CHAPTER IV.
When the Spanish cavalier had entered the boat, Hildebrand seatedhim beside him, and then, in a low tone, directed the rowers togive way, and make for the ship.
Though a fresh breeze was abroad, the water, sheltered by thehigh land around, was calm and placid, and laved over the muffledoars in soothing silence. The boat glided over the quiet waveslike an arrow, yet, in the stillness and darkness that prevailed,seemingly without propulsion, and as though it moved by its ownunaided will through the rolling element.
After a brief interval, they came in sight of the ship, andshortly hove alongside of her. The look-out man, who wasstanding in the gangway of the ship, then threw them a rope, and,with cautious and noiseless steps, they severally mounted to thedeck.
On gaining the deck, Hildebrand’s first proceeding, in resumingthe command of his ship, was to ascend to the forecastle, and,by a glance around, ascertain the ship’s exact position. Hedistinguished the low hull of the gun-boat, which Halyard haddescribed to be lying alongside, somewhat ahead, at about agun-shot distance. He could not discern any one on her deck, andhe thought that, if the darkness continued, he might be able,with a little management, to pass her unobserved. If he succeededso far, he had no fear but he would pass the puntals, or forts,which guarded the mouth of the harbour, with the same result.Once at sea, he might bid pursuit defiance.
He formed his plan in a moment. Descending to the quarter-deck,he called for Halyard, and explained to that person, for theguidance of himself and the crew, what he contemplated.
“We must first slip our cable,” he said. “Let the men unbend thesails, and make the yards square; and when we once get headway,the breeze, I doubt not, will carry us on. Meantime, have theguns charged, and the deck cleared for action; for the gun-boat,if they observe our purpose, will give us some trouble.”
“Ay, ay, Sir,” answered Halyard.
“I will just see my young friend safe below,” pursued Hildebrand,“when I will rejoin you. Have everything done in silence.”
“Ay, ay, Sir,” repeated Halyard.
Hildebrand, leaving him to carry his injunctions into effect,here turned away, and passed forward to the young Spaniard.Taking that person by the arm, he led him aft, where a hatchway,opening on a close ladder, allowed them to descend to the cabin.A lighted lamp, which was fastened with a screw to a stoutoak table, on one side of the cabin, enabled the Spaniardto survey this apartment, and its snug aspect seemed to takehim by surprise. Though not more than ten feet square, it wasarranged with so much compactness, and such excellent taste,that it looked quite roomy. There were no settles or stools,but a locker, or projecting box, ran round the sides; and thetop of this, which abutted about a foot from the main wainscot,served for seats. Both the locker and wainscot, which lined thecabin throughout, were of fine-grained oak, polished very high,and capped by a moulding of the same material. The wainscotopened on either side, about halfway up, with a panelled slide,and exhibited, within, a small recess, or, to borrow a nauticalphrase, berth, which a mattress and blankets intimated to be asleeping-place. In the quarter that faced the door, or entrance,which opened towards the fore part of the ship, an attempt hadbeen made, by a not untasteful hand, to lend the sombre hue ofthe wainscot some degree of decoration; and on a panel at eitherend, four pistols had been ranged in a circle, with their barrelsturned towards each other, which had a very pleasing effect. Onthe opposite side of the cabin, shooting up from the hold, a partof the ship’s mainmast was visible; and in front of this, fittingto its abutting round, was the cabin-table, which, like thewainscot, was of oak, and exhibited a fine and brilliant polish.
While the young Spaniard was noting these several particulars,Hildebrand drew forth from his vest, with a somewhat tremuloushand, the note he had brought him from Inez. Inclining his headtowards the light, he tore it open, and read therein thesewords:--
“The bearer hereof, my fair cousin, Don Rafaele, being now herein peril of his life, must needs accompany thee to England. Thoucanst not see me now; but as thou bearest thyself towards him,whom I give over to thy protection, so shalt thou hereafter beregarded by
“INEZ.”
Hastily raising his eyes, Hildebrand saw that, while he wasreading the letter, Don Rafaele had been watching him, but thathe had averted his gaze directly he raised his head. Concerned athis discomposure, he hastened to give him such a welcome as, inthe hurry of the moment, he thought might re-assure him.
“Fair Sir, be of better heart;” he said, cordially clasping hishand. “Thine own good parts would make me glad to be thy friend;but for her sake who wrote this note, and whom we may never seemore, I will hold thee dearer than mine own self.”
“I thank you,” faltered the cavalier, without raising his eyes.
“Thou art very, very young,” continued Hildebrand, as he observedhis bosom swell with his emotion. “But fear not! The world is notso perilous as we are apt to suppose.”
“No more,” returned Don Rafaele, in a firmer tone. “I doubt theenot, and have no fear. But I am sad--very sad.”
“That gives me more grief that I must leave thee,” saidHildebrand. “We may have some fighting above, and I, of course,as captain, must brave it awhile. Do thou promise me thou wiltstay here.”
“I will,” answered Don Rafaele.
“Then, I will leave thee awhile,” rejoined Hildebrand.
So speaking, he dropped the cavalier’s hand, and turned away. Thenext moment he had mounted to the deck.
As he set his foot on the deck, the ship, which hitherto had beenpretty steady, began to move, and he saw that his injunction tocut the cable had been fulfilled. Casting a glance around, heperceived that the sails, according to his instructions, had beenall unbent and squared, and the men assembled at their severalquarters. He was still looking round, when he was joined byHalyard.
“All’s ready, Sir!” said that person.
“Who is at the helm?” asked Hildebrand.
“Tom Tarpaulin.”
“Then, I will post myself beside him,” resumed Hildebrand. “Dothou look out for’ard.”
Without further discourse, he ascended to the poop, or sternof the vessel, and stationed himself beside the helmsman.Tarpaulin--for the helmsman was no other--was steering straightbefore the wind’s eye, in a slanting direction, under the sternof the gun-boat, which was about two ships’ lengths ahead. Fromtheir superior elevation, they were able to view the deck of thegun-boat; but whether from the darkness, or that the deck wasreally unoccupied, they could not distinguish any of the crew.Gradually they drew closer and closer to the gun-boat’s stern.They scarcely ventured to breathe at this critical juncture; andthe silence of so many men, all prompt for action, and withinview of each other, augmented its terrible interest. The creakingof the tall masts, bowing before the breeze, and the hoarsemurmur of the waves, as they turned aside before the ship’sbows, only made the silence more apparent, and the ear returnedno echo to their inanimate noise.
A brief interval brought them right athwart the gun-boat’s stern.There was no alarm. They still passed on, as at first, withoutinterruption, though now in a more direct course. The turn ofthe helm, by which their course had been changed, brought themabreast of their enemy, at about twenty feet distance. Thedeath-like silence still prevailed: every ear still thrilled withexcitement; when the full, deep voice of Hildebrand, raised toits highest pitch, rang through the vessel.
“Master Halyard!” he cried, “put out all our canvas, man theafter guns, and prepare for boarders!”
The silence was now at an end. The naked feet of the sailors,obedient to the orders of Halyard, were heard rushing in variousdirections over the deck; the hauling of ropes, the flapping ofcanvas, the creaking of spars, bending under the weight of sail,rendered a response to the whistling breeze; and, above all, thevoices of some half-dozen men, as they set the mainsail, wereheard merrily singing--
“Hoy, hoy, hoy! Mainsail, l
ads, hoy! Mainsail, mainsail, hoy!”
The crew of the gun-boat were equally alive. Men were seenscrambling over her deck fore and aft; several lights flamedon her forecastle; and it was evident that, though not yet inmotion, she was actively preparing to give them chase.
They had scarcely begun to make good way through the water, whenHildebrand discerned the gun-boat following. Propelled by ascore of oars, she gained upon them quickly, and it was clear,on regarding her progress, that a conflict would be unavoidable.Though the Englishman sailed gallantly on, she drew nearer andnearer every moment. At last, she fired a gun, and the charge,which the report seemed to indicate as a twenty-four-pounder,struck the fugitive’s stern, just above the water.
Still the latter vessel held on her course. The gun-boat, whetherdoubtful of the effect of her shot, or more desirous to push thepursuit, did not fire again for several minutes. By that time,having thrown her whole force into the chase, she had come nearlyabreast of the fugitive, at a distance of about a dozen yards.
The Englishman was well prepared to receive her. His lower-deckguns, embracing six long twenty-fours, were all manned, and, ashe was much higher in the water than she was, sunk to her level.To avert observation, however, the lower deck was left withouta light, and, consequently, his readiness for action was notdiscernible. Being unable to distinguish the open port-holes, theSpaniard, under the guidance of his rowers, approached withoutsuspicion. While he was yet scarcely abreast of the fugitive,he fired two guns, of the same calibre as his first, right intoher bulwarks. The lower deck of the fugitive was lighted up ina moment; before the smoke, which issued like a fog from thetwo discharged guns, had cleared away, her gunners had raisedtheir portfire, and she swept the Spaniard’s deck with her wholebroadside.
The report of the guns was still booming over the water, whena heartrending shriek, even more startling than the roar ofthe artillery, rose from the deck of the gun-boat. At the samemoment, the smoke, which now rendered the darkness almosttangible, was broken with bright red flames, shooting up from herdeck like waving rockets, and her hull was circled with volumesof fire.
The breeze that insured her destruction served to shoot theEnglishman ahead. Though thus pushing forward, however, the crewof the latter vessel, now released from action, still heardthe cries of her doomed company. They were audible for severalminutes, when, all at once, they became perfectly hushed. Thenext moment, the gun-boat blew up, and shot into the air in athousand fragments.
A buzz of horror arose from the crew of the “Eliza” at thisconsummation of the catastrophe. The shock was so great, that,though now a good distance from its locality, their own ship wasshaken by it, and bumped on the waves as if they were a rock.After the unanimous buzz specified, however, no one ventured tospeak, and they pursued their course in solemn silence.
Hildebrand was the first to collect himself. Like his men, hehad turned, almost mechanically, to view the explosion, and waswheeling round again to the binnacle, or box before the helm(which, it may be explained, contained the compass), when a smalland trembling hand was laid on his arm. Labouring under intenseexcitement, this slight incident made him start; but his face,though it remained pale, betrayed no anger as his glance fell onDon Rafaele.
“In the name of God, what hath happened?” asked that person, withterrible calmness.
“We are safe yet, Senhor,” answered Hildebrand. “Be of goodheart, and go below again.”
“I had rather die here,” rejoined Don Rafaele.
“An’ thou wilt not go below, sit thee down on the deck,” saidHildebrand. “A short space more will discover our fate.”
The Spaniard, without a word more--for he saw that Hildebrandwas not inclined for further discourse--disposed himself in themanner recommended, on the further side of the binnacle. As hedid so, the ship entered the narrow channel of the harbour, andthe crisis which Hildebrand had mentioned approached.
On one side of the channel stood the principal puntal, or fort,called St. Lorenzo, which guarded the harbour’s mouth, and thegarrison of which had evidently been alarmed by the explosion ofthe gun-boat, and were now on the alert. The other side was themainland, and presented a lee shore, lined with breakers, whichthe sea, in its progress to the strand, covered with boilingsurf, whiter than snow. In order to avoid the cannon of thefort, Hildebrand was obliged to steer straight for the breakers,and (to use a nautical phrase) “hug” a shore that threateneddestruction. After a hasty survey of his position, he resolvedon this course without a moment’s hesitation. The breeze,though fresh, was not violent, and he thought that, if the shipwere tacked on the instant he directed, they might weather thebreakers successfully. In this belief, he ordered every man tohis post, and directed that all things should be arranged, asthey progressed onward, to tack with promptitude.
All eyes were turned towards the fort as the ship entered thenarrow channel. The moon was now up, and the tall masts of thecruizer, with every stitch of canvas expanded, and puffed outwith the wind, seemed to offer a good mark to the puntal’s guns.The crew were not left long to conjecture whether those gunswould be brought to bear upon them. Directly they got fairlyinto the channel, a bright flash, like a tongue of fire, shotout from the nearest battery, and the ear shook under the boomof cannon. The shot fell short of the ship, on its larboard bow;but on the starboard, the lee shore, at less than a gun-shotdistance, seemed to menace her with instant destruction. Thoughcannon after cannon was now discharged from the fort, every eyeturned involuntarily to the opposite shore, where the roar of thebreakers, and the thundering din of the surf, which shot intothe air in a thousand fountains, almost silenced the report ofthe artillery. The stoutest heart quailed as the milky foam drewnearer and nearer: lips that had never uttered the name of God,from their childhood upward, except to profane it, convulsivelygasped to Him in prayer: eyes that had often looked down steadilyfrom the trembling topmast, through the rage and conflict of atempest, turned giddy before the prospect; and the most stubbornbosoms were sensible of a thrill of dismay. They approachedcloser and closer to the shore: it seemed impossible, when oneventured to glance to leeward, that they could ever weather it,even if they did not strike immediately. The stillness of deathwas over the crew, when, just as destruction appeared inevitable,the voice of Hildebrand rang through the ship.
“All hands, jibe ship!” he cried.
The wind thundered through the canvas; the “hoy, hoy” of thesailors, pulling the halyards, pierced the ear like a fife; thetall masts groaned again; and the rush of feet over the deck, thehauling of ropes, the shrill whistle of the pulleys, the boomof the cannon, and the hoarse roar of the breakers, all mingledtogether, constituted a din too terrible to dwell upon.
For a brief space the fate of the anxious crew was uncertain. Itwas an awful interval, though so brief, and the most resolutehearts felt a thousand fears. The sails, right through the ship,fore and aft, had been veered instantaneously; but for a momentthey backed to the wind. In this fearful juncture, all eyes wereturned towards the ship’s stern. The tall figure of Hildebrand,towering over that of Tarpaulin, who was standing before him,was there distinguished at the helm, and the hopes of the crewrevived as they saw their destiny in the hands of their commander.
The gallant ship answered her helm. After a short pause, thecanvas caught the breeze, and gradually bellied out. The shipbore away from the breakers, and, in less than a quarter of anhour, gained the clear water.
The change in her position brought her in front of the mainlandpuntal, called Metagorda, which opened fire upon her directly.Having passed the narrow channel, however, she was far out of itsrange, and the shot fell harmlessly into the water. In a shorttime she reached the mouth of the harbour, and a loud “hurrah”from the crew, rising unbidden from every lip, announced alldanger to be past.