Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer, Cyrus Townsend Brady [i read book TXT] 📗

ascend the trail. The ancient chroniclers tell of the terrific nature of the climb, how the exhausted and frightened English sailors dropped upon the rocks, appalled by their dangers and worn out by their hardships, how Preston and his officers forced them up at the point of the sword until finally they gained the crest and descended into the valley. They found the town unprotected, for all its defenders were in the pass, seized it, held it for ransom, then, sallying forth, took the surprised Spanish troops in the pass in the rear and swept them away.

After this exploit some desultory efforts had been made by the Spaniards to render the trail still more impracticable with such success as has been stated, and it gradually fell into entire disuse. By nearly all the inhabitants its very existence had been forgotten.

It was this trail that Alvarado determined to ascend. The difficulties in his way, even under the most favorable circumstances, might well have appalled the stoutest-hearted mountaineer. In the darkness they would be increased a thousand-fold. He had not done a great deal of mountain climbing, although every one who lived in Venezuela was more or less familiar with the practice; but he was possessed of a cool head, an unshakable nerve, a resolute determination, and unbounded strength, which now stood him in good stead. And he had back of him, to urge him, every incentive in the shape of love and duty that could move humanity to godlike deed.

Along the base of the mountain the trail was not difficult although it was pitch-dark under the trees which, except where the mighty cliffs rose sheer in the air like huge buttresses of the range, covered the mountains for the whole expanse of their great altitude, therefore he made his way upward without trouble or accident at first. The moon's rays could not pierce the density of the tropic foliage, of course, but Alvarado was very familiar with this easier portion of the way, for he had often traversed it on hunting expeditions, and he made good progress for several hours in spite of the obscurity.

It had been long past midnight when he started, and it was not until daybreak that he passed above the familiar and not untrodden way and entered upon the most perilous part of his journey. The gray dawn revealed to him the appalling dangers he must face.

Sometimes clinging with iron grasp to pinnacles of rock, he swung himself along the side of some terrific precipice, where the slightest misstep meant a rush into eternity upon the rocks a thousand feet below. Sometimes he had to spring far across great gorges in the mountains that had once been bridged by mighty trunks of trees, long since moldered away. Sometimes there was nothing for him to do but to scramble down the steep sides of some dark cañon and force himself through cold torrential mountain streams that almost swept him from his feet. Again his path lay over cliffs green with moss and wet with spray, which afforded most precarious support to his grasping hands or slipping feet. Sometimes he had to force a way through thick tropic undergrowth that tore his clothing into rags.

Had he undertaken the ascent in a mere spirit of adventure he would have turned back long since from the dangers he met and surmounted with such hardship and difficulty; but he was sustained by the thought of the dreadful peril of the woman he loved, the remembrance of the sufferings of the hapless townspeople, and a consuming desire for revenge upon the man who had wrought this ruin on the shore. With the pale, beautiful face of Mercedes to lead him, and by contrast the hateful, cruel countenance of Morgan to force him, ever before his vision, the man plunged upward with unnatural strength, braving dangers, taking chances, doing the impossible--and Providence watched over him.

It was perhaps nine o'clock in the morning when he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed--and looked down on the white city of Caracas set in its verdant environment like a handful of pearls in a goblet of emerald. He had wondered if he would be in time to intercept the Viceroy, and his strained heart leaped in his tired breast when he saw, a few miles beyond the town on the road winding toward the Orinoco country, a body of men. The sunlight blazing from polished helms or pointed lance tips proclaimed that they were soldiers. He would be in time, thank God!

With renewed vigor, he scrambled down the side of the mountain--and this descent fortunately happened to be gentle and easy--and running with headlong speed, he soon drew near the gate of the palace. He dashed into it with reckless haste, indifferent to the protests of the guard, who did not at first recognize in the tattered, bloody, wounded, soiled specimen of humanity his gay and gallant commander. He made himself known at once, and was confirmed in his surmise that the Viceroy had set forth with his troops early in the morning and was still in reaching distance on the road.

Directing the best horse in the stables to be brought to him, after snatching a hasty meal while it was being saddled, and not even taking time to re-clothe himself, he mounted and galloped after. An hour later he burst through the ranks of the little army and reined in his horse before the astonished Viceroy, who did not recognize in this sorry cavalier his favorite officer, and stern words of reproof for the unceremonious interruption of the horseman broke from his lips until they were checked by the first word from the young captain.

"The buccaneers have taken La Guayra and sacked it!" gasped Alvarado hoarsely.

"Alvarado!" cried the Viceroy, recognizing him as he spoke. "Are you mad?"

"Would God I were, my lord."

"The buccaneers?"

"Morgan--all Spain hates him with reason--led them!"

"Morgan! That accursed scourge again in arms? Impossible! I don't understand!"

"The very same! 'Tis true! 'tis true! Oh, your Excellency----"

"And my daughter----"

"A prisoner! For God's love turn back the men!"

"Instantly!" cried the Viceroy.

He was burning with anxiety to hear more, but he was too good a soldier to hesitate as to the first thing to be done. Raising himself in his stirrups he gave a few sharp commands and the little army, which had halted when he had, faced about and began the return march to Caracas at full speed. As soon as their manoeuvres had been completed and they moved off, the Viceroy, who rode at the head with Alvarado and the gentlemen of his suite, broke into anxious questioning.

"Now, Captain, but that thou art a skilled soldier I could not believe thy tale."

"My lord, I swear it is true!"

"And you left Donna Mercedes a prisoner?" interrupted de Tobar, who had been consumed with anxiety even greater than that of the Viceroy.

"Alas, 'tis so."

"How can that be when you are free, señor?"

"Let me question my own officer, de Tobar," resumed the Viceroy peremptorily, "and silence, all, else we learn nothing. Now, Alvarado. What is this strange tale of thine?"

"My lord, after we left you yesterday morning we made the passage safely down the mountain. Toward evening as we approached La Guayra, just before the point where the road turns into the strand, we were set upon by men in ambush. The soldiers and attendants were without exception slain. Although I fought and beat down one or two of our assailants, they struck me to the earth and took me alive. The two ladies and I alone escaped. No indignity was offered them. I was bound and we were led along the road to a camp. There appeared to be some three hundred and fifty men under the leadership of a man who claimed to be Sir Henry Morgan, sometime pirate and robber, later Vice-Governor of Jamaica, now, as I gathered, in rebellion against his king and in arms against us. They captured the plate galleon with lading from Porto Bello and Peru, and were wrecked on this coast to the westward of La Guayra. They had determined upon the capture of that town, whence they expected to move on Caracas."

"And Mercedes?" again interrupted the impetuous and impassioned de Tobar.

"Let him tell his tale!" commanded the Viceroy, sternly. "It behooves us, gentlemen, to think first of the cities of our King."

"They had captured a band of holy nuns and priests. These were forced, especially the women, by threats you can imagine, to plant scaling ladders against the walls, and, although the troops made a brave defense, the buccaneers mastered them. They carried the place by storm and sacked it. When I left it was burning in several places and turned into a hell."

"My God!" ejaculated the old man, amid the cries and oaths of his fierce, infuriated men. "And now tell me about Mercedes."

"Morgan--who met her, you remember, when we stopped at Jamaica on our return from Madrid?"

"Yes, yes!"

"He is in love with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Therefore he kept her from the soldiery."

In his eagerness the Viceroy reined in his horse, and the officers and men, even the soldiers, stopped also and crowded around the narrator.

"Did he--did he--O Holy Mother have pity upon me!" groaned the Viceroy.

"He did her no violence save to kiss her, while I was by."

"And you suffered it!" shouted de Tobar, beside himself with rage.

"What did she then?" asked the old man, waving his hand for silence.

"She struck him in the face again and again with her riding-whip. I was bound, señors. I broke my bonds, struck down one of the guards, wrested a sword from another, and sprang to defend her. But they overpowered me. Indeed, they seized the lady and swore to kill her unless I dropped my weapon."

"Death," cried de Lara, "would have been perhaps a fitting end for her. What more?"

"We were conveyed into the city after the sack. He insulted her again with his compliments and propositions. He sent a slave to fetch her, but, bound as I was, I sprang upon him and beat him down."

"And then?"

"Then one of his men, an ancient, one-eyed sailor, interfered and bade him look to the town, else it would be burned over his head, and urged him to secure the pass. In this exigency the pirate desisted from his plan against the lady. He sent Donna Mercedes to a dungeon, me to another."

"How came you here, sir, and alone?" asked de Tobar, again interrupting, and this time the Viceroy, pitying the agony of the lover, permitted the question. "Did you, a Spanish officer, leave the lady defenseless amid those human tigers?"

"There was nothing else to do, Don Felipe. The sailor who interfered, he set me free. I did refuse to leave without the señorita. He told me I must go without her or not at all. He promised to protect her honor or to kill her--at least to furnish her with a weapon. To go, to reach you, your Excellency, was the only chance for her. Going, I might save her; staying, I could only die."

"You did rightly. I commend you," answered the veteran. "Go on."

"My lord, I thank you. The way over the road was barred by the party that had seized the pass."

"And how came you?"

"Straight over the mountain, sir."

"What! The Indian trail? The English