Across the Salt Seas

I, too, shrugged my shoulders now-for this was, after all, no answer to my question; then I said:

"But how will you proceed? You can scarce stay here-this galleon will probably be sunk by the admiral directly she is unloaded. What will you do?"

He shrugged his shoulders with a look of extreme indifference, muttering something in Spanish, which I thought might be a proverb; then said: "Indeed, sir, I do not know. But this admiral of yours, what will he do with me-where take me if I go with you? I thought to ship at one time from Cadiz to England; then, later, when I learned we were coming in here, I thought to travel by land to some near port and find a vessel for the same place. Now I know not what to do."

Neither did I know what to suggest that he should do, except that I told him it was very certain he must see the admiral, who, without any doubt, I thought, would find him an opportunity of reaching England-would probably take him with the fleet.

"And," I went on, "this should be of some service to you, in the way of money, at least. 'Twill be a good thing for you to be put on English ground at no cost to yourself. Also, you may have goods or specie in this ship, which can be saved for you. And then, too, you will be near those friends you speak of-that one, especially, who is a Saint-who will doubtless help and assist you."

Again I saw the bright, luminous smile come upon his features, as he answered:

"Ay! he would assist me, no doubt. Oh! yes. Mon Dieu! Yes! Beyond all doubt. And he will be so glad to see me. We have not met for some time. But, sir, I thank you very much for your concern about me. Only, as far as money goes, I am not needy. I have bills about me now, drawn on the old Bank of Castile, and also on some goldsmiths of London, as well as some gold pieces in my pocket. While as for the goods or specie you speak of-why, never fear! Neither this galleon nor any other has a pistole's worth of aught that belongs to me on board-the risk was too great with the seas swarming with English ships of war. No, sir, beyond the box which contains my necessaries, I stand to lose nothing."

"I rejoice to hear it," I said, "though doubtless, since you are a British subject, all that belonged to you would have been sacred. Yet, even as 'tis, 'tis better so." Then, seeing the bo'sun at the cabin door, pulling his long matted hair by form of salute, and, doubtless, wondering what kept me so long away from him and his men, I said: "Now I must leave you for a time. Yet it will not be long. I trust you have all you require to sustain you until we reach the ship I am attached to."

But even as I spoke, and without listening much to his answer, which was to the effect that a good meal had been eaten that morning before the battle began, and that, if necessary, he knew very well where to lay his hands on some food, a thought struck me which I wondered had not occurred to me before during my interview with him. Therefore, turning to him, I said:

"But how comes it that I find you here alone-or all alone but for the reverend monk whom I saw above? How is it that you and he did not desert the ship as the others must have done?"

"Oh! as for that," he replied, still with that sweet smile of his, and still with that bright, careless air which he had worn all through, and which caused him to appear superior to any of the melancholy as well as uncomfortable circumstances by which he was surrounded, "as for that, the explanation is simple enough." Then, speaking rapidly now, he went on:

"We saw your great ships break the boom; ha! por Diôs, 'twas grand, splendid. We saw your ships range themselves alongside the Frenchmen, saw them crash into them their balls, set them afire, destroy them. Espléndido! Espléndido! Espléndido!" he exclaimed, bursting into the Spanish in his excitement. "Poof! away went the Bourbon, topping over on her side, up went the fireship-we heard your shouts and cries, heard the great English seamen singing their songs. I tell you it was glorious. Magnifico! Only-these creatures here-the canailles-these desperdicios-these-Diôs! I know not the word in English-thought not so. 'Great God!' screamed Don Trebuzia de Vera, our captain-a miserable pig, a coward. 'Great God, they win again, these English dogs; curse them! they never lose, we are lost! lost! lost! And see,' he bellowed, 'the French admiral lands, he flees, deserts his ship, ha! sets it afire. Flee we, too, therefore. Flee! Away! To the boats, to the shore, to the mountains. Away! They come nearer. Away, all, or there will not be a whole throat amongst us.'"

"We knowed that was what would happen," chuckled the bo'sun, who still stood at the open door, his fierce face lit up with a huge grin of approval. "Go on, young sir. Tell us the tale."

And, scarce heeding him, the youth, who had recovered his breath, went on:

"They obeyed him-they fled. Into the water, up the rocks, off inland they went. They never cast a thought to us, to Padre Jaime and myself, the only two passengers in the ship. Not they-they cared no jot whether we were blown up, or shot, or sunk, no more than they thought of their ingots in the hold. Their wretched lives were all in all to them now."

"Therefore they fled and left you here!"

"They fled and left us here, setting fire first to the ship, and caring nothing if we were burnt in it or not. Though that could scarce have happened, I think, since it would have been easy enough for us to plunge into the water and get ashore. Also the reverend father above bade me take heart-though I needed no such counsel, having never lost mine-averred that your side had won, that the next thing would be the arrival of your boats to secure the plunder-which has fallen out as he said-and that then both he and I would be safe. Which also has come to pass," he concluded.

"The reverend father appears to be well versed in the arts of war, captures and so forth," I remarked, as now we made our way together to the waist of the ship, followed by the bo'sun. "A strange knowledge for one of his trade!"

"Por Diôs!" the young fellow said, "'tis not so strange, neither, as you will say if ever you get him to speak about the strange places in which he has pursued his ministrations. Why, sir, he has assisted at the death of many a dying sinner of the kind we have in our parts, held cups of water to their burning lips, wiped the sweat of death from off their brows. Oh!" he said, stopping by one of the galleon's great quarter deck ports, in which the cowards who fled from the heavily armed ship had left a huge loaded brass cannon run out, which they had not had the spirit to fire; stopping there and laying a long, slim hand upon my arm-while I noticed that the nails were most beautifully shaped-"Oh! he has been in some strange places; seen strange things, the siege and plunder of Maracaibo, to wit, and many other places; seen blood run like water."

"The siege and plunder of Maracaibo!" I found myself repeating as we drew near the fore-hatches, which were now open. "The siege and plunder of Maracaibo!" Where had I heard such words as these before, or words like them? Where? where? On whose lips had I last heard the name of Maracaibo?

And, suddenly, I remembered that that wicked old ruffian, who had been fellow-passenger with me in La Mouche Noire had mentioned that place to the filthy black who was his servant-or his friend.

And-for what reason I know not, for there was no sequence whatsoever in such thoughts and recollections-I recalled his drunken and frenzied shouts to some man whom he called Grandmont; his questions about some youth nineteen years old, who was like to be by now grown up to be a devil like that dead Grandmont to whom he imagined he was speaking.

Which was, if you come to think of it, a strange sort of recollection, or memory, to be evoked simply through my hearing again the name of that tropic town of Maracaibo mentioned by this handsome young man.

CHAPTER XI.

FATHER JAIME

Under the direction of the second bo'sun, the men who had all come into the ship with me had now gotten the battens off and had lifted the hatch hoods-for although it has taken some time to write down my meeting and interview with this young gentleman, it had not, in very fact, occupied more than twenty minutes-and I found them already beginning to bring up some large chests and boxes with strange marks upon them.

Also, I found standing close by the opening the monk whom the young man had called Father Jaime, he being engaged in peering down into the hold with what seemed to me a great air of interest, which was not, perhaps, very strange, seeing that the treasure below was now destined for a far different purpose from that for which it was originally intended.

He turned away, however, from this occupation on seeing us approach, and said quietly, in the rich, full voice which I had previously noticed, to the young man by my side:

"So, Señor Juan, you have found a friend, I see. You are fortunate. This way you may light on your road to England."

"And you, sir, what is your destination, may I ask?" I said, for I knew I should soon have to decide what to do with him. The grey-haired officer had given me, among other hurried instructions, one to the effect that anything which was brought up from below was to be instantly sent off to Sir George Rooke's flagship; and 'twas very easy to see that there was none too much specie in this ship-while I knew not what was to be done with the merchandise. Therefore, the time was now near at hand for me to return and report myself, taking with me my findings, while, also, I should have to take with me these two whom I had discovered left behind on board.

Father Jaime bowed graciously on my asking this question-indeed, he was a far more courteous and well bred man than I, perhaps in my ignorance, had ever supposed would have been found amongst his class-and replied: "I, sir, have to present myself at Lugo, where there is a monastery to which I am accredited." Then, with an agreeable smile, he continued:

"I trust I shall not be detained. Already I am two years behind my time-as is our young friend here, Señor Juan Belmonte, and-"

"Two years!" I exclaimed.

"In truth, 'tis so," my young gentleman, whose name I now learned, replied. "Two years. These galleons should have sailed from Hispaniola that length of time ago, only so many things have happened. First there was the getting them properly laden, then the fear of filibusters and buccaneers-"

"That fear exists no longer, my son," the monk interrupted. "They are disbanded, broken up, gone, dispersed. There will be no more buccaneering now, the saints be praised."

He said: "the saints be praised yet had he not worn the holy garb he did, I should have almost thought that he said it with regret. Indeed, were it not for his shaven crown and face, he would not have ill-befitted the general idea I had formed of those gentry-what with his stalwart form, bold, fierce eyes and sun-browned visage.

"Ay, the saints be praised!" the young señor repeated after him, "the saints be praised. They were the curse of the Indies-I am old enough to remember that. Yet, now, all are gone, as you say, dispersed-broken up. Pointis has done that, and death and disease. Still, where are they? – those who are alive-I wonder."

"There are few alive now," the monk replied, "and those of no worth. Recall, my son, recall what we know happened in the Indies. Kidd is taken, Grogniet dead, Le Picard executed. Townley-a great man that! – I-I mean, a great villain-fell with forty wounds in his body; at Guayaquil nine brave-nine vagabonds-left dead; and more, many more."

"And the villain Gramont" – and now I started; was this whom he called Gramont the man that old vagabond Carstairs had spoken of-as I supposed-as Grandmont? – "forget not the greatest of them all, holy father. What of him?"

"He died at sea. Drowned," Father Jaime replied. Then added: "He was the boldest of them all."

"'Twas never known for certain that he was so drowned," Belmonte said.

"'Twas known for certain; is certain. I have spoken with those who saw his ship's boats floating near where he must have been cast away and lost. Fool that he was! Madman! Louis the King gave him his commission, made him Lieutenant du Roi. Then, because the devil's fever was hot in his blood, he must make one more of his accursed cruises, and go filibustering thus, besieging towns, plundering and destroying once more. The fool! to do it 'neath the King's lilies-to ruin himself forever, when he was rich, rich-ah, heavens! how rich he was! 'Tis well for him that he was drowned-disappeared forever. Otherwise the wheel would have been his portion. And," he added after a pause, "righteously so. Righteously so!"

Stopping as he said those words, he saw that we were regarding him with interest-for, indeed, had this drowned buccaneer been a friend of his he could scarcely have spoken with more fervency-then added, impressively:

"My sons, I knew that man-that Gramont; and I-I pitied him. Knowing his fate, and much of his life, I pity him still."

Then he turned away and began telling of his beads as he strode up and down the deck. And I, remembering all I had overheard the man Carstairs say, determined that, if the chance arose, I would ask the reverend father if he had known this Carstairs, too; for I had sufficient curiosity in my composition to desire to learn something more about that hoary-headed old vagabond, though 'twas not at all likely that I should ever set eyes on him again.

That chance was not now, however, since at this moment there came alongside the whole flotilla of boats, which had been despatched severally to the various galleons, they being at this time all collected together ere going back to the admiral, and needing only us to make them complete. Wherefore, giving orders to have all the chests and boxes which we had unearthed placed in our own boats, we stepped over the side, I motioning to the father and the señor to take their places by me.

"Your necessaries," I said, "can be fetched away later, when 'tis decided how your respective journeys are to be brought to an end."

And now, ere I get on with what I have to tell, it is fitting that-to make an end of this siege of Vigo, which, indeed, reinstated later, in the opinion of the Parliament and their countrymen, all those who had failed at Cadiz-I set down what was the advantage to England of this taking of the galleons, though, in truth, that advantage was far more in the crushing blow it administered to the French sea service than in aught else; for it broke that service's power more than aught else had done since the time of La Hogue, ten years ago; and it crippled France so upon the waters that, though she still continued to fight us boldly whenever we met, she was able to do but very little harm in that way.

Of the fifteen great ships of war which the French admiral, Chateaurenault, commanded, five were burned up, some being set alight by themselves ere they fled, the others by us. Four others were run ashore and bulged. Five more, not so badly injured, were taken home by our fleet, and afterward did us good service against their old masters, these being Le Prompte, L'Assure, Le Firme, Le Modère, and Le Triton; while the remaining one, Le Bourbon, was captured, as I have said, by Vandergoes, and fell to the share of the Dutch. Then, of their frigates, we burnt two, and also a fireship other than the merchantman loaded with snuff. Also, we burnt and destroyed three Spanish men-of-war.

As to the galleons, eight of them were sunk by their owners, the others were divided between our Dutch friends and ourselves. And this is what we got for our share: A few ingots of gold, several bars of silver and some jewels-the principal thing of worth amongst these being a great crown of gold set with rubies; a gold crucifix enriched with many stones, seven hundred pounds' weight of silver bars, many cases of silver ore, and some enormous cases of plate. Also, there was much cochineal, tobacco, logwood, cocoa, snuff and sugar, some of which was saved and some was sunk to the bottom. And the gold and silver was afterward taken to our English mint and coined into five-pound pieces, crowns, half-crowns and shillings, each piece having "Vigo" stamped beneath the queen's head, thereby to distinguish it. Later on, and somewhat later, too-it was when I drew my share of the prize money, to which I became entitled as having taken part in that great fight-I observed that my pieces had that word upon them.

But alas! there should have been much more, only the galleons had lain twenty-five days within that harbour ere we got to them, and, during that time, they had landed much which had been sent on to Lugo, and, had it not been for that foolish Spanish punctilio, which would not allow anything to be done hastily, they would have gotten all of their goods and precious things ashore. Only, because they should have gone into Cadiz and discharged there, and had instead come to Vigo, much delay happened ere the order for their doing so was given. Which was very good for us.

Our loss, considering the fierce fight both sides made of it, was not considerable. Hopson, his ship, because she had borne the brunt of the encounter, did suffer the most, she having one hundred and fifteen of her sailors killed on the deck or drowned, with nine wounded; the Barfleur and the Association had each but two men killed; the Mary lost none; the Kent had her bo'sun wounded, while for ourselves, we had many wounded, but none that I know of killed. Of those who went ashore to attack the Fort of Redondella under his Grace of Ormond, none of much note were slain, but Colonel Pierce got a bad wound from a cannon shot fired by one of our own men-of-war, and some other colonels were also wounded.

'Twas through a mighty mass of wreckage and floating spars, masts and yards, that we passed toward the Royal Sovereign, which lay back a bit and was nearest the mouth of the strait and beyond where that boom had been, and as we did so I saw my young gentleman, Señor Belmonte, turn somewhat pale as he observed the terrible traces which battles-and more particularly sea battles-always leave behind. Indeed, the soft red flush leapt to his cheeks, and the full scarlet lips themselves looked more white than red as his eyes glanced down at the objects that went a-floating by on the water; and, perhaps, since he was so young, 'twas not very strange that these sights should have sickened him. For there passed us dead men with half their heads blown off; others with a terrible grin of agony upon their faces; some with half their inwards dragging alongside them like cords-the waves all tinged a horrid reddish brown-while hats, wigs and other things floating by as the tide made, were but cruel sights for so young a man-and he, probably, no fighter-to see. And, after such a lusty encounter as this had been, one could not hope to witness anything much better.

As for the monk-on whom I could not but instinctively fix my eyes now and again, for (although I could not have told why) the man had fascinated me with the knowledge which he seemed to have once possessed of all those hideous filibusters and sea rovers who now, he said, were dead and gone and driven off the ocean-he seemed to regard these things as calmly and impassibly as though he sat in some lady's boudoir. His dark eyes, 'twas true, flashed here and there and all around-now on a headless man, and now on the contorted features of another, but he paled not, nor did he express or give any sign of interest in aught until we ran alongside our noble Royal Sovereign, when he cast his eye approvingly over her.

"A great vessel," he said, "a mighty craft! Worthy to represent her great country"; then grasped the life line hanging down, as I motioned him to ascend her gangway, and went on board as calmly as though accustomed to going over the sides of ships every day of his life. From the main shrouds there hung a flag when we stepped on board, which I have since learned to know denoted that a council of war was being held in the ship; also there were many captains' gigs and some admirals' barges all about her, so that 'twas plain enough to see, even without that flag, that a consultation was taking place on board. And scarce had I given my orders for the chests to be hauled in than the first lieutenant approached me and asked very courteously if I was not Lieutenant Crespin.

A moment later I was being ushered into the great main cabin, leaving my two companions on the deck for the present-and in another instant was making my salutations to the grey-haired admiral, Sir George Rooke, who sat at the head of the table, and to his Grace, the Duke of Ormond-a brave, handsome soldier-who had come on board after taking of the Fort of Redondella.

And now I pass over the many flattering things said to me by those great officers seated there-since we had flown straight to Vigo after the Pembroke had picked up the fleet at sea, and had at once been occupied in our preparations for taking of the galleons, this was the first time we had met-over, also, the compliments paid me for the manner in which I had made my way from Holland to Cadiz and Lagos. Suffice it that both Sir George Rooke and the duke told me that my services would not be forgot, and that when I returned to my Lord Marlborough I should not go unaccompanied by their commendations. However, enough of this. And now I told my tale of the morning, and of the two persons I had found on board La Sacra Familia-told, too, that they were at this moment on board the Royal Sovereign, I having deemed it best to bring them along with me.

"Let us see them," said Rooke, and straightway bade his flag lieutenant go bring them in.

But I think that, although I had told all assembled at this board what kind of persons these were whom I had discovered in the ship, all the admirals, generals and captains were astonished at their appearance when they stood before them; while so handsome a show of it did my young Señor Belmonte make, that, perhaps almost unknowing what he did, Admiral Hopson pushed a chair toward him and bade him be seated. And because such courtesy could not be shown to one of these visitors without the same being extended to the other, the monk was also accommodated with a chair in which he sat himself calmly, his eyes roving round all those officers assembled there.

"You were passengers in this galleon-the-the-Sacra Familia?" Sir George said, glancing at a paper in his hand, on which I supposed the names of all the captured ships were written down, "and as this officer tells me, are anxious to proceed to your destination. Will you inform me of what that destination is, so that we may assist you in your desire?"

"Mine," exclaimed Señor Juan-and as his sweet, soft voice uttered the words musically, all eyes were turned on him, "is England eventually; yet," and he smiled that gracious smile which I had seen before, "my passage was but paid to Spain-and I am in Spain. Beyond being permitted to go ashore here with my few necessaries, I know not that I need demand any of your politely proffered assistance."

Sir George shrugged his shoulders while he looked attentively at the handsome young man-who, I thought, to speak truth, received the civilities of his speech with somewhat too much the air of one accustomed to having homage and consideration paid to him-then he said quietly:

"That, of course, shall be done at once. There can be no obstacle to that. We only regret that the rigours of war have caused us to inconvenience any ordinary passenger. You have of course your papers."

"Yes, I have them here," and he produced from his breast a bundle, at which Sir George glanced lightly.

Then he turned to Father Jaime, who preserved still the look of calmness which had distinguished him all through. Yet I wondered, too, that he should have done so, for he had been subjected to even more scrutiny than Belmonte had been, perhaps because of the garb he wore; scrutiny that, in one instance at least, would have disquieted a less contained man, since Admiral Hopson, I noticed, had scarcely ever taken his eyes off him since he had entered the cabin, or, when he had taken them off, had instantly refixed them so upon his countenance that 'twas very palpable to me that the man puzzled him. But what need to describe that look which all the world has often seen on the face of one who is endeavouring to recall to himself where, or whether, he has ever seen another before.