Part 2

I walked about the vessel, and when I came to the stern, I started back, smitten with stark amazement. Her name was painted in great golden letters there; I read it: 'twas SAN FELIPE, the name of the galleon wherein the father of my friend Antonio had sailed from San Domingo eleven years since, and which had never more been heard of.

I thought of witchcraft, and questioned whether 'twere not the very work of the devil, for sure no mortal hands had brought the vessel through solid walls into this rock-bound chamber. But the galleon itself was in truth a thing of substance; thee were real shells at the brink of the water; the water itself (when I dipped my finger and licked it) was salt; beyond doubt the vault had communication with the sea. And even while I stood there I perceived the water to be rising; 'twas deeper now than when the man had first waded through it to the vessel. In haste I made the full circuit of the place, searching for an entrance, but in vain. Save the fissures letting in the light, there was not a hole through which a rat might wriggle, nor could I find the passage by which the water came.

In much perplexity, oppressed by the wonder of it, I left the place by and by and returned to my hut. But I could not long withhold myself from the cavern, the which lured and (in a manner) beckoned me by some strange spell. Next day I came again to it, and did as I had seen the red man do--to wit, waded through the water and climbed on board. My feet had scarce touched the deck when I beheld the red form standing in the narrow entrance at the further end of the vault. Quick as thought I slipped into hiding on the lofty poop and there kept watch. The man came aboard and descended by the companion, and a little after I heard the tinkling of metal. I was drawn as by strong cords to learn what he was doing, and crept silently as a mouse after him to the cabin. As I drew near I heard again the clink of metal, and when I came to the door I beheld the man kneeling before an open chest, gloating over it, plunging his hands into it, bathing them in the pieces of eight that filled it to the brim.

Spellbound, I stood and gazed. This discovery did but deepen the wonder. I questioned whether this were Antonio's father, who had never sailed to Spain at all, but by some strange means, belike with the help of demons, had brought the vessel hither. And then, as I mused, the red man seemed to become aware by some subtle sense that he was not alone. Suddenly he turned his head, espied me, sprang to his feet, and, whipping out his rapier, leapt with a fierce cry towards me. I turned to flee, being unarmed save for my machete, the which was no match for a rapier. But I was a thought too late. The red man was upon my heels ere I could slip overboard, crying out upon me in words which I was too busy saving my life to heed.

Then began a hot chase round the deck of the galleon, the which might have continued until the pursuer, being the elder, became exhausted, had not I espied, in my running, a half-pike lying over against the bulwarks. This I snatched up, and put myself in a posture of defence. "Voleur! voleur!" cried the red man, glaring at me; and now I had certainty he was no Spaniard. We fought, and doubtless I had fared ill but for my youth and the exercise I had had in this very opposition of pike against sword upon the voyage in the _Elizabeth_. I was but sixteen; the Frenchman wore the grave aspect of a man of fifty; and though he fought as one well practised in the handling of his weapon, 'twas with a stiffness and want of sureness that bespoke disuse.

Yet 'twas a desperate fight. Once and again I came very near to lose my life, and escaped the Frenchman's point solely by my nimbleness. Twice, indeed, the weapon found my flesh; there was blood upon my sleeve. And then came my opportunity. The Frenchman in lunging at me over-reached himself, and I brought my pike down with all my strength upon his arm. His rapier fell to the deck, and before he could recover himself I sprang upon him, and, by a trick of wrestling I had learnt in bouts at our country fairs, threw him upon his back.

And there were we two, he stretched on the deck, I pinning him down, and both of us breathing hard, and gazing each into the other's eyes. Then I spoke in French: what I said I know not; but he smiled, a vacant smile that made me sorry I had hurt him.

"Thou art one of my children," he said. "How didst thou escape?"

By this, and the strangeness of his smile, I knew that his wits were wandering, and deemed it best to humour him.

"Yes, one of your children," I made answer, understanding the word _enfants_ as doubtless he intended, as meaning his company, or crew. "You were mistaken, sir; and I hope I have not broken your arm."

"It is bruised, not broken," said the man, lifting it and smiling upon me again. "I do not remember thy name, but thou shalt be my corporal."

"Wherein I am mightily favoured," said I. "Marvellously, too, I have forgotten your name, mon Capitaine."

"My name!" he said, in manifest puzzlement. "My name!" And then, smiling once more, he said, "I cannot tell. It is so long, so long since I heard it. My children called me Captain, but that was before the storm. I forget many things; my children left me; they were reft from me by the storm; they died--all but you; and I cannot remember your name! They called me Captain; and in truth I am Captain, by the choice and election of the great Conde. Yes, the great Conde made me Captain, a stripling from Quimperle."

"Captain Q," said I, on the spur of the moment.

He looked puzzled; then the same smile, like the empty smile of a babe, beamed upon his face, and he said--

"Captain Q; and thou shalt be Corporal R. Is it not so?"

"And so it is," I said. "My name is Rudd; I am an Englishman."

"And we will fight the Spaniards together, shall we not? They must never get my gold--never!"

"Indeed they shall not!" I replied. "And now let us go out into the open, and I will bathe your arm at a brook. 'Tis pity we did not remember each other sooner."

"Ah, but it is such a long time!" said Captain Q.

We went out together, and after I had bathed his arm ('twas bruised from elbow to wrist) the Captain invited me to his hut, and to a share of his dinner of herbs.

Such was the strange beginning of a friendship that endured for near forty years. Though he was by so much my elder, he dealt with me as though I had been his brother. We roamed the shore together, together fished and snared animals in the woods, and would have shared the same lodging but that I preferred to keep my little hut on the shore, where I had fresher air and was within close call of any ship that should chance to pass in the night. Little by little I pieced together the story of the rock-girt galleon and of Captain Q. He could not talk in orderly sequence for long together, but whatsoever the subject of our discourse, he would break off to prattle of his childhood in the little village of Quimperle, and of his youth and manhood to the time when destiny brought him to Tortuga. He was a Huguenot, and had fought under Conde at St. Denis, and under Admiral Coligny at Jarnac. After the dread day of St. Bartholomew he fled from France, and became a corsair in his own vessel, haunting the coasts of the Spanish Main. One day he fell in with the galleon _San Felipe_, and took it after a long fight. His own ship being small, he put his crew aboard the galleon, and the crew and company of the galleon upon his ship, and then sailed away for Tortuga, designing to land there and divide the spoil. And his little vessel, with the Spaniards on board, had gone down before his very eyes, having received sore damage in the action.

Before the _San Felipe_ made Tortuga she was caught in a great storm, which swept upon her suddenly and sent her masts by the board. During a lull she was warped into a cove on the Tortuga coast, and there refitted. Then, as she was being towed out, all hands busy in the work, the sea was cast up by a great earthquake; the cliffs on either hand were upheaved and flung sheer upon the vessel, killing outright every man upon it and in the boats save only the Captain and two or three beside. The Captain was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, and thrown senseless to the deck. (And here, as he told the story, he lifted his long, grizzling locks and showed a great seam upon his skull.) When he came to himself all was at first mere blankness to him. He got upon his feet, lost in amaze to behold the galleon encompassed by a vault of rock, and tended the few men that had survived the cataclysm, but they lingered for a little and then all died, leaving him alone.

Little by little the past came back to him, and he was not aware of any change in himself save that his memory played him tricks. But I perceived that the shock and the blow on the head had done his intellects more harm than he knew. He had long fits of silence, wherein he would sit and gaze vacantly out to sea, or would march with drawn sword into the woodland, seeking an enemy that had come to steal his gold. Other whiles he would weave baskets of grass, humming little songs, or babbling in the manner of children. He never ceased to regard me as one of his whilom crew, and in my pity I said nought to undeceive him.

He knew not how long he had dwelt upon the island. I asked him whether he had been alone all the time, and why he had not discovered himself to the French and English pirates who had doubtless sometimes come ashore.

He smiled cunningly, and said, "Could I trust them? They were not my friends. Say that I told them of the ship, and the great treasure it contained, think you they would not have desired it for their own, and taken it from me, and left me poor? I trusted La Noue" (his thoughts were straying to his youth and the siege of La Rochelle): "all men trusted him. He was saved at Jarnac."

And then he fell a-musing. At another time he told me that he had been minded once to join a party that had landed, telling them nothing, with intent to return at some convenient season for his treasure. But he feared lest during his absence it should be discovered, and he might return only to find that the vessel had been stripped bare. The treasure was the sole thing he clung to; he could not bring himself to part from it even for a day; once a day at the least he descended into the cabin and feasted his eyes on the great store of gold and jewels. He had become a miser. And so he carefully shunned such men as had come ashore; and once he had been near to starving, when a crew encamped beneath the cliff wherein was the entrance to his cavern, and remained there for several days, he not daring to issue forth for food, lest he should be seen.

I marvelled often that the Captain never showed any distrust of me. He took me often into the cabin, and sometimes set me to count the money piece by piece, and to display the jewels on the lids of the chests. Indeed, he took, methought, a childish pleasure in thus exhibiting his wealth, and when the precious things were all set in array before him, he would gaze from them to me with a simple pride and contentation which I found infinitely moving.

*II*

Thus many days passed. I looked often out to sea for a friendly ship, but none touched on the island, and those that sailed by were Spanish built, and I durst not hail them.

One night a great storm arose. Rain fell in floods, thunder roared all around, the sky was by moments ablaze with lightning such as I had never seen. Driven from my hut, I wended my way toilsomely through the blinding torrents to the cavern, and took shelter for the remainder of the night with Captain Q on board the galleon. Towards morning the fury of the storm abated, but the wind was still high, and when we left our refuge and stood on the cliff, so that the sunbeams might dry our drenched garments, we espied a ship fast on the rocks a little distance from shore. The sea was tempestuous: mighty waves smote and battered upon the vessel, and I perceived very clearly that she was fast going to pieces.

While we stood watching, and pitying the poor wights gathered upon deck, a man sprang overboard with a rope, and struck out for the land, the waves buffeting him sorely, dashing over him, so that many times he seemed to have sunk to the bottom. Stirred by the spectacle, the Captain put off his caution and timorousness, and stepped forth from behind the rock where hitherto he had stood at gaze. His red garb flashed upon the eye of the swimmer, and methought I heard a despairing cry for help. On the instant I ran down to the shore, with Captain Q at my side. Half witless as he was in general, the Captain had all his faculties at this moment of great need. With me he plunged to his waist into the sea, with no less calmness than a man might wade a brook, and caught the swimmer as he was on the point of sinking. And as we hauled him safe ashore, I lifted my voice in a shout of joy: for the half-drowned seaman was none other than Richard Ball, boatswain of my own ship, the _Elizabeth_.

"Why, Dick, man," I cried, "'tis you!"

"God bless 'ee!" panted the man, and then, unable to speak more, he pointed to the wreck, and seemed to urge that something should be done for his messmates there.

And now Captain Q once more showed the mettle of a man. Catching up the rope that was looped about the boatswain's body, he called to me to help him to lash it about a rock; and when this was done, the crew and the adventurers came along it one by one, hand over hand, from the vessel, until all, to the number of thirty-seven, were safe on shore. Joyously I greeted them, calling each man by name. Hilary Rawdon, the captain, came the last; and he had but set his feet upon the strand when the hapless vessel fell apart, and was swept away upon the waves.

Groans and cries of lamentation broke from the shipwrecked mariners; their grief at the loss of their vessel for a time outweighed all thankfulness for their escape from death. But Hilary clapped me on the back, and wrung my hand, and cried--

"Gramercy, lad, but 'tis good to see thee once again. Verily I believed thee dead, and what was I to say to thy good folk at home?"

And then we fell a-talking eagerly, and the other adventurers flocked about us, desiring to know what had befallen me since the day when I went ashore on Hispaniola and returned not. And I was so rapt with joy at the sight of my friends that I laughed, and for sheer gladness greeted them again by name--"Tom Hawke, old friend!" and "Harry Loveday, my bawcock!"--and was so possessed by my ecstasy that I forgot Captain Q until Hilary recalled me to the present with a question--

"And who is our blood-red friend, old lad?"

I swung myself about. The Frenchman was gone.

"'Tis Captain Q," I said, and was about to tell more, when I caught myself up, in doubt of what the Captain would say if his secret were disclosed. Having trusted me, peradventure he would deem himself betrayed if I should make any revelation. 'Twas borne upon me that I must needs consult with him before telling any whit of his story.

"Methinks your Captain Kew is of a backward disposition, seeing that he hath departed without our thanks," said Hilary. "We must e'en go after him, my lad. But let us hear all that hath happed to thee since we gave thee up for dead."

I told how I was taken prisoner, and of my captivity and servitude under Don Alfonso de Silva de Marabona, and Tom Hawke, in his boyish way, instantly caught at the name, and wished he might live to pluck Old Marrow-bones by the beard. Then I told of my escape and journey to Tortuga, where I had been, as I guessed, a matter of a month.

"And your Captain Kew, what of him?" asked Hilary. "Is he of the Kews of Ditchingham, and how came he here?"

And I saw that the secret must come out. If I did not myself tell it, my friends would certainly not rest until they had discovered it for themselves, and 'twas not unlike that Captain Q would fare very ill at their hands, and lose all the treasure whereby he set such store. Better that his story should be told by one who had fellow-feeling for him than that all should be left to chance. So I took Hilary Rawdon aside and acquainted him with my discoveries.

"Why, 'tis he that is the thief," cried Hilary when he had heard all. "We have as good a right to the treasure as he."

"Some of it belongs by right to Antonio de Marabona, whom his uncle has defrauded," I replied.

"Tuts, lad, in this part of the world it belongs to them that can take it. Did we not sail hither, I ask you, in quest of treasure? Have we not lost men and suffered shipwreck in this very adventure against the Queen's enemies? Should we not have captured this very galleon had we come but eleven years ago? Is not your answer 'Yes,' and 'Yes,' and 'Yes'?"

He looked at me with triumph. Certainly there was no gainsaying his reasoning, though the third of his questions had a smack of inconsequence that bid for laughter. But I made a condition, as seemed to me just.

"Give me your word," I said, "that Captain Q shall suffer no hurt, and shall have a fair share of the treasure. As for Antonio, I fear me he must suffer for having been born a Spaniard."

"He is no worse off than he was," said Hilary. "The galleon, as he believes, lies at the bottom of the sea; and I trow if you returned to him, and brought him here, and restored to him what was once his, Tom Hawke or Harry Loveday, or one of the mariners, would incontinently knock him on the head (being a Spaniard), and all be as before. And as for Captain Q, 'tis the fortune of war, my lad; we take from him what he himself took."

"Yet 'tis by his help that you, and Tom Hawke, and Harry Loveday, and all the mariners, are this moment alive," I said.

"True, old lad," said he, "and we must not forget it. But come, let us wend to this wondrous vault of his, and see with our own eyes the marvel you tell us of."

With us we took only Hawke and Loveday, leaving the mariners to their devices. This was at my wish, for I feared lest the men, if they in their present distress should learn of rich treasure so close at hand, should forget gratitude and discipline, and leap like hungry wolves upon their prey. They were good seamen, and honest souls withal, but lawless and ill-taught, and possessed with a marvellous scorn of men of other race. And now they stood upon the beach and bemoaned their fate, and cursed the day when they sailed out of Southampton on this ill-starred and bootless quest.

We four went on to the cavern. Captain Q seemed to have expected us, for when we came to the entrance, there was he, sword in hand, ready to dispute our advance. Tom Hawke, a wild young spirit, was for rushing upon him there and then, and beating him down by main force, and indeed he stepped forward to cross swords with the Frenchman. But I could not endure that my friend should be dealt with thus, and calling Tom Hawke back (who indeed already repented of his discourtesy), I proposed that we should humour the Frenchman--call him Captain, place ourselves at his orders, and promise to attempt to make a passage for the vessel, so that he might once more sail the seas with a merry crew.

"I'faith, a right excellent conceit!" cried Hilary. "I salute you, Captain Q," he added, with a profound bow. "Unfold to him our purpose, Kitt."

And I went before them and spoke to the Captain, and when he understood he smiled with pleasure, dropped his point, and, with a commanding gesture that mightily became him, bade us bring up his new company to set about the work.

"Oui, certainement, mon Capitaine," said Hilary; and when by and by the men, in sober mood, came up, and the matter was put to them, "Ay, ay, sir," cried Richard Ball, the boatswain; "Ay, ay, sir," the men chimed in, and the Captain led us into the cavern.

Cries of astonishment broke from the men's lips when they saw that miracle of Nature, and of admiration as they walked around about the galleon and marked her noble lines.

"A rare craft indeed!" said Hilary. "She is worth a fortune to us, Kitt, even without the treasure she contains. And that same treasure, my lad--I yearn to dip my fingers into it."

"Wait; let me bargain with Captain Q," I said, and I followed the Frenchman up the ladder to the deck, and stood long in talk with him. When I returned to my friends I told them that the Captain was willing to share a great portion of his gold among them, if they would bring the vessel to the sea and rig her for a voyage.

"Vive le Capitaine Q!" cried Hilary, and the whole company broke forth into lusty cheers. The Captain's eyes gleamed with pleasure; he called them his children, vowing to lead them a-roving and do great despite upon the Spaniards. But his face darkened when Hilary offered to mount on board and inspect the treasure.

"No, no," he cried; "that is for none to see but my corporal."

And I persuaded my friends to accept the denial for the time, and to accompany me in a circuit of the cavern to find a spot where a passage might be made to the sea.

The fore-part of the cavern, towards the cliff, was much encumbered with fragments of rock, large and small. The sides were of rock; if the fore-wall was of rock also, 'twas clear that with all the tools we had at hand--pikes and belaying-pins, and such-like gear--'twould be impossible to open a passage. With gunpowder we might have blasted the rock but for the water which flowed in at every tide, and so shut us from access to the lower part of the wall. But if this were of earth, the task was one that could be compassed with time and patience. 'Twas our first concern to discover the thickness of the wall, and to this end Richard Ball clambered on to the loftiest of the rocky fragments, and another man mounted upon his shoulders, so that he might reach to one of the narrow fissures that let the daylight in. And then, by passing a pike through it, he proved by the report of a man without that the wall was no more than six feet thick.

Next, our task was to remove a number of rocks that lay without like a natural rampart about the base of the cliff, and were washed by a strong current. Ropes, whereof the galleon held a plenty, were fixed about them, and by dint of much hauling, the rocks were displaced one by one, and being removed, the sea entered the cavern more freely, though 'twas clear that the water in it would never be of depth enough to float the galleon.

As soon as the tide was gone down, we essayed to pierce a hole through the wall a little above the water level. To our great joy, we found that this portion of the wall was of earth, and before the tide rose again the men had cut a narrow tunnel through to the base of the cliff. It being night by the time this was done, the men made for themselves beds of grass and leaves upon the skirts of the woodland, being divided into watches as on board ship.

With morning light we took up our task again. We perceived that the ebb tide had carried away a great deal of the loose earth, and so made the tunnel wider. The men toiled all day by companies, increasing the passage both in width and height, the sides and roof being shored up with timber from the woods against a fall of earth from above. Captain Q watched the labour with a childish curiosity, and, in pursuance of my plan of humouring him, I now and then prompted him with commands to give the men, and they responded with obsequious and cheerful cries of "Ay, ay, sir," winking to each other the while.