By Right of Conquest; Or, With Cortez in Mexico

In the afternoon the crew set to work to re-water the ship, and by nightfall all the casks were filled up, and the vessel was ready to proceed again on her way. The next morning sails were hoisted and the anchor weighed. The natives came out in great numbers in their canoes, and surrounded the Swan as she glided away from her anchorage, waving their hands and raising cries of farewell–evidently greatly satisfied at the treatment they had received at the hands of their white visitors.

For a fortnight the Swan cruised from island to island; but beyond giving the crew a run ashore at each, and so building up their strength and getting them in fighting trim, should there be occasion to call upon them for action, little advantage was obtained from these visits. Fruit and vegetables were obtainable in abundance; but beyond these, and little trinkets and feathers, there was no trade to be done.

"It is clear," Captain Reuben said, as he and his officers were gathered in the cabin, "that there is neither gain nor advantage to be obtained from trade here. The natives have doubtless sufficient for their wants, which are of the simplest; but of wealth such as we prize in England there is none to be had. It is different with the Spaniards–they make slaves of these poor creatures, and force them to till their plantations, to raise crops for them, and to work mines; but we, who cannot do these things, can get nothing from a longer stay in these coasts.

"We touched here chiefly to get water and fruit, to keep us all in health, and in that we have abundantly succeeded. We had best now shape our course westward, and try to find this new land, rich in gold, of which my friend the Spanish captain learned by report from the natives. So far we have fallen in with no Spaniards, but we may do so at any time; and although I have no fear of beating off any that might meddle with us, it would do us great harm did the news spread that a strange ship was in these waters; for they would assuredly send out expeditions in search of us, from all their ports, as soon as the news reached them."

The others quite agreed with Captain Reuben's views, and the next morning the ship's head was pointed west. Two days later, when passing an island they saw, on opening a headland, a port with many houses, and a Spanish flag flying from a mast on shore. Two large Spanish vessels were lying there. They were apparently on the point of sailing, for the sails were already dropped.

An exclamation of surprise broke from all on the deck of the Swan, and the men ran to the braces and sheets, in order to trim the sails.

"Steady, men!" Captain Reuben shouted. "Touch not sheet or tack. We must sail past as if bent on our own business. If we change our course, now, they will suspect that something is wrong.

"Pengarvan, do you get out the Spanish flag from the locker, and run it up to the peak."

This was done, though it was easy to see, by the looks the crew cast towards the strange craft, that they would gladly go in and fight them.

"Another time, lads," Captain Reuben said cheerfully, as he saw their mood. "I doubt not we shall have enough fighting to satisfy you, before we have done; but our object here is to trade, and get rich. If thrashing the Dons comes in the way of business, we shall do it contentedly; but there is no occasion for us to put ourselves out of the way to meet them. Supposing we were to go in, and sink those two ships; as I doubt not we are men enough to do, if we were to try it. They would see it all from the shore; and no sooner did we set sail again, than boats would carry the news to every Spanish port in these quarters, and we should have a score of ships in pursuit of us, in no time; and, whatever came of it, that would interfere with the hopes of gain with which we have sailed to these seas.

"This port must be a newly formed one," he went on, turning to Roger, "for there is no Spanish station marked hereabout, in my chart."

The course which the Swan was taking would have carried her half a mile to seaward of the two Spanish vessels, but she now edged a point or two farther out. Doubtless the Spaniards were surprised at seeing that the vessel, instead of entering the port, continued her course; and it may be that they very soon discovered such points in her hull, and rigging, as set them wondering what she could be.

Presently a gun was fired from one of the ships–as a signal, doubtless, for her to heave to. The Swan paid no attention to the command, but kept on her course. In two minutes there was another flash and a puff of white smoke from the Spaniard, and a shot skipped across the water in front of the Swan. A growl of anger broke from her crew.

"Put up the helm," Captain Reuben ordered; and the vessel, which was running before the wind, came up till her head pointed straight to sea.

Although the Spanish ships were still three-quarters of a mile away, a bustle was at once observable on their decks. Men clustered at the bows, and could be seen at work there.

"They are getting up the anchors," Pengarvan said, as he watched them, shading his eyes with his hands.

Three or four minutes later the sails were sheeted home, and the Spaniard began to move through the water, having set sail as soon as the anchors were tripped. No sooner were they under weigh, and the crews at their quarters, than they began to discharge their bow guns after the Swan.

"Shall we answer them, Captain?" James Standing asked. "We can bring a couple of guns aft, and fire over the rail."

"By no means," Captain Reuben replied. "At present they know nothing about us, and though they may guess that we are not licensed traders, with due authority to trade among the islands, I do not suppose they suspect, for a moment, that we are foreigners; but deem us a private venture, from one of their own ports. No Spanish trader would dare to fire on their own flag and, as long as we do not reply, they will suppose that we are only trying to escape the payment of some heavy fine, or perhaps forfeiture, for breach of their regulations.

"No, they can fire away. They are not likely to hurt us. They are fully a mile behind us, and we shall soon leave them."

But in this respect the captain was mistaken. The Spaniards were both fast vessels; and although the Swan kept her distance, those on board presently saw that she gained nothing. The shot continued to fall around them, but the Spaniards worked their guns slowly. The pieces on their forecastles were light ones, and though two or three shot passed through the sails of the Swan, they did but little damage.

"As long as they don't knock away a spar we will hold on," Captain Reuben said. "If they do, we will turn and fight them. But the wind is dropping a little, and I think that, if anything, we are gaining upon them now."

By the afternoon the Swan was fully two miles ahead, and the Spaniards had discontinued firing. The Swan was heading now to pass an island which had, for some hours, been visible ahead. Presently the Spaniards again began firing, although their shot fell in the water far astern of the Swan.

"What are the lubbers up to now?" James Standing said. "They cannot think they are going to frighten us into stopping, now that we have fairly got away from them."

Captain Reuben was anxiously gazing at the island ahead. They had laid their course to pass it to windward, as they sailed better, close-hauled, than did the Spaniard; who had not only fallen behind, but had lagged to leeward nigh half a mile.

"They must be firing as a signal," he said. "There may either be a Spanish port in the island, or they may know that there are some of their ships lying there; though I can see no signs, either of a port or ships."

"It would matter little if we could, Captain," Pengarvan said; "for any ships along that shore would be to leeward of us, and we should pass the end of the island long before they could beat up there; but it would be awkward if there happened to be a port, with two or three of their ships, just beyond that point. We should be caught between two fires then, and have to fight the lot of them."

The captain nodded.

"You are right, Pengarvan. We should be in a fix, then; and four Spaniards at once is more than we bargained for."

They were now within two miles of the point towards which they were steering, and towards which the eyes of the two officers on the poop were directed. Five minutes later an exclamation broke from them, simultaneously, as the sails of a lofty ship made their appearance over the extremity of the point, and a minute later a great hull came into sight.

"Helm to larboard," Captain Reuben ordered sharply. "We must run down the island. We can never weather that fellow that has just appeared.

"Ah! There are two others coming out. We are in a hornets' nest."

The sails were squared off, and the Swan was soon running before the wind; almost parallel with the coast, but edging in a little, to keep her farther from the vessels that had first chased them. These had also changed their course, and their position to leeward now gave them an advantage.

Ere long the Swan was almost abreast her late pursuers, who were about a mile and a quarter to seaward; while the other three Spanish ships, with all sails set, were a mile and a half astern, but a good deal nearer in shore.

"The sun will be down in another five minutes," Captain Reuben said, "and in half an hour it will be dark. The Spaniards can run quite as fast as we can–a bit faster, I think; but we can beat them, close hauled. The wind is falling lighter and lighter. If it was not for that, we would haul our wind and be off on the other tack, and throw all of them out. But it will be a dead calm before long, and they will be either lowering all their boats to attack us, or towing their ships up to us. If we were close under the land they might miss us, but they will be able to make us out, here. At any rate, we must hold on as we are, until the wind drops altogether."

After sunset the breeze died away rapidly and, by the time night had fully set in, the sails dropped motionless, and the Swan ceased to move through the water. The captain at once ordered all the boats to be lowered, and the men swarmed into them, double banking the oars. Hawsers were handed into them, and the vessel's head swept round in the direction from which she had come, but somewhat farther seaward.

"Now, lads," the captain said, "pull with a will. There will be a good supper, and an allowance of strong ale, when you come on board."

After rowing for half an hour, the captain ordered them to cease, and to keep silence. Listening attentively, he could hear in the still night air the sound of oars; but whether the boats were towing the ships, or rowing independently, he could not tell. Again the men set to work.

"I hope they are towing," he said to the first mate. "They would have no chance whatever of catching us, for our strong crew can take a vessel like the Swan through the water at twice the rate they could row their big ships. I can't see the fellows in shore, can you?"

"No, Captain. They are hid in the shadow of the land. I can make out the others, but they are a long way farther off than when we started."

"I expect we shall have the boats after us, Standing. Both lots can make us out, and can see that we are gaining on them.

"Ah! I felt a breath of wind. I did not expect it for an hour or two yet; but if the breeze springs up, we shall soon run away from them."

Stopping and listening again, they could hear the sound of oars, from two directions.

"They are coming," the captain said. "The beat is quicker than it would be if they were towing; besides, it is a great deal more distinct than it was. I don't think they are more than a mile behind us.

"Ah! There is the wind again."

There was a deep flapping sound, and a rattling of blocks, as the sails bellied out for a moment, and then fell against the masts again. Captain Reuben went to the forecastle:

"Keep it up, lads. You won't have much longer to row, for the wind is coming. The Spaniards are after us, but they won't be up for a quarter of an hour, and I hope we shall get it before that. Remember, every yard we can keep away from them is of importance. Put your backs to it, lads."

The Swan carried four boats and, strongly manned as these were, she was gliding through the water at a fair rate. It was five minutes before another breath of wind came, but this lasted three or four minutes, and greatly relieved the strain from the hawsers.

"She is going through the water now," the captain said. "They cannot be gaining very much upon us, at present.

"Confound it!" he added, a minute later. "There is an end of it again."

The boats were now but half a mile away, and the voices of the officers, urging the rowers to exert themselves, could be plainly heard, On the Swan the officers were all gazing in the direction from which the wind was to come. The yards were all braced sharply aft. Presently there was an exclamation of relief, as they felt the wind in their faces, and the vessel heeled a little over. The boats behind were but a quarter of a mile away now, while those from the vessels inshore were perhaps twice that distance.

"If this is the true breeze we are safe," the captain said. "If not, we shall have to fight for it."

The men had already, without orders, cast loose the guns, and armed themselves with pike and cutlass.

"Now listen, lads," the captain said, as he went forward to the poop rail, "if these fellows come up and try to board us, let no man utter a word. Fight like bulldogs, and as silently. We shall beat them off, never fear. No doubt they believe that we are their countrymen, who have broken their trading regulations, and are afraid of being overhauled. But if there is a word spoken they will know that we are foreigners, and we shall be chased wherever we go."

Then he went to the forecastle, and bade all the men in the boats cast off the hawsers and come on board. They were, indeed, no longer of any use, as the vessel was going through the water almost as fast as they could row ahead of her. As they gained the deck he repeated the orders he had given–that strict silence should be observed, in case the Spaniards came alongside.

Everything now depended on continuance of breeze, and those on board the boats saw that the vessel was now holding her own with them. Orders to throw the ship up into the wind and heave to were shouted and, as no attention was paid to these, several musket shots were fired at her; but the wind held and, faster and faster, the Swan made her way through the water. At last the boats fell behind, and were lost to sight.

"We are safe now," Reuben said, exultantly. "We are to windward of them all, and shall have them well out of sight, before morning."

When day broke, indeed, the topsails of three of the Spanish ships could be seen on the horizon; but in two or three hours these sank out of sight, and the Swan was headed on her course west.

Chapter 5: Shipwrecked

For six days the Swan sailed westward before a gentle wind. Then clouds were seen rising in the north, and spreading with great rapidity across the horizon.

"We are in for a tempest," Captain Reuben said. "Never have I seen the clouds rising more rapidly.

"Get her sail off her, Standing, as quickly as possible."

The crew fell to work, and in a very few minutes the Swan was stripped of the greater part of her canvas. But quickly as the men worked, the storm came up more rapidly, and the crew had but half finished their work when, with a roar and turmoil that almost bewildered them, the gale struck the vessel. Her head had been laid to the south, so that the wind should take her astern; and it was well that it was so, for had it struck her on the beam, she would assuredly have been capsized, even had not a rag of canvas been shown, for the wind would have caught her lofty forecastle and poop. As it was she plunged heavily forward, quivering as if from a blow. Then her bluff bows bore her up and, with a leap, she sprang forward and sped along before the gale.

"I have seen as sudden a squall among the Greek islands," Captain Reuben shouted in the mate's ear; "but never elsewhere. I hope that this may prove as short as do the gales in that quarter."

"I hope so," the mate replied, "for we know not how far the land may be distant."

But though the captain knew it not, they had been caught in one of those furious gales that were, afterwards, the terror of the Spaniards; blowing for a week or ten days without intermission, and being the cause of the wreck of many a stout ship. The sea got up rapidly, and the wind seemed to increase in fury as night fell, and for three days the ship ran before it. The waist was frequently deluged with water, and it required six men at the helm to keep her straight before the wind.

The crew were worn out with fatigue and want of sleep, for running as they were in this unknown sea, none could say what might happen, or when land might be sighted ahead. The captain never left the poop–he and the mates taking their places, by turn, with the men at the helm; for the slightest error in steering might have caused the vessel to broach to, in which case nothing could have saved her. Sheltered as was the caboose, it was found impossible to keep a fire alight, and officers and men, alike, had to content themselves with biscuit and draughts of ale.

The vessel rolled till her bulwarks were under water, and the yardarms at times dipped into the sea, and the men on deck were forced to lash themselves to some standing object, to retain their footing. The captain occasionally made his way forward to the forecastle, where the men not on duty were huddled together, and spoke cheeringly to them, saying that the gale could not last much longer, and that as the Swan had weathered it so far, she would hold on to the end.

At the commencement of the storm a tremendous rain had fallen, but when this had ceased the sky had cleared up, and for the last two days the sun had shone out brightly, and not a cloud had been seen.

When morning broke on the fourth day a cry of dismay broke from the wearied men on deck, for ahead could be seen land, stretching away on both bows. The news brought the crew from below, and they clustered on the forecastle, gazing in the direction of this new danger.

"We must try and get some sail on her mizzen, Standing," the captain said. "Our only chance is to bring her head to wind."

"We can try, Captain, but I fear that you will never bring her round."

"It is our only chance," the captain repeated, and with a loud shout, he called for some hands to come aft.

The mizzen was shaken out and, as soon as the sheets were hauled aft, the helm was put down. A cry burst from the crew as she came round, for as the wind took her on the beam she lay farther and farther over. A great wave struck her broadside, sweeping the bulwarks away as if they had been paper, and carrying a number of the crew off the forecastle into the sea. Still farther over she went, and all thought that she would capsize; when there were a series of reports, like musket shots, as the lashings of the shrouds parted. This was followed instantly by a crash, as the mizzen mast snapped off, two feet above the deck.

Relieved of the strain, the Swan righted somewhat. Another great wave swept over her forecastle, still further diminishing the number of the crew, but it carried her head round. She came up onto an even keel, and again started on her mad course before the wind.

"Go forward, Pengarvan, and see how many hands we have lost," the captain said. "Not that it makes much difference, for they have but gone a short time before the rest of us, for nothing short of a miracle can save us, now."

It could now be seen that the coast was steep and rocky, and that the waves were breaking with tremendous force upon it. It was but about four miles distant, and in less than half an hour they would be upon it.

"We must try to anchor, Standing."

The first mate shook his head.

"We will try, Captain, but our anchors will never hold her in the teeth of this gale. If they did, the hawsers would go like pack thread."

"I am afraid so, Standing; but there is nothing else to do."

The first mate went forward, and he and Pengarvan saw the anchors got in readiness, and the cables ranged along, so as to run out with perfect freedom. Then Pengarvan made his way aft again to the poop.

"Do you mean to cut away the mast, Captain?"

The captain nodded.

"I wouldn't, sir," the mate went on. "She will never hold, mast or no mast; and if it stands, we make a shift to run her head foremost on the rocks, and this will give us a better chance than if she drifts broadside on."

"You are right, Pengarvan. Yes, it will be better to leave it standing."

When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the helm was again put down and, as the vessel came partly round, the the anchors were let go. The hawsers ran out rapidly, and the topsail, which was the only sail on her, was let go, the wind catching it and tearing it into ribbons as it was loosed. There was a jerk and a surge as the anchors brought her up, but at the same moment a great wave struck her head. The cables parted, and she again swung round towards the shore.

"It is all over with us, my lad," the captain said to Roger, who was standing quietly beside him. "God forgive me, I have brought you all here to die."

"It is not your fault, father. It was all for the best, and we knew when we started that there were perils before us."

"Goodbye, my lads! We will die as we have lived–brave men–and may God have mercy on us all.

"Now, Roger, obey my last orders. Go forward, and climb up to the end of the bowsprit. It may be that, if she strikes, you may be able to leap forward onto the rocks. They are somewhat lower, just ahead, than elsewhere."

"But I do not want to be saved, if no one else is, father," Roger cried passionately.

"You have always obeyed me heretofore," the captain said, quietly, "and you will do so now. Go forward at once, and do as I say. God bless you, my boy."

He clasped Roger in his arms, in a moment's close embrace, and then pointed forward.

Roger's eyes were blinded with tears as he obeyed the order. The bowsprit in those days did not, as now, run out almost horizontally from the ship's bow; but stood up like a mast, leaning somewhat over the bow, and carried a yard and small square sail upon it. Roger climbed up as far as the yard and then, aiding himself by the halyards, swarmed up until he reached the cap. When he did so the vessel was but little more than a hundred yards from the shore.

The water was deep up to the rocks, for the waves struck on these unbroken, flying up in masses of spray which flew far over the land. On his lofty post, thirty feet above the forecastle and forty-five above the water, Roger was nearly level with the top of the rock ahead; and as the vessel rose on the waves, could see a flat land, extending far inland.

He looked down. Two or three of the sailors had followed him as high as the yard, and many others were gathered on the forecastle. Some were kneeling in prayer, others had thrown themselves down despairingly on the deck, but most were standing, looking forward with set faces at the rocky barrier so close at hand.

Roger looked aft. The men at the tiller had quitted it now, and gone forward. Standing and Pengarvan were standing, one on each side of the captain. The latter took off his cap and waved it to his son, and the mates lifted their hands in token of adieu.

A cry from below caused Roger, as he returned the salute, to look round. They were but a ship's length from the rocks. Another moment a great wave lifted the vessel, and on its crest she went thundering forward. The rocks seemed to leap up against the spar to which Roger clung. It snapped off just below his feet, then a great volume of water and spray shot up from below, and he was thrown high into the air. The wind caught him and carried him away inland, and he fell, with a crash that left him senseless.

It was long before he recovered consciousness. As soon as he did so, he crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the cliff, and looked down. The Swan had disappeared. Not a sign of her remained, not so much as a floating timber showed on the surface of the water.