CHAPTER VI.
The ball struck Don Rafaele, who, being held in Hildebrand’s leftarm, above his shoulder, offered the Spaniard the best mark.With a low moan, he fell back on Hildebrand’s shoulder; but thatperson, though thus rendered sensible that he had been wounded,did not suffer this incident to arrest his flight, but stillpushed on for the street.
Although he had some paces headway, he had no time to spare. Hehad hardly gained the outer passage, when the Spaniards, nowfully collected, were joined by Don Gonzalez, and they set afterhim amain. Before they arrived at the doorway, however, he hadgained the street.
The storm was still raging; and the darkness promised, by itsexcessive density, to screen his steps from observation. As heturned into the street, he seemed to acquire new vigour, yet hislong, heavy cloak, though it shielded him from the weather, wasa great incumbrance to him, and embarrassed him exceedingly.Feeling this, he slipped it off as he gained the street, andsuffered it to fall behind him. The voices and steps of hispursuers were now close at his heels. Undaunted, yet alive toevery incident, he ran swiftly on, and, as he progressed, lookedabout for some projection, behind which he might conceal himself.The darkness was so dense, that he could not, by the utmoststretch of his vision, distinguish any such covert; but, keepingclose against the side of the street, he came to an aperture inone of the houses, opening to a retired door. Without a moment’shesitation, he drew back into the recess, and there ventured totake breath.
As Hildebrand thus came to a halt, his pursuers, who, havingbeen joined by Don Gonzalez, were now five in number, made theirappearance in the street. For one brief moment, Hildebrand wasin hopes that, having no trace of him to guide them, they wouldtake the opposite direction, and so leave open the only route bywhich he could retreat. But whether they supposed that he wouldflee towards the river, or acted from mere impulse, they took theright path, and followed close in his steps. Hildebrand repressedhis breath as their tread announced them to be approaching thesmall recess. Don Rafaele was as still as death; but Hildebrandfelt his heart, which was pressed against his, fairly quivering.His hand, too, dripped with his blood.
The steps of the Spaniards came close up to the recess. The fourstranger cavaliers, being young men, had outrun Don Gonzalez,and were nearly a dozen paces in his advance. Hildebrand fullyexpected to be discovered when they came abreast of the recess.It seemed next to impossible, indeed, that he could eludeobservation, or that they could pass without seeing him. Butin their haste, the pursuers did not look about them; but,supposing him to be ahead, pushed straight forward. Hildebrandwas congratulating himself on his good fortune, when anotherstep, less hasty than its forerunners, struck on his ear, andDon Gonzalez came in sight. As he came abreast of the recess,the darkness was dispelled, for one brief moment, by a prolongedflash of lightning. The flash was so fearfully vivid, that itquite made him stagger, and, in seeking to avoid it, his eyesmechanically turned on the recess, where the lightning nowdistinctly revealed the two fugitives.
“Ho, Senhors! we have them here!” he cried to his companions.
While he was yet speaking, Hildebrand drew forth a pistol; andwith a steady hand, and an aim that never erred, levelled it athis breast. As his companions turned to his succour, he uttered alow groan, and fell back lifeless.
Still bearing Don Rafaele with his left arm, which was almostnumbed with the weight, Hildebrand sprang into the street theinstant he had fired. The Spaniards, hearing the report of apistol, were running back for Don Gonzalez, and were comingtowards him with all speed. But, besides that he was greatlyfavoured by the darkness, the rain, which had all along fallen inheavy showers, was now succeeded by a torrent of hail, which beatright in their faces; and he was thus able to steal across thestreet unobserved. There, keeping close to the wall, he allowedthem to pass him, and then set off boldly for the river.
Saturated with rain, breathless with running, and with the armwhich supported Don Rafaele sweating with pain, he shortlyarrived at the beach. To attempt to look for his two boatmen,or any other object, however close it might be, while the hailwas pouring down so furiously, would have been the height offolly, and was a project that did not once occur to him. Whenhe recovered his breath, however, he called out, according tothe preconcerted arrangement, at the top of his voice; and thenlistened anxiously for an answer.
“Holloa, ho!” was the prompt reply.
Catching the direction of the voice, which was close at hand, hesprang forward amain, and shortly came up with the two boatmen.
“Hurrah, Captain! what cheer?” cried the two sailors, discerninghim.
“No good, lads!” answered Hildebrand. And, bending a little, hespoke in a lower tone to Don Rafaele. “Where art thou hurt, myRafaele?” he said.
“I’ the arm,” replied Don Rafaele, faintly. “Moreover, the woundbleeds apace.”
“Here, my lads, hold him up!” cried Hildebrand. “We cannot go offwhile this hail lasts, and, meantime, I must tie up his wound.”
The two rough mariners caught Don Rafaele in their arms directly,and held him up, with more tenderness than one would have lookedfor, while Hildebrand bandaged his wound. This he did with ascarf, which he took out of his hat; and though, being afraid toexpose him any way to the cold, he was obliged to tie it overhis coat, the stay which it afforded the arm lent Don Rafaeleimmediate ease.
The violent shower of hail had ceased by the time that thesufferer’s arm was tied up. The darkness, however, remainedimpenetrable; and as Hildebrand glanced anxiously down the river,he began to entertain the same fear as Ben Hatchway, expressedheretofore, that they would be unable to make out the ship. Thethought shook him somewhat; but the thrill which it started hadhardly entered his breast, when a flash of light, which lookedlike electric fluid in the darkness, crossed his vision, and thereport of a cannon boomed over the water. At the same moment,three lights were hauled into the air, and offered the eye amark, now that the hail had ceased, sufficiently commanding to beseen at some distance.
“Well done, ho!” exclaimed Hildebrand, rightly divining that thelights were a provision of Master Halyard’s, and were intendedto guide him to the ship. “Now, lads, place Don Rafaele in thestern, and shove off! May God be merciful to our souls!”
The two sailors, without the slightest hesitation, hastened toobey him; and, having bestowed Don Rafaele carefully in the sternof the boat, proceeded to set her afloat. Hildebrand assistedthem to shove the boat into the water, and then, not withoutgetting well soaked by the waves, leaped with them aboard of her,and took his place at the rudder.
The boat nearly capsized as they got fairly afloat. Butthe dexterity of the two seamen, and the prompt manner inwhich Hildebrand, on taking his seat, regulated her balance,counteracted the influence of the waves, and enabled her torecover herself. All now depended on the perfect preservationof the boat’s equilibrium. Their route to the ship was not nearso dangerous, in other respects, as their progress to the shorehad been; for the wind had been then right in their teeth, and,consequently, was now in their favour. Since the fall of hail,too, it had lulled somewhat, and, though the waves ran as highas ever, the boat rose to the water with less strain, and madegood way. In a short time, indeed, they brought the cruizer’slights close before their head, and were able to distinguishher long black hull. As they did so, the two mariners uttered aloud hurrah, and thus drew the attention of Master Halyard, whohappened to be on the look-out, in the gangway, to their periloussituation.
A rope was thrown to them instantly; and in a few moments more,the boat was hauled alongside; and Hildebrand, bearing DonRafaele in his arms, ascended to the deck.
The anxious group who had crowded to the gangway fell back at theapproach of their commander. Hildebrand, however, took no noticeof their silent welcome; he even overlooked Master Halyard, and,thinking only of his wounded friend, who now seemed to clingto him more than ever, he shot across the deck, and descendedstraight to the cabin.
No one was in the cabin but the pantler, who, th
ough of such ataciturn disposition, fairly broke into an exclamation as heentered.
“Hie thee for some hot water, sirrah,” cried Hildebrand; “and behither with it straightway.”
The pantler disappeared; and Hildebrand, preparatory to anyfurther measures, relieved Don Rafaele of his cloak and hat, andlaid him on his bed. Having thus bestowed him, he was turning tolook for the steward, when Don Rafaele, with a slight effort,threw his free arm round his neck, and held him back.
“Leave me not to a stranger,” he said, in broken accents:“I--I--AM INEZ.”