature, it
was among the tears of children so numerous
and noble, that to this very day many,
the grandest of Spain's nobility, are proud
to claim descent from Hernando de Leon
and his bright Charib Bride!