"Alas, Señor," says he, "I know yon ship by her looks—aye, and so doth the Señorita—see yonder!" Now glancing whither he pointed, I beheld Joanna pacing daintily along the reef, pausing ever and anon to signal with her arm; then, as the ship went about to bear up towards the reef, from her crowded decks rose a great shouting and halloo, a hoarse clamour drowned all at once in the roar of great guns, and up to the main fluttered a black ancient; and beholding this accursed flag, its grisly skull and bones, I cast me down on the sands, my high hopes and fond expectations 'whelmed in a great despair.
But as I lay thus was a gentle touch on my bowed head and in my ear Don
Federigo's voice:
"Alas, good my friend, and doth Hope die for you likewise? Then do I grieve indeed. But despair not, for in the cave yonder be two swords; go fetch them, I pray, for I am over-weak."
"Of what avail," cried I bitterly, looking up into the pale serenity of his face, "of what avail two swords 'gainst a ship's company?"
"We can die, Señor!" said he, with his gentle smile. "To die on our own steel, by our own hands—here—is clean death and honourable."
"True!" said I.
"Then I pray go fetch the swords, my friend; 'tis time methinks—look!" Glancing towards the ship, I saw she was already come to an anchor and a boatful of men pulling briskly for the reef where stood Joanna, and as they rowed they cheered her amain:
"La Culebra!" they roared. "Ahoy, Joanna! Give a rouse for Fighting Jo!
Cap'n Jo—ha, Joanna!"
The boat being near enough, many eager hands were reached out to her and with Joanna on board they paddled into the lagoon. Now as they drew in to Deliverance Beach they fell silent all, hearkening to her words, and I saw her point them suddenly to Skeleton Cove, whereupon they rowed amain towards that spit of sand where we stood screened among the rocks, shouting in fierce exultation as they came. Don Federigo sank upon his knees with head bowed reverently above his little crucifix, and when at last he looked up his face showed placid as ever.
"Señor," quoth he gently, "you do hear them howling for my blood? Well, you bear a knife in your girdle—I pray you lend it to me." For a moment I hesitated, then, drawing the weapon forth, I sent it spinning far out to sea.
"Sir," said I, "we English do hold that whiles life is—so is hope.
Howbeit, if you die you shall not die alone, this I swear."
Then I sprang forth of the rocks and strode down where these lawless fellows were beaching their boat.
CHAPTER IX
WE FALL AMONG PIRATES
At my sudden coming they fell silent, one and all, staring from me to Joanna, where she stood beside a buxom, swaggering ruffling fellow whose moustachios and beard were cut after the Spanish mode but with a monstrous great periwig on his head surmounted by a gold-braided, looped hat. His coat was of scarlet velvet, brave with much adornment of gold lace; his legs were thrust into a pair of rough sea-boots; and on his hip a long, curved hanger very broad in the blade.
"'S fish!" said he, looking me over with his sleepy eyes. "Is this your
Englishman, Jo? And what must we do wi' him—shall he hang?"
"Mayhap yes—when 'tis so my whim," answered she, 'twixt smiling lips and staring me in the eyes.
But now, and all at once, from the wild company rose a sudden hoarse murmur that swelled again to that fierce, exultant uproar as down towards us paced Don Federigo.
"Aha, 'tis the Marquis!" they cried. "'Tis the bloody Marquis! Shoot the dog! Nay, hang him up! Aye, by his thumbs. Nay, burn him—to the fire wi' the bloody rogue!"
Unheeding their vengeful outcry he advanced upon the men (and these ravening for his blood), viewing their lowering faces and brandished steel with his calm, dispassionate gaze and very proud and upright for all his bodily weakness; pausing beside me, he threw up his hand with haughty gesture and before the command of this ragged arm they abated their clamour somewhat.
"Of a surety," said he in his precise English, "it is the Capitan Belvedere. You captured my daughter—my son—in the Margarita carrack three years agone. 'Tis said he died at your hands, Señor Capitan—"
"Not mine, Don, not mine," answered this Belvedere, smiling sleepily. "We gave him to Black Pompey to carbonado." I felt Don Federigo's hand against me as if suddenly faint, but his wide-eyed gaze never left the Captain's handsome face, who, aware of this look, shifted his own gaze, cocked his hat and swaggered. "Stare your fill, now," quoth he with an oath, "'tis little enough you'll be seeing presently. Aye, you'll be blind enough soon—"
"Blind is it, Cap'n—ha, good!" cried a squat, ill-looking fellow, whipping out a long knife. "Hung my comrade Jem, a did, so here's a knife shall blind him when ye will, Cap'n, by hookey!" And now he and his fellows began to crowd upon us with evil looks; but they halted suddenly, fumbling with their weapons and eyeing Joanna uncertainly where she stood, hand on hip, viewing them with her fleering smile.
"Die he shall, yes!" said she at last. "Die he must, but in proper fashion and time, not by such vermin as you—so put up that knife! You hear me, yes?"
"Hanged my comrade Jem, a did, along o' many others o' the Fellowship!" growled the squat man, flourishing his knife, "Moreover the Cap'n says 'blind' says he, so blind it is, says I, and this the knife to—" The growling voice was drowned in the roar of a pistol and, dropping his knife, the fellow screamed and caught at his hurt.
"And there's for you, yes!" said Joanna, smiling into the man's agonised face, "Be thankful I spared your worthless life. Crawl into the boat, worm, and wait till I'm minded to patch up your hurt—Go!"
For a moment was silence, then came a great gust of laughter, and men clapped and pummelled each other.
"La Culebra!" they roared. "'Tis our Jo, 'tis Fighting Jo, sure and sartain; 'tis our luck, the luck o' the Brotherhood—ha, Joanna!"
But, tossing aside the smoking pistol, Joanna scowled from them to their captain.
"Hola, Belvedere," said she. "Your dogs do grow out of hand; 'tis well I'm back again. Now for these my prisoners, seize 'em up, bind 'em fast and heave 'em aboard ship."
"Aye, but," said Belvedere, fingering his beard, "why aboard, Jo, when we may do their business here and prettily. Yon's a tree shall make notable good gallows or—look now, here's right plenty o' kindling, and driftwood shall burn 'em merrily and 'twill better please the lads—"
"But then I do pleasure myself, yes. So aboard ship they go!"
"Why, look now, Jo," said Belvedere, biting at his thumb, "'tis ever my rule to keep no prisoners—"
"Save women, Cap'n!" cried a voice, drowned in sudden evil laughter.
"So, as I say, Joanna, these prisoners cannot go aboard my ship."
"Your ship?" said she, mighty scornful. "Ah, ah, but 'twas I made you captain of your ship and 'tis I can unmake you—"
"Why look ye, Jo," said Belvedere, gnawing at his thumb more savagely and glancing towards his chafing company, "the good lads be growing impatient, being all heartily for ending these prisoners according to custom—"
"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" cried divers of the men, beginning to crowd upon us again. "To the fire with 'em! Nay, send aboard for Black Pompey! Aye, Pompey's the lad to set 'em dancing Indian fashion—"
"You hear, Jo, you hear?" cried Belvedere. "The lads are for ending of 'em sportive