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Read Ebook: Sir Henry Morgan Buccaneer: A Romance of the Spanish Main by Brady Cyrus Townsend Crawford Will Illustrator Marchand J N Illustrator
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Ebook has 1628 lines and 85337 words, and 33 pages
HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN.
THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS.
WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS.
IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY.
HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY.
IN WHICH THE CAREER OF SIR HENRY MORGAN IS ENDED ON ISLA DE LA TORTUGA, TO THE GREAT DELECTATION OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, HIS SOMETIME FRIEND.
BY J.N. MARCHAND
PAGE
With the point of his own sword pressed against the back of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had given him 41
Their blades crossed in an instant ... There was a roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell 89
Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand and shot the man dead 139
Alvarado threw his right arm around her, and with a force superhuman dragged her from the saddle 215
The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped over he scanned it with his one eye 269
... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed 333
... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer, and there rolled before him the severed head of ... his solitary friend 413
Hell had no terror like to this, which he, living, suffered 441
BY WILL CRAWFORD
PAGE
"To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley" 25
There was one man ... who did not join in the singing 45
Carlingford had risen in his boat ... and with dauntless courage he shook his bared sword 81
The high poop and rail of the Spaniard was black with iron-capped men 115
"Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain 128
"Are you in a state for a return journey at once, se?or?" he asked of the young officer 161
"The fault is mine," said Alvarado 174
Early as it was, the Viceroy and his officers ... bid the travelers Godspeed 200
During the intervals of repose the young man allowed his party, the two lovers were constantly together 218
But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could make a move, Morgan stepped safely on the sand 241
"Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not!" 265
"What would you do for him?" "My life for his," she answered bravely 283
"Hast another weapon in thy bodice?" 321
Quite the best of the pirates, he! 347
"Treachery? My lord, his was the first" 370
"God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the poniard, "I cannot" 387
"I wanted to let you know there was water here.... There is not enough for both of us. Who will get it? I; look!" 437
"Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!" He waded out into the water ... 445
BOOK I
HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN
WHEREIN SIR HENRY MORGAN MADE GOOD USE OF THE TEN MINUTES ALLOWED HIM
Yet, to the casual inspection, little or nothing appeared to be lacking to entitle him to all the consideration attendant upon that ancient degree. His attire, for instance, might be a year or two behind the fashion of England and still further away from that of France, then, as now, the standard maker in dress, yet it represented the extreme of the mode in His Majesty's fair island of Jamaica. That it was a trifle too vivid in its colors, and too striking in its contrasts for the best taste at home, possibly might be condoned by the richness of the material used and the prodigality of trimming which decorated it. Silk and satin from the Orient, lace from Flanders, leather from Spain, with jewels from everywhere, marked him as a person entitled to some consideration, at least. Even more compulsory of attention, if not of respect, were his haughty, overbearing, satisfied manner, his look of command, the expression of authority in action he bore.
But it was his face which attested the acuteness of the sneering observation of the unworthy giver of the royal accolade. No gentleman ever bore face like that. Framed in long, thin, gray curls which fell upon his shoulders after the fashion of the time, it was as cruel, as evil, as sensuous, as ruthless, as powerful an old face as had ever looked over a bulwark at a sinking ship, or viewed with indifference the ravaging of a devoted town. Courage there was, capacity in large measure, but not one trace of human kindness. Thin, lean, hawk-like, ruthless, cunning, weather-beaten, it was sadly out of place in its brave attire in that vaulted chamber. It was the face of a man who ruled by terror; who commanded by might. It was the face of an adventurer, too, one never sure of his position, but always ready to fight for it, and able to fight well. There was a watchful, alert, inquiring look in the fierce blue eyes, an intent, expectant expression in the craggy countenance, that told of the uncertainties of his assumptions; yet the lack of assurance was compensated for by the firm, resolute line of the mouth under the trifling upturned mustache, with its lips at the same time thin and sensual. To be fat and sensual is to appear to mitigate the latter evil with at least a pretence at good humor; to be thin and sensual is to be a devil. This man was evil, not with the grossness of a debauchee but with the thinness of the devotee. And he was an old man, too. Sixty odd years of vicious life, glossed over in the last two decades by an assumption of respectability, had swept over the gray hairs, which evoked no reverence.
There was a heavy frown on his face on that summer evening in the year of our Lord, 1685. The childless wife whom he had taken for his betterment and her worsening, some ten years since--in succession to Satan only knew how many nameless, unrecognized precursors--had died a few moments before, in the chamber above his head. Fairly bought from a needy father, she had been a cloak to lend him a certain respectability when he settled down, red with the blood of thousands whom he had slain and rich with the treasure of cities that he had wasted, to enjoy the evening of his life. Like all who are used for such purposes, she knew, after a little space, the man over whom the mantle of her reputation had been flung. She had rejoiced at the near approach of that death for which she had been longing almost since her wedding day. That she had shrunk from him in the very articles of dissolution when he stood by her bedside, indicated the character of the relationship.
However, everybody else on the island had welcomed him with joy, for of all men who had ever held office in Jamaica Sir Henry Morgan, sometime the chief devil of those nefarious bands who disguised their piracy under the specious title of buccaneering, was the most detested. But because of the fortunate demise of Lady Morgan, as it turned out, Sir Henry was not present to greet My Lord Carlingford, who was to supersede him--and more.
The deep potations the old buccaneer had indulged in to all outward intent passed harmlessly down his lean and craggy throat. He drank alone--the more solitary the drinker the more dangerous the man--yet the room had another occupant, a tall, brawny, brown-hued, grim-faced savage, whose gaudy livery ill accorded with his stern and ruthless visage. He stood by the Vice-Governor, watchful, attentive, and silent, imperturbably filling again and again the goblet from which he drank.
"More rum," said the master, at last breaking the silence while lifting his tall glass toward the man. "Scuttle me, Black Dog," he added, smiling sardonically at the silent maroon who poured again with steady hand, "you are the only soul on this island who doesn't fear me. That woman above yonder, curse her, shuddered away from me as I looked at her dying. But your hand is steady. You and old Ben Hornigold are the only ones who don't shrink back, hey, Carib? Is it love or hate?" he mused, as the man made no answer. "More," he cried, again lifting the glass which he had instantly drained.
But the maroon, instead of pouring, bent his head toward the window, listened a moment, and then turned and lifted a warning hand. The soft breeze of the evening, laden with the fragrance of the tropics, swept up from the river and wafted to the Vice-Governor's ears the sound of hoof beats on the hard, dry road. With senses keenly alert, he, also, listened. There were a number of them, a troop possibly. They were drawing nearer; they were coming toward his house, the slimmer house near Spanish Town, far up on the mountain side, where he sought relief from the enervating heats of the lower land.
"Horsemen!" he cried. "Coming to the house! Many of them! Ah, they dismount. Go to the door, Carib."
But before the maroon could obey they heard steps on the porch. Some one entered the hall. The door of the drawing-room was abruptly thrown open, and two men in the uniform of the English army, with the distinguishing marks of the Governor's Guard at Jamaica, unceremoniously entered the room. They were fully armed. One of them, the second, had drawn his sword and held a cocked pistol in the other hand. The first, whose weapons were still in their sheaths, carried a long official paper with a portentous seal dangling from it. Both were booted and spurred and dusty from riding, and both, contrary to the custom and etiquette of the island, kept their plumed hats on their heads.
As he spoke, the Governor rose to his feet and stood by the table, his right hand unconsciously resting upon the heavy glass flagon of rum. He towered above the other two men as he stood there transfixing them with his resentful glance, his brow heavy with threat and anger. But the two soldiers made no movement toward complying with the admonition of their sometime superior.
"D'ye hear me?" he cried, stepping forward, reddening with rage at their apparent contumacy. "And bethink ye, sirs, had best address me, who stand in the place of the King's Majesty, as 'Your Excellency,' or I'll have you broke, knaves."
"We need no lessons in manners from you, Sir Henry Morgan," cried Hawxherst, angry in turn to be so browbeaten, though yesterday he would have taken it mildly enough. "And know by this, sir," lifting the paper, "that you are no longer Governor of this island, and can claim respect from no one."
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