“We must go, Seсor,” he announced loudly. “The way is long.” He led Ysobel to the white mare and helped her into the saddle. Then, at his signal, the column moved off down the street. Ysobel looked back once as they started, and it seemed that she had taken a mood from Henry Morgan, for there was a puzzled smile on her lips. But then she bent her head over the mare’s neck; she was intently studying the mare’s white mane.
The messenger had remained standing at Henry’s side in the doorway. Together they watched the fluid line of riders swing away while the sunlight glinted on the soldiers’ armor. In the center of the troupe, the white mare seemed a pearl in a setting of silver.
The messenger put his hand on Henry’s shoulder.
“We know how to understand each other, we men of responsibilities,” he said drunkenly. “It is not as though we were children to have secrets. We are men, brave men and strong. We may confide in each other. You may tell me the thing nearest your heart if you wish, Seсor.”
Henry shook the hand from his shoulder. “I have nothing to tell you,” he said brusquely.
“Ah; but then I will tell you something. Perhaps you wondered why the husband of this woman was willing to pay such a vast sum for her. She is only a woman, you say. There are many women to be had more cheaply-some for a real or two. Her husband is a fool, you say. But I would not have you think that of my master. He is no fool. I will tell you how it is. Her grandfather still lives, and he is the owner of ten silver mines and fifty leagues of fertile land in Peru. Doсa Ysobel is the heiress. Now if she were killed or carried off-But you understand, Seсor-Poof! The fortune into the King’s arms!” He laughed at the cleverness of his reasoning. “We understand each other, Seсor. We have tough skulls-not the soft heads of chickens. Twenty thousand-it is nothing to be reckoned against ten silver mines. Ah, yes; we understand each other, we men of responsibilities.”
He clambered into his saddle and rode away still laughing.
Henry Morgan saw him join the undulating cavalcade; and now there was a ruby with the pearl in the silver setting.
Captain Morgan went back to the treasure. He sat on the floor and took the coins into his hands. “The most human of all human traits is inconsistency,” he thought. “it is a shock to learn this thing, almost as great a shock to a man as the realization of his humanity. And why must we learn that last? In all the mad incongruity, the turgid stultiloquy of life, I felt, at least, securely anchored to myself. Whatever the vacillations of other people, I thought myself terrifically constant. But now, here I am, dragging a frayed line, and my anchor gone. I do not know whether the rope was cut or merely worn away, but my anchor is gone. And I am sailing around and around an island in which there is no iron.” He let the gold pieces slip through his fingers. “But perhaps here is my iron for the making of a new anchor,” he thought. “This is hard and heavy. Its value may fluctuate somewhat in the economic currents, but at least it has a purpose, and only one purpose. It is an absolute assurance of security. Yes, perhaps this is the one true anchor; the one thing a man may be utterly sure of. Its claws hook tightly to comfort and security. Strangely, I have a craving for them both.”
“But other men have a share in this gold,” part of his brain argued.
“No, my dear conscience; we have an end of acting now. I have put on new glasses; rather they have been locked about my head, and I must order my life in accordance with the world I see through these new lenses. I see that honesty-public honesty-may be a ladder to a higher, more valuable crime; veracity a means to more subtle dissimulation.
No; these men have no rights they can enforce. These men were too free with the rights of others to deserve consideration.” He stumbled happily on the thought. “They steal, and so shall their plunder be stolen.
“But I said I was finished with evasions and conscience drugging. What have I to do with right, now-or reason, or logic, or conscience? I want this money. I want security and comfort, and I have the power between my hands to take both. It may not be the ideal of youth, but I think it has been the world’s practice from the beginning. Luckily, perhaps, the world is not operated by youth. And besides,” he said, “these fools of men do not deserve any of it. They would be throwing it away in the brothels when we came home again.”
The buccaneers went out of ruined Panama. They carried all of the treasure with them across the isthmus on the backs of mules. When at last Chagres was reached, they were exhausted; nevertheless, the following day was set for the division of spoils. In order that this might be facilitated, the whole of the treasure was stored in one ship, the great galleon which had been commanded by a Duke before the pirates captured it. From this center the plunder was to be divided. Captain Morgan was in good spirits.
The journey was over, he told the men, and it was time for pleasure. He rolled out forty kegs of rum onto the beach.
Early in the morning, a sleepy pirate opened his red eyes and looked toward the sea. He saw the water where the galleon had been. He called his comrades, and in a moment the shore was lined with disappointed men who wistfully searched the horizon. The galleon had put to sea during the night, and all the wealth of Panama had gone with her.
There was rage among the buccaneers. They would give chase; they would run down the fugitive and torture Captain Morgan. But they could not pursue. The other ships were worthless. Some lay on the sandy bottom with great holes punched in their sides; of others, the masts were sawed nearly through.
Then there was cursing and violence on the beach. They swore brotherhood in the name of revenge.
They planned the horror of the retribution. And they scattered. Some starved; some were tortured by the Indians. The Spaniards caught and strangled some of them, and England virtuously hanged a few.
CHAPTER V
AMULTIFARIOUS population was crowded on the beach at Port Royal. They had come to see the Captain Morgan who had plundered Panama. Great ladies, dressed in the silken stuffs of China, were there because, after all, Henry Morgan came of a good family-the nephew of the poor dear Lieutenant-Governor who was killed. Sailors were there because he was a sailor; little boys because he was a pirate; young girls because he was a hero; business men because he was rich; gangs of slaves because they had a holiday. There were prostitutes with berry juice squeezed on their lips, and with restless eyes searching the faces of unaccompanied men; and there were girl children whose hearts mothered the sacred little hope that the great man might just possibly look in their direction and find the understanding he must crave.
In the crowd were sailors whose pride lay in the fact that they had heard Captain Morgan curse; tailors who had fitted breeches to his legs. Each man who had seen Henry Morgan and had heard him speak, collected a group of admirers. These lucky ones had taken a bit of greatness from the contact.
The Negro slaves, freed from their field work on this day of interest and rejoicing, gazed with huge, vacuous eyes at the galleon riding in the harbor. Plantation owners strode about among the people, talking loudly of what they would say to Henry Morgan when they had him out to dinner, and what they would advise him. They spoke lightly and carelessly of him, as though it were their constant practice to entertain plunderers of Panama. Certain tavern keepers had broached casks of wine on the beach from which they gave freely to all who asked. Their gain would come later, with the thirst they only whetted.
On a small pier waited the party of the Governor; handsome young men in laces and silver buckles, with a squad of pikemen to give them an official appearance. The sea fanned delicate, unbreaking waves on the beach. It was late morning, and the sun a glaring crucible in the sky, but no one felt the heat; the people had eyes and feelings for nothing but the tall galleon riding in the harbor.
Noonhad come when Henry Morgan, who had been watching the beach through a glass, decided to enter the city. His stagecraft was not merely vanity. In the night a small boat had come alongside with the news that he might be arrested for fighting the enemies of the King.
Henry thought the approval of the people would weigh in his favor. All morning he had watched the approval grow as the crowd became more and more excited.
But now his long boat was lowered and the sailors took their places. As it approached the shore, the gathered mob broke into yells, and then a concerted roaring cheer. The people threw their hats, leaped, danced, grimaced, tried to shriek conversation at one another. At the pier, hands were extended to grasp Henry’s before he was out of the boat. And immediately he had stepped up, the pikemen formed about the official party and with weapons lowered forced a rough passage among the fighting, craning spectators.
Henry glanced with apprehension at the soldiers who surrounded him. “Am I under arrest?” he asked of the cavalier who walked beside him.
“Under arrest!” The man laughed. “No! We couldn’t arrest you if we would. The mob would tear us to pieces. And if we did succeed in the arrest, they would rip out the stones of the jail with their fingers to free you. You do not realize what you are to these people, sir. For days they have talked of nothing save your coming. But the Governor wants to see you immediately, sir. He couldn’t come here himself for obvious reasons.”
They arrived at the mansion of the Governor.
“Captain Morgan,” said Governor Moddyford, when they were alone, “I don’t know whether my news is good or bad. Word of your conquest has come to the ears of the King. Both of us are ordered to England.”
“But I had a commission-” Henry began.
The fat head and shoulders of the Governor shook a sad negative. “Now I wouldn’t mention the commission, Captain, if I were you, even though I myself did issue it. There are clauses in your commission which might get us both criticized. As it is, we may be hanged: but I don’t know-I don’t know. Of course, there is peace between Spain and England-but no good feeling, none at all. The King is angry with us, but I think a few thousand pounds distributed in the right quarters might placate him were he mad with rage. The English people is filled with joy over the conquest. Don’t worry about it, Captain; certainly I do not.” He looked keenly into Henry’s eyes. “I hope, sir, that you can spare those few thousands when the time comes.”
Said Henry, officially, “I have tried to serve the spirit of my sovereign’s wish, not the outward play of his politics.” And then, “Surely, Sir Charles; I have enough to buy the King’s favor though it cost half a million. They say the King is a good man and a judge of fine women, and I never knew one such not to need money.”
“There is another thing, Captain,” said the Governor uneasily. “Your uncle was killed some time ago. His daughter is here in my house. Sir Edward was nearly penniless when he died. Of course, you understand, we would like to have her stay here with us always, but I do not think she is quite happy. I think she chafes under what she thinks is charity. You will look to her welfare, of course. Sir Edward died nobly and was commended by the King, but after all the commendation of the Crown cannot be spent.”
Henry smiled. “My uncle would have died nobly. I am sure this uncle of mine made every move in his life-yes, even to the paring of his nails-as though the complete peerage were looking on, ready to make critical comments.
How did he die? Making a short, fitting oration? Or with the damned thin lips of him pressed together as though he disapproved of death for social reasons? Ah, that man! His life was a fine, simple part, and he was very true to it.” Henry spoke laughingly. “I hated my uncle. I think he frightened me. He was one of the few people I feared. But tell me how he died.”
“It is whispered that he groaned once. I traced the rumor and found that some servant had been hiding behind a curtain. He doubtless told of it.”
“Too bad! Too bad! What a cruel shame it is to ruin a perfect life with an exhalation. But now I am not afraid of him any more. If he groaned there was humanity in him, and weakness. I despise him, but I love him for it. As to my cousin, I shall take her off your hands, you may be sure. I dimly remember her as a tall little girl with yellow hair-a little girl who played abominably on the harp; at least it sounded abominable to me, though it may have been quite good.”
Moddyford came to a subject he had been wanting to broach.
“I have heard that you met the Red Saint in Panama and released her for a ransom. How did that happen? She was said to be the pearl of the earth.”
Henry reddened.
“Oh, well,” he said, “it seemed to me that the legend flattered her. She was nice looking, surely; and I don’t say some men would not have been struck with her. But she was not the kind of woman I admire for myself. She was rather free in her speech, you know-spoke of things unfeminine, in my opinion.
Besides, she rode horses astride, and fenced. In short, she was without that modesty we have come to look for in well-bred women.”
“But as a mistress-Surely, as a mistress?”
“Well, you see, I received seventy-five thousand pieces of eight for her. To my mind that is worth more than any woman who was ever born.”
“That much ransom? How did she happen to bring so much?”
“Why, on investigation, I found that she was an heiress. And as I say, she was nice looking, but still-the legend flattered her.”
Meanwhile, in another room Lady Moddyford was earnestly talking to Elizabeth.
“I find I must speak to you as a mother, my dear, a mother who is looking to your future. There is absolutely no doubt that your cousin will look out for you; but would you be happy that way? — just hanging to his purse-strings, I mean? Look at him in another light. He is rich, well-favored. You understand, my dear, that it is impossible to be delicate about this, and I do not know that it would be desirable even if it were possible. Why don’t you marry your cousin? If nothing else came of it, you would be the one woman on earth who could not criticize her husband’s relatives.”
“But what are you suggesting, Lady Moddyford?” Elizabeth put in meekly. “Isn’t it some kind of crime to marry one’s Cousin?”
“Not a bit of it, my dear. There is nothing in church or state to forbid it, and I, myself, would favor such a marriage.
Sir Charles and your cousin have been ordered to England. Sir Charles thinks a knighthood might be arranged.
Then you would be Lady Morgan, and you would be rich.”
Elizabethmused: “I only saw him once, for a moment, and then I don’t think I quite liked him. He was excited and red. But he was very respectful and gentle. I think he wanted to be friends with me, but my father-you know how Papa was. Perhaps he would make a good husband,” she said.
“My dear, any man makes a good husband if he is properly looked after.”
“Yes, it might be the best way out. I am tired of being pitied for my poverty. But with this new popularity, do you think he would notice me? He might be too proud to marry a penniless cousin.”
“Dear Elizabeth,” Lady Moddyford said firmly, “don’t you know by now that almost any woman can marry almost any man as long as some other woman doesn’t interfere? And I shall arrange matters so that no one will get in your way. You may trust me for that.”
Elizabethhad made up her mind. “I know; I shall play for him. I have heard how music affects these fierce men. I shall play him my new pieces-‘The Elves’ Concourse,’ and ‘God Bears the Weary Soul to Rest.’ “
“No,” broke in Lady Moddyford. “No, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He might not like fine music.
There are better ways.”
“But you said those pieces were very pretty; you said it yourself. And haven’t I read how music soothes men until they can hardly bear it?”
“Very well, my dear; play for him, then, if you will. Perhaps he-But play for him. Such things may run in the family-the love of music, I mean. Of course, you know, you must admire him and at the same time be a little afraid of him. Make him feel that you are a poor, helpless little creature completely hemmed in with tigers. But you must arrange it in your own way. You have a good start, for you may appeal to hi
m for protection from the beginning.”
She sighed, “I don’t know what we should do without protection. I don’t know when Sir Charles would have proposed to me. The dear was frightened out of his life to begin. One afternoon we sat on a bench and I positively searched the landscape for something to frighten me. We must have been there three hours before a little water-snake ambled along the path and terrified me into his arms. No, I can’t think what we should do without protection. Sir Charles has a man in the garden all the time looking for snakes. And do you know, I have always liked snakes. I had three of them for pets when I was a little girl.”
The next morning Lady Moddyford brought them together, and, as soon as she gracefully could, left them alone.
Elizabethlooked fearfully at her cousin.
“You have done great, terrible things on the ocean, Captain Morgan-enough to freeze one thinking about them,” she said falteringly.
“The deeds were not great, nor very dreadful. Nothing is as good or as bad as the telling of it.”
And he thought, “I was wrong about her-very wrong. She is not supercilious at all. It must have been her father-the devil-who gave me a wrong impression of her. She is quite nice.”
“I am sure yours were great, if your modesty would let you admit it,” she was saying demurely. “Do you know, I used to tremble at the tales they told of you, and hope that you were not in need or trouble.”
“Did you? Why did you? I didn’t think you ever noticed me.”
Her eyes had filled with tears. “I have had trouble, too.”
“I know. They told me about your trouble, and I was sorry for you, little cousin Elizabeth. I hope you will let me help you in your trouble. Won’t you sit here beside me, Elizabeth?”
She looked shyly at him. “I’ll play for you, if you like,” she said.
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