The clock, from a neighbouring church, struck two. My cell-door opened gently, and the turnkey appeared,[Pg 244] carrying in his hand a tolerable-sized bundle, which I eagerly assisted him to undo. It contained a good suit, such as is commonly worn by Spanish sailors, with stout leggings fitted for scrambling in the woods, and a broad-brimmed and steeple-crowned felt hat. The doublet was tied round my waist with a broad silk sash, and into this I stuck a gleaming knife, similar to that carried by almost all Spaniards. But when the turnkey produced, from under his doublet, a short-barrelled carabine, or musquetoon—a trabucco, as he called it—with a fair supply of shot and slugs, I burst out into exclamations of gratitude.
‘Long live Don José!’ I cried. ‘I fear not the woods now; there is life and food within this hollow iron.’
‘Look you,’ said the turnkey, ‘here be the words of the nobleman who hath sent these. “Tell,” quoth he, “tell the Scots mariner, that as he bore himself before the alcaide like one whose word and good faith were dear to him, that I supply him with these weapons, upon his solemn promise that he will use them only to procure himself food, and that he will not turn them against any Spaniard, excepting only strictly in the way of self-defence.”’
You may be assured that this reasonable pledge I gave with the utmost readiness, and poising my musquetoon, and trying how it fitted to my shoulder, I cried, gaily—
‘Come—come! Despatch—despatch! good master jailer; your friends will be rousing themselves from their siesta. Faith, man, were you as near the gallows as I am every moment I linger here, you would pant to hear the free rustle of the branches above you.’
All the while that the turnkey was helping me on with my new costume, I kept thinking of where I should bend my steps as soon as I got clear of Carthagena. It was very likely, I thought, that the schooner would keep hovering upon the coast, still waiting for the galleon, the sailing of which would no doubt be delayed by what had happened. I considered, moreover, that the Will-o’-the-Wisp[Pg 245] would be most likely to ply to the eastward, so as to keep the weather-gauge of the port she was watching, and that it was quite possible that she might approach near enough the shore for me to make a signal, by kindling a fire, or by any other means which might seem available, in order to attract her notice. So I determined, as soon as I could get fairly free of the town, to turn to the eastward and to descend again upon the coast some eight or ten miles from Carthagena.
‘Now,’ quoth the turnkey, ‘you will easily perceive that I am not to be seen in this business. Your escape must appear to have been effected by yourself, and it will be the more easy, inasmuch as the lock on this door has seen much service, and is not difficult to wrench off; especially when a man is provided with such a weapon as this,’ and he handed to me a strong iron chisel, or rather short crow-bar.
‘Listen,’ he continued; ‘I will again lock you up. Let five minutes elapse, then wrench open the door; take the two first turnings to your left, the next turning to your right, the next to your left again, and you are opposite the street. A sentry stands there. If he be asleep, as is not unlikely, good and well. If he be awake and challenge, reply, “Guarda Costa,”—that is the countersign. You must then shift for yourself. Farewell, Señor Buccaneer, and if ever you meet Don José fail not to tell him I behaved honestly by you, and earned his doubloons well. You will not forget “Guarda Costa.” Adieu.’
The door closed on him; I waited in silence and with a beating heart. It was a long five minutes which elapsed; but at its expiration, as nearly as I could judge, I inserted the short crowbar between the staple which held the bolt, and the lintel of the door. The wood was crumbling and rotten, and the iron eaten with long gathering rust. Gradually, as I applied my strength, the mouldy timber gave way beneath the pressure, and the metal creaked and crackled. I could have burst it off with one effort of my muscles, but I feared to make a[Pg 246] noise; and so, gradually working the point of the crowbar further and further into the wreck of the dilapidated fastenings, I increased the strain, until at length, with one long, steady and vehement wrench, I tore the staples from the yielding wood. The metal fell with a clash upon the floor; the door, which opened inwardly, swung back; and I saw—the ferret eyes and the twitching visage of the alcaide’s clerk, staring and grinning through the opening.
I started back as though a demon had looked me in the face. The small wrinkled and puckered features worked and twisted, and the eyes gleamed so as to resemble nothing earthly. Then I saw the hand of the clerk creep stealthily towards the bosom of his mean doublet, without doubt to pluck therefrom a weapon; his lips moved, and the first syllables of a cry of alarm had passed them, when I sprang forward, and the grasp of my fingers round his meagre throat smothered the words. All this took place in an instant. I dragged the wretch inside the cell; struck to the door with a blow of my foot, and clutching both his thin wrists in my left hand, gripped his throat with my right, until the skin got blue and the eyes protruded all glaring and bloodshot. I thought for a moment to strangle him as we stood, but as I felt the weak struggles of the hapless creature, who writhed like a child in my grasp, my heart softened. I released my hold upon his throat.
‘Were you strong and I weak,’ I whispered to him, ‘there would be little pity shown. You are athirst for my blood, but Providence has willed that you shall not be gratified. As I grant you mercy now, show mercy to others.’
The clerk tried to speak, but only husky murmurs passed his lips.
‘Lie there,’ I continued, ‘until your friends come to your rescue.’
With that I flung the man upon the floor, so as partially to stun him, and then, with the aid of some ratline stuff, which sailors go seldom without, and which[Pg 247] was in the pocket of my old doublet, I both bound and gagged him, not very completely, it is true, but sufficiently, as I believed, to prevent any alarm being given until I had got a good start. It was pitiful to see the impotent spite with which the manacled creature writhed upon the ground, gibbering with his speechless mouth, and flashing his green eyes as though he could have shot blistering venom out of them upon me. But I had little time to bestow upon the spectacle: with a quick step and a beating heart I fled along the corridors. During my scuffle with the clerk, the turnkey’s directions had never ceased to ring in my ears. The two first turnings to the left, the next to the right, the next to the left again. The silent passages echoed to my footsteps with a hollow, ominous sound. There were many nail-studded doors, similar to that of my own cell, on either side. As I made the last turning, I had a glimpse, in the distance, of the guard-room into which I had been at first conducted, and then, looking straight ahead, I saw before me the narrow street, with its deep, dusty ruts, scorching, as it were, in the hot sun. The passage terminated in a great gateway, with pillars and a portico, and on the left side of the door stood a sentry-box, painted white. Pausing for a moment to assume all possible coolness, I walked steadily out humming the butt-end of a Spanish sea-song, which the manners of that nation sing when heaving the anchor to the bows.
Just as I passed the porch I glanced at the sentry. He was a young man; his features bronzed almost black with the sun, and wearing silver earrings, glittering amongst his long greasy curls. The fellow was sitting leaning against his sentry-box; his musket, with his bayonet fixed, hung carelessly across his knee. As I strode by, he half opened his sleepy eyes, and muttered mechanically as though speaking in a dream.
‘Guarda Costa,’ I said, carelessly. The man muttered something again, and his chin fell upon his breast. Like a phantom I glided up the hot and silent street. Not a soul was to be seen. The cloth of outside blinds and the[Pg 248] gay draperies hanging from balconies, rustled in the cooling wind, while those thin slices of wood, forming what are called in the Indies, ‘jalousies,’ clattered with a merry rattle. Dogs lay listlessly stretched out in shady corners; bullocks, harnessed to clumsy carts, lay chewing the cud between the shafts, and two or three mendicants, as I judged them from their rags and filth, were stretched beneath gateways and under pillars, where the breeze came freshest. But the spell of sleep was everywhere. Midnight in New Spain might bring the time of gallant assignation and joyous revel, but the drowsy afternoon shone upon a city steeped in sleep, even as though one of the mighty charms which I used to read of in idle chronicles of old fancies, were abroad over the dreaming people, one of those charms of glamour and gramarye of the days when Michael Scott split the Eildon hills in three, and Thomas of Erceldoune was courted of the faery queen!
‘So, blessings on that good old Spanish custom, the siesta,’ I cried to myself, as I sped along the deserted thoroughfare. Carthagena is not large, neither is it fortified towards the land side. Very little time had therefore elapsed until I found myself fairly beyond the city, and running along a rough road, with great plenty of trees and bushes on either side, and patches of fields, wherein grew the broad brown-leaved tobacco plant, and here and there a hut, with a yam garden about it, or the country house of a Carthagena merchant, with prim terraces and avenues of limes, and fountains sparkling among the leaves. These I ran past as speedily as possible; but there was no appearance of aught stirring about them more than in the city. The siesta was everywhere, ay, even in the great woods, which at length I reached; the birds sitting motionless upon the branches, and the beasts of the earth hiding in dens and holes from the fervid noontide heat. The road which I had followed gradually disappeared, splitting as it were into many little tracks made by hunters or other wanderers in the woods. Around me there soon rose rocks and steep hills, and the tangled underwood and the long grass[Pg 249] made walking difficult. However, I was in too great spirits to feel much weariness. Every step I took was almost as a year added to my life. So, at last, when I saw that I had really plunged fairly into the wilderness, I forced my way amid the rank vegetation, tearing through brake and thicket, and singing and shouting lustily in the fulness of my heart. The sun was my compass, and by him I steered eastwardly.
‘Ho! ho! Stout Jem,’ I cried to myself, ‘mayhap, we are but now laying the same course; the gay schooner out upon the tilting sea, and he that loves her well amid the shady woods and green savannahs of the main. So we shall meet again, comrades—we shall meet again!’
In this merry mood I traversed several miles before I thought of refreshment or of rest. It was just as my limbs began to ache and my breath to come short, as I breasted a steep hill, that I came to a fair fountain gurgling from a rift in a low mossy rock. It was not an unknown well of the wilderness, for human hands had placed a doubled leaf, through which, as through a spout, the living water ran from the runnel, and tinkled out into a natural basin beneath.
So here I sat me down and wiped the perspiration from my brow. It was a lonely spot, and I wondered whose hands had plucked the leaf and laid it in its place. From the basin I speak of, the water ran amid rustling reeds, and great floating leaves, and gaudy flowers, until it spread itself out into a shallow pool, half covered with greasy scum, but elsewhere as clear as the air above it. In the centre of the pool sat a little bird of the diver species, with the glossy neck and the bright beady eyes which I love in water-fowl. He took little notice of me, and I sat and watched him as he glided to and fro amid the floating leaves and twigs which had fallen from the trees. While thus occupied, I heard once or twice the distant bay as of a dog.
‘Ho!’ thought I, ‘the siesta is over, and Señors the dogs are the first astir.’
My eye fell upon the water-fowl again. It seemed[Pg 250] disquieted, and swam quickly to and fro, making a soft quackle, and jerking its little head, as its kind do when listening. The bay of the dog was heard again—it seemed to have come nearer—and, directly, the water-bird, half swimming and half flying, beating the surface with its wings as it went, took refuge in the thickest of the sedges and disappeared. This little incident roused me. I started up and hearkened. Again, the deep hollow echo of the hound’s bay struck my ears. It was very different from the yelping of a woodman’s cur; and the dogs of the Indians do not bark. Immediately a thought flashed upon me—a ghastly—appalling thought: the Spaniards were upon my track with bloodhounds! Almost instinctively I started up and fled, stumbling as I went. I had a horror of these fiends of dogs, trained to hunt men; and, as I flew along, I thought every moment that I heard the savage creatures panting close behind me. After about ten minutes’ quick running, I stopped, quite spent, to breathe, and, listening for a moment, a faint sound of hallooing, and a burst of baying, loud and long, came floating on the wind. I turned and fled again, straining every nerve mechanically, although I knew but too well that, fleet as was my foot, every time it touched the ground it left the mark which guided the avengers. I, therefore, tried to leap and double, and even got up into a tree and swung myself along by means of the interlacing branches. But this was slow work, I dropped to the ground, and ran again. All this time the voice of the dog was sounding nearer and nearer behind me, and I wondered how my pursuers could keep up with him, at the rate he was evidently running. Nevertheless, I loosened the knife in my girdle and prepared for the struggle. As I did so, I thought of my blunderbuss. Heaven! I had left it behind in my first alarm at the well. The token would have told the Spaniards that their four-footed guide was as sure as it appeared swift. The baying of the accursed hound came close and closer. Oh! how I envied the birds as they rose with a rustle and a scream from the foliage, and soared away in the[Pg 251] air, which leaves no track to tell of who has left it. Covered with sweat and dust, and reeling with fatigue, I ran almost at random. Twice I disturbed glistening snakes, which coiled their spiral folds and flashed their black eyes at me, and then glided away like slimy painted ropes pulled by some unseen hand amongst the herbage. But at that instant the bite of the labarri, or the hollow tooth of the rattlesnake, had hardly more horror for me than the gripe of the crunching jaws which were fast following on my track. By this time, the thunder of the hound’s voice was so close that I involuntarily turned at every step to see him make his appearance. The final moment came at last. Crashing with a great rustle through a bed of yielding bushes, sprang a huge, tawny dog, black and foaming at the muzzle. The creature ran, cat-like, with his belly close to the ground, his big, muscular limbs, showing as supple and slamp as a tiger’s, and his broad deep chest, and great hanging ears, all speckled white with flakes of foam. I looked for his master, but saw none; and, gazing more closely, observed a leash round the creature’s neck, and a broken leathern thong trailing beside him. This at once explained the rapidity with which he had overtaken me—the animal having broken away from those who led him, and it also sent a cheery flush of hope, dancing through my brain. Oh, how I cursed my heedlessness in leaving the carabine by the well! A handful of slugs would have stopped the blood-hound for ever, and my pursuers deprived of their guide, could seek me but at random through the woods. Could I manage him with the knife?—that was the question. I had no long time to debate it. I must either slay or be slain—there was no choice. I stopped, faced round, tore off my doublet, and wrapped it, in thick and heavy folds, round my left arm—shielding my wounded hand in addition, by grasping with it the inside of my strong and stiff felt hat. Then clutching my knife in my right, I knelt on one knee, and waited for the onset of the blood-hound.
I had, indeed, hardly assumed my position of defence[Pg 252] when he was on me. True to the instinct of his kind, he lifted neither eyes nor nose from the ground—running, truly and steadily, by the scent, until he was scarcely a couple of fathoms from me. Then, indeed, he flung up his nostrils in the air, and suddenly seeing me, uttered a loud splitting yell, champing at the same time the foam in a hot shower from his jaws, and then, with a great scrambling bound, furious and open-mouthed, pounced upon me, driving his teeth into the folds of the doublet, which I held before me as a shield, and dashing me, by the very force of his spring, over and over amid the grass, scrambling and tearing the skin from my shoulders, with his huge horny paws, and furiously shaking and riving the stuff of the doublet which, luckily for me, was both thick and strong. For a moment or two, I had no opportunity of using the knife, I could not see where to hit. There was before me but a vision of great foaming, tearing jaws, and flashing eyes, and struggling limbs—sometimes above me—sometimes beneath, as we rolled over and over in the scuffle. But at length, I had a chance; the broad muscular chest of the noble creature was left, for a moment, unsheltered by his fore-legs, and in a second I had driven the keen strong knife, through and through his lungs, the handle smiting the dog’s breast with a hollow blow. There was an immediate convulsion of the animal’s limbs. Letting go his hold of my doublet, he flung his muzzle into the air, and with a sound between a cough and a yell, threw up a hot sputtering shower of blood. Quick as thought, my reeking knife was withdrawn, and again and again plunged in up to the very hilt—the muscles of the creature’s body—a moment before, all strained and tense as iron bands—gradually collapsed—the fierce eyes turned, so that the yellowish whites shone, with a grim glare into mine, and it required but a slight effort to shake off the quivering and bleeding creature, which as I rose trembling and panting from the fray—fell heavily from my limbs, and lay gasping in its blood among the grass. Truly, it was a noble dog, as large and more powerful than the mightiest[Pg 253] stag-hound, but its deep chest had uttered its last bay, its giant limbs had run their last race. The life passed out of the quivering flesh, as I stood and gazed at it. Then flinging over my shoulders my doublet, all torn, and stained with blood and froth, I addressed myself again to flight—thankful and joyous for my deliverance. ‘Three good thrusts of this trusty steel,’ said I to myself, sheathing my knife, ‘and the utmost spite of the Spaniard has been baffled.’ I was reckoning without my host. Hardly had the words escaped my lips, when, again, the accursed bay of a blood-hound came floating in the wind. I paused and listened with clenched teeth. For an instant, I hoped that it might be but the dying growl of the animal killed. But, no, he lay stark, and the foam was already cooling upon his jaw. Again and again, came the ominous sound—I could not be mistaken. My pursuers had started with at least a brace of dogs—and they were still following fast and hot upon my footsteps. A shuddering chill passed all over me, and I felt sick at heart—then I roused myself. ‘Perhaps,’ I argued, ‘the blood of the dead hound will confuse the scent of the living one. I have heard of such things.’ But afterwards I learned that the Spaniards, seeing the body from a distance, had not allowed their four-footed guide to approach it closely, but that leading him in a circle round the carcase, the animal had again struck upon my scent—closer and fresher than ever. Thus it was, that as I forced my way through the thickets of bushes, and long rustling grass—I ever heard behind me the hollow boom of that accursed creature, as he gave loud tongue, and the distant hallooing as the Spaniards answered him with shouts and execrations. Summoning my resources, I tried, as I ran, to call to mind the legends of men chased with blood hounds—of which I had heard in my childhood, and the means whereby they had baffled their pursuers. For many such tales are told on winter nights by Scottish hearths—of the bold moss-troopers of Teviot and Annan, and the wild northern caterans beyond the Highland line. But my memory seemed to have forsaken me. I could[Pg 254] remember none of the devices which I had so often admired—although it is possible that were I keeping a calm mid-watch at sea, heaps of such stories would have flocked unsummoned into my brain. So I did naught save press instinctively forward—having little idea of the direction I was pursuing, and indeed seeking only for the open glades and avenues of the forest, through which I could make the better speed. But hope began again rapidly to leave me. The waves roar not after a scudding bark, with more unceasing tumult, than there arose behind me the clamour of my pursuers. I winded and doubled—I ran north—then turned on my heel and speeded in the opposite direction; but still, as a cock-boat follows a ship to which she is made fast, through all her tackings and veerings—so did my pursuers tread steadily in my track. I began to grow desperate. Again, I drew my knife from its sheath, and stopping, and leaning, panting, against a great tree, I made up my mind to rest there—recover what strength I could, and sell my life as dearly as might be. At that moment, I heard a low continuous sound—a deep hollow boom echoing faintly in the wood. I listened intently, and then started up, almost with the vigour with which I had began my flight. I could not be deceived—what I heard was the roar of a waterfall, and the sound in an instant brought, as it were, a vision before my eyes. It was the vision of an old, iron-clasped book, which we had at home at Kirkleslie. Its cover was thick parchment, its leaves were brown with age, and the letters were strange and quaint. This book my father had prized next to the Bible, and those which treated of holy things, and often was it in his hands, both out at sea and by the cosy ingle-nook in the stormy winter time. It was, indeed, an ancient chronicle of the ‘Life and Death of King Robert the Bruce,’ and at the same instant of time as I remembered it—one sentence in particular loomed, as it were, before me, until I could almost fancy I saw the very strange old letters quivering in the sunshine. This was the sentence:—
[Pg 255]
“And now the Kynge being sore pressed by the Blood-houndis of ye traytour Lorne, ye whythe had followed him even from ye up gettynge of ye sun, and beyinge come unto ane small rivere, did straighte enter therynne, and in such mannerre pursue his flyghte, so that ye living waterres washynge clean awaye ye scente of his footsteppes, the blood-houndis were at faulte, and ye traytour Lorne was baffled for that tymme. Thus did ye Kynge escape aue great dangere.”
‘Fool as I was,’ I exclaimed, ‘not to have thought of the Bruce and Macdougall of Lorne before!’ With new life and vigour, I pressed forward in the direction of the waterfall. The noise came every instant louder and louder upon my ear; and in a short space, I had burst my way down a steep bank, and to the edge of a deep pool, or cauldron, into which a large rivulet came thundering and foaming down, through a deep chasm in the rocks above. I had little time to admire the loveliness of the cataract; but rushing to the outlet of the pool, I saw that the stream went dancing down a pebbly bed, intersected here and there with low veins and ledges of rocks, like weirs, over which the bright water flashed and foamed right merrily. So, with a cry of joy, I bounded into the stream, and began rapidly to splash my way downwards, running with almost frantic haste, sometimes slipping and stumbling over the smooth slimy stones, sometimes floundering into a deepish pool, scaring the fish, which flew gleaming away, like wedges of burnished metal, to seek shelter under the ledges of rock, or amongst the twisted roots of trees upon the bank, among which the water frothed and gurgled.
‘My great and fervent benison be upon water,’ I cried to myself. ‘It hath ever been my home, and now is it my refuge and my safety. Thanks, thanks, good secret-keeping stream! Amid the merry music of thy murmur, thou wilt never prate the whereabouts of the poor flying mariner. Rush speedily on with me, fair and living waters, sweeping my track fast downwards to the sea!’
With such-like rhapsodies, I relieved the fulness of my heart, as I followed the stream, splashing down in its[Pg 256] very centre. Sometimes when a small waterfall interrupted its course, I had to scramble ashore and make a brief circuit, but I soon took to the water again. In about ten minutes after I had first entered the river, the bay of the bloodhound ceased to be heard; but I distinguished the sound of a clearly-blown horn or trumpet, and the report of one or two guns, as though one party were making signals to another. Still I pressed on, but more cautiously—watching the banks very narrowly, and at the places where the stream flowed silently, pausing to listen with all my ears. There was no alarm, and I began to grow very confident, when all at once it occurred to me, as I glanced at the point of the horizon to which the sun was now hastening, that I must be rapidly returning either to Carthagena, or to some point very near it, upon the coast, where, undoubtedly, this rivulet emptied itself into the sea. This consideration at once arrested my footsteps; and creeping among the roots of a tree, beneath an overhanging bank, I began to muse upon what was best to be done. I did not doubt but that my pursuers had fairly lost my traces, and that it would be a hard matter for them again to find the scent. Indeed I considered that I might very safely leave the water, and pursue my original westward route amongst the woods; but then I was unarmed, excepting my knife, and without even the means of lighting a fire how was I to live among the forests and the wildernesses which stretched backward from the coast? As I mused, a thought struck me. When first captured by the Spaniards, I had several double doubloons, and a few pieces of eight about me. This money I had been careful to preserve, and possessed it still, save one of the doubloons, which I had given to my jailer, as he bade me adieu. Why, then, thought I, should I not return to Carthagena as soon as the night falls, and endeavour to purchase fairly what I want? I speak Spanish sufficiently well. I am dressed like a Spanish sailor. Why should I not, by a circuitous path, reach the seaward part of the city, and making believe that I have landed from a vessel[Pg 257] in the bay, purchase what arms and ammunition I require, not forgetting some food, and so leaving the town again in the darkness, pursue my way westward? The more I thought of this scheme, the more feasible did it appear. To be sure, there was a risk of being taken, and perhaps hung; but if I plunged unarmed into the woods, I had at least the certainty of dying a lingering death by starvation, or of being murdered by the savages. Therefore, without much ado, I decided upon braving the immediate danger, and purchasing what I wanted in the town, from which I had so recently fled. With this design, I began again to wade slowly down the river, thinking to myself that if any one noticed the wet state of my garments, I might easily account for it, by saying that I had but just now landed in a small boat through the surf. My progress was of course but slow; and several huts being built upon the banks of the stream, I was obliged now and then to leave the water and take circuits round about, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the woods. I met, however, with no interruption; and so, in about the space of an hour and a half or thereby, I heard the sound of the surf. On gaining the coast I found it to consist of considerable sand-hills, with many small bays, and lines of breakers extending several cable-lengths from the shore. The weather being moderate, however, the surf was not violent. My first act was to creep to the top of one of the highest sand-hills, and look anxiously to seaward. There were the sails of one or two fishing-boats, and as many coasting craft of small burden in sight, but nothing like our schooner; so I descended and began to move to the eastward. Before I had taken many steps, however, I recollected that Carthagena was fortified at its seaward extremities, and I asked myself whether I could safely attempt to pass through the line of defences. The countersign I knew, but it might have been changed since my escape, or perhaps it only applied to the guard of the alcaide’s house. While I was thus debating the matter with myself, I suddenly saw floating in the shallow water near the mouth of the small river a[Pg 258] small boat or canoe, bottom upward, and, running hastily towards her, found her to be no other than the negro fisherman’s canoe, which we had upset the night of our unfortunate reconnoitring expedition. I straightway determined to turn this piece of luck to account, and, instead of proceeding by land, to paddle round and disembark in any quiet corner of the bay. On righting the canoe, I found she was but little damaged, and the paddles having been secured by pieces of spun yarn, as is usual in the boats of fishermen, were both ready for use. Therefore, without more ado, I got into the boat and pulled her off to sea. There were not less than three bars formed by the sea at the mouth of the stream, and the breakers burst white upon them all. However, by watching my time, and carefully attending to the run of the seas, I got over the inner two very easily. On the outward bank the surf broke heavier, and once or twice I expected to have had to swim for it. However, I had better luck, the canoe was very lively, and danced like a cork on the broken seas, so that at length I fairly made the smooth swell, with a boat, however, half full of water. After baling her out I began slowly to paddle eastward, the boat being impelled by the dying powers of the sea breeze, and presently, just as the sun was dipping, I opened the bay of Carthagena, and seeing an old slimy wooden jetty, only used apparently by a few fishermen, I made for it. Truly, says that brave man, (and also as brave a penman,) whom afterwards I well knew, William Dampier, ‘Carthagena is a fair city open to the sea.’ The level beams of the setting sun glowed upon the heaving water, and upon the great Spanish ships, lying like piled castles, with high forecastles and carved and galleried poops, slowly rocking to the solemn moving seas; and shorewards, upon the bright line of gaily-painted houses, with verandahs and balconies all fluttering with tinted draperies; and the pinnacles of churches and convents, from whence the evening bells came pealing out into the rich glowing air. One or two small fishing-craft were slowly making for the beach, and a canoe or two[Pg 259] would now and then glide between the shipping and the shore; but to my great comfort no one seemed to pay the slightest attention to my humble self. Therefore, I made fast the canoe to the jetty whereof I spoke, and which was all hung with nets put there to dry, and walked, the more boldly as it was now grey dusk, into the city, looking for some shop or store where I might be served with the articles which I needed. The traders and merchants were now beginning to close their warehouses, and so it behoved me quickly to find a suitable shop. The streets in which I wandered being very narrow and high, were all but dark; lights gleamed out of the houses, shadowy figures moved upon balconies, and grave men with long cloaks stood by doorways, talking in their sonorous tongue, and smoking great pipes of tobacco. Still no one took notice of me, and I was the more assured, inasmuch as I saw around me many seamen dressed as I was myself, one or two of whom hailed me ‘comrade,’ and would have taken me to be treated at the Posada. I moved, however, with a quick stealthy step, keeping my eyes warily abroad, and at length, in a small street or lane, found a low-roofed shop, or rather stall, quite open to the thoroughfare, in which, in the middle of a collection of fire-arms, and steel weapons of many kinds, sat an old, hook-nosed, grey-headed man, with a very dirty face and great iron spectacles, drinking a bowl of savoury cocoa, and at the same time dictating to a little lad, dressed in a thread-bare fashion, some bills of charges which the boy was writing in a great greasy account-book, by the light of a single candle, which flared and flickered in the open shop. The old merchant I concluded to be a Jew, and judged that so long as I paid a good price for what I wanted, I would be asked no questions which it might be inconvenient to answer. I, therefore, entered the shop, and was about to speak, when the Jew, who had not perceived me, suddenly raised his voice, and, addressing some one whom I had not seen by reason of a pillar which supported the roof of the shop, said—
[Pg 260]
‘Not a pistole—not a maravedi! Father of Abraham! I think it is a robber thou art. Here be your last bills of exchange, for which I advanced thee money, returned dishonoured by the goldsmith at Cadiz. Go thy ways—go thy ways; thou shalt have no gold here!’
Upon this discouraging address, a man in military attire rose grumbling from a chest upon which he had been sitting, and at the same time making as though he would draw his weapon on the merchant. But the latter seemed little to heed this motion.
‘Take thy lantern, Moses,’ he said to the boy, ‘and light out this honourable cavalier, who hath found at last that impertinent importunity doth not always unbutton a man’s pouches.’
The lad stepped with his light towards the spot where I stood, and the would-be borrower following him, still muttering and threatening the Jew with all sorts of vengeance as an unbelieving hound, who would trample on the holy Cross—the latter cried out, ‘Hold up thy lamp, Moses, and give the cavalier light enough to swear by.’
The boy waved his lantern with a grin, and the light flashing on the soldier, I recognised in an instant the flushed and gross features of the Captain Guzman, noways improved in expression by the little scene in which he had no doubt been an actor. The recognition was, unfortunately, mutual, for just as I recoiled back into the shadow so as to allow him to pass, he roared out—
‘Holy mother! the English dog of a pirate, who escaped to-day, after half-throttling the alcaide’s clerk!’ And with these words, he pounced upon me; but I was prepared, and striking him a blow in the face, which, I hope, showed him every star in heaven, and a few additional ones besides, dancing before his eyes, I closed on him, and hurled him back into the shop, upsetting the Jew boy with a crash over a pile of casks and bales, and immediately extinguishing the light. Having paid this last attention to my friend, who was so sure that I would come to the[Pg 261] gallows with all speed, I took to my heels incontinently, running at random. But Guzman, although overthrown, was not stunned, and continued to bawl out clamorously, to catch, or shoot, or stab the English pirate. The alarm was very quickly taken up, and the whole street was in a commotion. However, as every one was running about in the dusk, which already approached to darkness, as well as myself, and as I shouted to secure the English cutthroat as lustily as ever a Spaniard of them all, I was more inclined to laugh than to be much alarmed at my mischance, when a pestilent fellow, who had run out of a house in his shirt-sleeves, grasped me by the arm, and earnestly besought me to tell him where the heretic was. I replied that I had seen the rascal running down a certain lane, to which I pointed, when the man, turning short round upon me, and having most likely a good ear for his own language, asked me, very abruptly, from what part of Spain I came. For all reply, I made an effort, shook him clean off, and darted away. But the fellow was as nimble as I was; he was at my heels in a trice, shouting at the same time at the top of his voice, and pointing me out to others as we ran. We had a hard race of it. Half-a-dozen times I was grappled by willing hands, but my impetus in running enabled me again and again to burst away, while, to distract attention, I shouted and pointed ahead just as did my pursuers. All this, the reader must conceive, passed with breathless rapidity. It was a confused scene—narrow, gloomy streets, all sparkling with lights as people rushed to doors and balconies, and echoing to the clamour of voices and the tramp of footsteps, as the shouting crowd ran wildly, jostling and tripping each other, and many of them swearing that the English pirates had returned to the attack, and that there was nothing but pillage and murder for Carthagena. Howbeit, in the midst of all this confusion, I could not but be sensible that the man in the shirt-sleeves and his original comrades had not lost sight of me for an instant. Therefore I put forth my utmost speed; plunged from street to street and lane to[Pg 262] lane, fearing every moment that I would run into what the French call a cul-de-sac; and, indeed, at length, as I emerged from a confused cluster of narrow, winding streets into a more open way lined with high walls, along which I ran, almost spent with toil, and panting for breath, I heard a great shout of triumph behind me, as though I was at length trapped, and looking narrowly ahead, I saw a high wall with iron trellis-work at the top, and over which ran the branches of trees, barring all passage. I was close to the obstacle before I saw it in the dusk, and at the same instant I became sensible of a small wicket-door, which, before I had time to think, opened, and the forms of two ladies, dressed in black, veiled and hooded, with lace and silk capes, stood before me.
Hardly knowing what I did, I flung myself on my knees upon the ground. They started back, and the younger, as I judged, uttered a slight scream.
‘Ladies,’ I gasped out, ‘I am an unfortunate Scots sailor; your countrymen pursue me to kill me. Gentle ladies, save my life!’
Just as I said this the footsteps of the Spaniards echoed between the high walls.
‘Where is the English rascal?’ they cried; ‘he shall die the death!’
After a single whispered word, hastily passed between them, one of the ladies bent towards me, started back, came forwards again, and said in my ear, in a timid, fluttering voice:
‘Rise, young man; and pass in.’
I sprang up and rushed through the wicket, which the ladies closed again from the outside; then, couching breathlessly by the door, I listened. In a moment I heard the gruff voices of my pursuers, evidently asking the ladies whether they had seen me. What answer was returned I could only guess at, from hearing the disappointed exclamations and the retiring footsteps of the Spaniards. Then I fell upon my knees, and called God to bless the kind hearts which had saved a flying man[Pg 263] from his deadly foes. I was in a garden. The high wall seemed to shut out the clamour of my pursuers, which had, however, doubtless, died away, as the search seemed to be unsuccessful. Around me were rich trees and shrubs, and gaudy flowers. Fresh from the tumult of a street scuffle, how peaceful a spot it seemed! The fireflies shot amid the bushes like sparks from anvils. The hum of the wings of night insects sounded like the low breathing of Nature sleeping. The cooling dews fell balm-like upon my hot, wet forehead. I sank back, leaning against the wall, exhausted and utterly worn by the excitement, the pain, and the great fatigue of the day. I felt, even before I had been ten minutes couched amid the sweet smelling and clustering shrubs, a sweet lethargy come over me, and stretching my overwrought limbs among the herbage, I fairly fell into a deep, calm sleep.