 | CHAPTER XXV.
THE PROGRESS OF THE RIVALS—VASCO NUNEZ ON THE WATERS. The damsel of Darien |  |
25. CHAPTER XXV.
THE PROGRESS OF THE RIVALS—VASCO NUNEZ ON THE WATERS.
In such manner, day after day, and week after week, did
the impatient spirit of Vasco Nunez repine at his confinement.
To the generous spirit there is nothing so painful
and oppressive, as the lack of stirring and manly employment;
and to one, having such hopes as the cavalier in
question, and plans of such vast extent, and purposes of
such daring achievement, his present state of inglorious restraint
fretted his soul into fever, and made him querulous
and unjust to himself, and to the friends who were still
striving, though secretly, in his behalf. No one laboured
for him more assiduously than the venerable astrologer, to
whose watchful care he was indebted for provisions no less
than wholesome counsel, and warming promises of better
times. The old man never once relaxed in his kindnesses,
and his confidence in his own glowing predictions in the
cavalier's favour, seemed, indeed, to gather new strength
and ardour at those very moments when the fickle fortune
appeared most inclined to baffle them. But it needed
something more than fair promises and friendly words to
restore the buoyant spirit of hope to the warrior who had
been so lately and so severely tried by fortune. He listened
without reply to the enthusiastic fancies of the aged man,
whose words scarcely penetrated his ears, and failed utterly
to sink into his heart as formerly. Stretched at length,
among the low crags that rose beside the sea, and were
sometimes half-buried in its waters, he maintained a mournful
watch along the gloomy waste, his eyes peering far
into those obscure realms into which his fancy had already
gone with the eagle-speed of a conqueror. When he replied
to the venerable man who sought to soothe and
watch which they maintained, and his words were few,
and his thoughts, such as those of a mind which was far
away in other realms, and filled with occupations foreign
to the dull inaction of the miserable life he led. Nor did
the sluggish necessity under which he groaned fail to impress
itself upon his personal aspect. His eyes grew
sunken and dim—his cheeks sallow, and the thick beard,
activity and unheeded, spread itself over his face, making
wild and frightful those noble features, which had been
esteemed no less beautiful than manly. The same indifference
of mood to the ordinary matters of his appearance,
extended itself to his garments, and but few could have recognised
the once courtly cavalier in the savage and seemingly
unconscious figure that sometimes crouched like a
hungry vulture along the steeps that hung above the sea,
and sometimes lay out-stretched, heedless of its rising waters,
along the narrow ledges that encountered and broke
the first rude assaults of the swelling surges. With a
seemly similarity of mood, the devoted hound, who had
so long followed the fortunes of his master in days of more
activity and better reward to both, crouched with him on
the steeps, or lay beside him on the ledges, or with an instinct
that is sometimes of more avail than any human reason,
watched the sinuous and secluded pathway which led
to his place of refuge, ready, as it were, to warn him of
danger, and meet death in his defence. But the pursuers
never reached him in the shelter to which he fled, though
strife and overthrow itself at times seemed far preferable to
the impatient spirit, pining with its constrained inactivity;
and weary weeks and months finally went by, until the
prisoner among the rocks, as effectually a prisoner as if he
had been the tenant of the dungeons of Obando, began to
apprehend that he had been utterly forgotten, both by
friends and fortune—that the day of his release was gone
by for ever, and the dreadful decree of stagnation had gone
forth against him, leaving him to a life of such apathy as
that of the weed, that sinks and rises only with the heavings
of the sluggish sea, on the green edges of which it
sleeps and festers for ever.
But the hour of change was at hand; that change which
is alone constant, among all the things and thoughts of life.
One day, when he least looked for better hopes, the venerable
toiled in his behalf without faltering, brought him joyful
tidings which promised him relief. News had reached
San Domingo of the armament of Ojeda and of Nicuesa;
and the desponding spirit of Vasco Nunez, which no word
of his companion hitherto seemed able to awaken or enkindle,
now leapt with the keenest emotions as he hearkened
to the narration of his rivals' fortunes. His impatience to
hear the tidings scarcely suffered the old man to proceed.
“But thou hast not said, Micer Codro, who hath brought
this intelligence. Can it be that Ojeda hath returned from
his enterprise? He hath not surely made discoveries of
such profit in such little space.”
“No! he hath done little, if the truth be told, either to
profit his fortune or his fame. He hath been rash and
headstrong, as thou saidst he would be, and hath been in
grievous peril and suffering, from which nothing had saved
him but the timely succour of the Señor Diego. Juan
de la Cosa, whose sober counsel he scorned to take, hath
been slain by the Caribs, and though the ship which Ojeda
sends brings many captives, and much gold, it will count as
nothing against his losses, which have been great, and his
sufferings, which are marvellous to hear.”
“Let me hear them. But first, give me to know what
hath been the course of Ojeda. What point did he first
make after departure from San Domingo?”
“Cartagena—thou knowest the place.”
“Ay—I sailed with Bastides when it was first discovered
by the Spaniards in 1501. La Cosa was his pilot
then. The people are Caribs, with swords of palm-wood,
and poison their arrows. The women fight with a lance.
He had need to keep close watch among these savages,
who are no such timid wretches as these Haytien islanders.”
“They soon taught him this, for though la Cosa counselled
Ojeda to leave Cartagena for the shores of Uraba,
the headstrong captain landed with his troops, and demanded
the instant submission of the savages.”
“They answered him with darts and defiance, and the
battle soon followed, as one may swear who knows the
fiery temper of Ojeda. Well—”
“The Indians were routed and fled—the Spaniards pursued,
taking gold and prisoners at every step, till when
enemy. This they overcame, slew many, scattered the
rest, and dispersed themselves in pursuit.”
“The madmen! what followed then—an ambuscade?”
“As thou say'st, thousands of savages suddenly rushed
out in troops from all parts of the forest, and the scattered
bands of the Spaniards vainly strove to come together.
But they were overwhelmed by numbers, and sank on
every side beneath clubs and poisoned arrows.”
“And Ojeda—he fell not?” demanded the impatient
Vasco Nunez, his blood rising into heat at the narration.
“He did not perish, nor could he fly at such a moment!
what then, what did he?”
“With the danger, he drew those immediately around
him to the shelter of a small enclosure. Here the savages
beleaguered him. It was here that La Cosa perished and all,
marvellous to relate, but Ojeda himself.”
“How escaped he?”
“By sallying forth amidst the enemy like one whom
they could not harm, and disarming the danger by seeking
it in its home. The Indians terrified by his deeds, his
skill and fleetness, left him an open pathway for escape.
But of seventy Spaniards that followed Ojeda in this mad
incursion, but one escaped, to bear the last words of La
Cosa to his captain.”
“What of him—what of Ojeda then? Did the savages
fail to pursue him?”
“Days after, the people from the ships found him, after
close search, half dead among a thicket of mangroves,
growing on the sea-side. He was lying among the rocks,
and though speechless from cold and hunger, he yet bore
his sword in his stiffened hand and his buckler on his
shoulder.”
“A most headstrong, but a gallant fool. I rejoice me
that he lives. It were a pity so brave a man should perish
by such miserable folly. Were he wise and more temperate
he were well fitted for great things. But thou hast
not spoken of Nicuesa—it does not seem that he gave
succour to Ojeda in his peril.”
“His perils are not yet over. They brought him, feeble
and spiritless, to the sea-shore, and while they were yet
administering to his wants with food and wine, the squadron
of Nicuesa came in sight. This troubled Ojeda, when
threats which he had so freely spoken against his rival—
and hiding himself again within the woods, he bade his
people conceal from Nicuesa the place of his retreat. But
the Señor Diego, like a noble gentleman, forgave his follies,
bade them bring Ojeda to his vessel, and joined arms with
him to revenge his losses upon the savages who had occasioned
them. This done, the spoil was shared evenly between
them, and they separated, the Señor Diego taking
his course for Veragua, while Ojeda steered for the gulf of
Uraba, as he had been counselled by La Cosa from the first.
Here he hath chosen a place for his town, and hath built a
wooden fortress, and houses for his people. The place he
calls San Sebastian, because of the arrows by which the
Caribs hath given him such lessons to remember. It is
to this place he hath summoned the Bachelor Enciso, as to
his seat of government, the Bachelor having already the
appointment of his alcalde mayor.”
“The encouragement is small for one better skilled in
argument than strife, and Enciso will soon discover that
the toil were more profitable, even if burdened with less
honour, to glean the spoils of the infidel at second-hand,
from the adventurer who hath risked his life to procure
them, than to peril his own person against the Caribs—
what saith he at these tidings of Ojeda, and the summons
to his judicial dignity?”
“The captives and the gold have reconciled him to his
fortune. He is a person possessed—already he speaks in
the tone of one having power over thrones and principalities.
He hath employed all the criers to gather recruits
for Ojeda, and with the profits from the sale of captives
and the gold sent by Ojeda, he hath begun to lay in large
stores and munitions of war in compliance with the demands
of his governor. Ere long he will be fit for sea,
having a stout vessel already at his command, half manned,
and needing but little farther preparation to hoist sail and
anchor for the voyage.”
“And how am I to be served by all this?” was the abrupt
quession of the cavalier when the excitement in his
mind, occasioned by the narrative of the astrologer, had so
far subsided as to leave him in a fit mood for reflection.
“Fortune favours even the headstrong fool, and the
greedy, avaricious pettifoger, while she defeats my purpose,
me of these things, Micer Codro; if I am to perish here,
as little useful or active as the rock I sleep on, yet with a
burning impatience within me like that which sometimes
heaves the rock into the heavens in storm and thunder,
better that I should know nothing of these strifes and
triumphs of men more blessed by fortune. Better that
Ojeda should find the southern sea, and Nicuesa glean the
treasure from the regions of the sun beyond, yet no tidings
of their triumph reach my ears, than that thou shouldst
goad me with my own loss in the story of their mighty
gain.”
And he turned once more to the sullen and dark ocean
that lay shadowed before him under the frown of the overhanging
mountain, with the sullen mood rising anew in his
bosom which it had before possessed, and a spirit doubly
desponding because of these tidings of the partial successes,
or at least, the freedom for enterprise of others, for
which his own heart so earnestly repined. The devoted
astrologer, with the indulgent affection of a parent, laid
his hand upon the arm of the down-hearted man, as he replied—
“But thou art not to perish on these weary rocks, nor,
my son, art thou destined by the blessed fortune, to waste
more precious hours in this constraint, which seems to me
not less than to thee, like a consuming bondage. The tidings
which I have brought thee, have a meaning for thy
ears, and an interest in thy fate beyond what I have yet
spoken. What sayst thou to a flight from Hispaniola
where death only awaits thee, to the very region of Uraba
where Ojeda hath placed his government? What sayst
thou to a flight in the ship which Enciso is preparing for
those golden regions?”
“But can this be done?” cried Vasco Nunez, leaping to
his feet with a new vigour in his limbs, a new light in his
eyes, a fresh spirit in his soul—“do not mock me, Micer
Codro, with false hopes; I tell thee, if thou dost—”
“I do not mock thee, Vasco Nunez—this can be done.”
“Hath Enciso said—”
“He hath said nothing. He shall know nothing of thee
or of our purpose—not at least, until we are far from San
Domingo, and there is little prospect of our soon return.
Hear me—we have friends engaged in this armament, who
expedition in Veragua. They will uphold thee even against
Enciso, should he, when at sea, attempt to do thee injury.
With their assistance we have secured the favour of Valdivia
who will proceed as second in command to Enciso,
and by whom, when his chief is absent, thou shalt be admitted
to a secret place in the vessel where thou shalt be
secure.”
“I like not this stealth—this secrecy:—and to be within
the power of a creature like Enciso, alone with his creatures,
and without power to contend with them,—it is a
humbling necessity alone that can bring me to yield to
this,” replied the proud-spirited cavalier.
“And is there more humbling necessity than that which
keeps thee here,—a fugitive threatened with death, if taken,
for a crime of which thou art innocent? Can there be a
more humbling necessity than that which deprives thee of
thy strength and thy courage, and thy conduct and thy
spirit, and fetters thee to inaction, and the loss of fame and
fortune? While thou sleepest all day on these rocks, thy
rivals are striding with the wind to the southern seas and
mountains which they inhabit—while thou scruplest to
avail thyself of the only chance which fortune hath offered
thee for months, the daring Ojeda is rushing through the
savage tribes that border the gulf of Uraba; and, crossing his
province of Veragua, even the delicate Diego de Nicuesa is
winning his way to that hidden sea—”
“No more, no more, Micer Codro,” cried the cavalier,
interrupting him—“thou madd'st me with thy fancies, and
the very dog growls with a fury which he cannot otherwise
speak, as if he also knew the goading power of thy language.
Do with me as thou wilt,—though were it the
vessel of the foul fiend himself, it would move me with no
more disquiet to enter it, than it now moves me to enter
that of Hernando de Enciso.”
“And God himself works—we have it from undoubted
lips—by the powers of evil. Shall it be that one of his
creatures should refuse the help which comes to us from
an agent of sin? Let us use the evil for good, my son, and
the evil is good; but know we not that it is in man's power
so to toil as to make sinful of sacred things, curses of
blessing,—nay, Satan hath the very forms and attributes of
thing that is touched—in the purpose of the mind, not in
the deed of limb or weapon; and when thou knowest that
the steps which thou takest on board this vessel of the
base Enciso, is a step described for thee by the stars—by
the hand of Heaven itself—then is there nothing in thy
employment of his agency which can do thee hurt or dishonour.”
Such were the arguments by which the astrologer strove
to reconcile Vasco Nunez to the necessity which was before
him, of escaping from his peril and restraint, by employing,
in secrecy and stealth, the means of another and
an enemy. The necessity itself was a stronger argument
than any offered by the old man's philosophy, and sorely
troubled to the last at the humiliation which he naturally
felt in resorting to such an expedient, Vasco Nunez, availing
himself of the cover of the night, descended to the city
of San Domingo, and was received by friends who awaited
him, on board the vessel of Enciso. There he remained
hidden from the searching eyes of the Bachelor, until after
his sailing, and when they had gone too far to admit of his
being brought back to San Domingo. Two days after the dialogue
just narrated, our hero was far upon the seas, making
his way to that land of promise, as a fugitive, which he
once hoped to penetrate as a conqueror. And who, misguided
by present aspects, shall say he comes not as a conqueror
even now? Who shall pierce the future, and describe
that capricious Fortune, unstable as the waves, uncertain
as the winds which had so long baffled his barque
of hope, and which now bore him on his course rather as a
convict than a favourite? The coming hours grow with
events which the past hath never promised; and the vessel
which, laden with golden treasures, sinks to the deepest
hollows of the sea, still rises to the surface, when lightened
of the burden for which it was built by the cunning hand
of man. Well had the astrologer spoken to the cavalier,
when, in allusion to the security which attends the destitute,
he said—“By reason of thy lightness shalt thou fly, my
son, and as thou art buoyant in thy spirit, shalt thou float.
Cast from thee these clouds of thought and of apprehension
that weigh thee down when thou shouldst fly, and yield thee
to any breeze, blow from whence it listeth, which will bear
into the jaw of fortune, and the very defiance of such
a spirit, like that of the careless cavalier to the capricious
dame, will sooner bend her to thy purpose, than thy
prayers or thy repinings. Hadst thou made this thy rule
in approaching Teresa Davila—”
“Name her not to me, Micer Codro,” replied the cavalier,
in cold, stern accents—“I would hear of her no
more!”
| CHAPTER XXV.
THE PROGRESS OF THE RIVALS—VASCO NUNEZ ON THE WATERS. The damsel of Darien | |