'Take care, Harry,' cried Carlo; 'nay, wait: I will come with you--I can't bear you to run the risk alone.'

'I have been through so many perilous sc.r.a.pes that one more or less makes but little difference. Still, come along, Senorito, we may perhaps make the poor man forget his troubles.'

So the two walked slowly along the sh.o.r.e till they came within a few yards of the weird figure; and Harry, wishing to attract his attention, called out to him and asked him what he did there. Then the figure paused, and gazed at the new-comers as if they were an unfamiliar sight, and began muttering through his long grey beard Spanish words of no meaning.

'Senor Carlo, this poor fellow is a Spaniard; but I see no sign of a musket. Speak to him, and ask him where he sleeps, and why he is here.'

Carlo began very courteously to inquire how the stranger had reached the island, as no boat was in sight; but suddenly he stopped short in his sentence, and clung wildly to Harry.

'Harry, Harry Fenn, look again, that man is--can you not see? It is my father; and yet I hardly knew him. See the ring on his finger?' Harry would certainly not have recognised the Marquis, whom he had seen but little of; but in his astonishment he called out his name.

'The Senor Estevan del Campo! Surely it cannot be! Gracious Heaven!'

'Yes, yes,' said the poor man, 'that is my name. Who called me? Yes, yes, Estevan del Campo!'

'Oh, sir, here is your son,' said Harry; and then Carlo, summoning up his courage, rushed toward his poor father and knelt by his side.

'Father, father, do you not know me? I am Carlo, your son. Forgive me if I ever spoke harshly, father.'

'Carlo my son? No, no, I have no son, no country. Don't let any one come here to find out my hiding-place; I warn them off. The pirates left me here; that was the kindest thing they did for me. I have no name, no t.i.tles. Don't tell any one where I am. What do they call it?--marooning--they marooned me, left me to die alone. It was their kindness; I bear them no grudge for doing that. No name, no country!'

'No, no,' cried Carlo; 'we will take care of you, father; you shall not die alone.' And turning his arm round the poor thin arm of his father, Carlo dragged him forward; and Harry, following behind, wiped away a few tears from his eyes; for it was indeed a sight to have touched the hardest heart. But evidently the poor Marquis was out of his mind and had not much longer to live.

The sound of human voices seemed to soothe him after a time; and when they reached the shade of the grove where Andreas had set out some food for the travellers, he was no longer muttering his few sentences. The surprise of the Indian can easily be imagined, and the poor fellow's pity for his old master was quite touching to witness, even though he had never received much kindness at his hands. Little by little the Marquis began to take in dimly that Carlo was with him, and to accept the services of Andreas as he waited on him; but though not actually starved, he had taken but little trouble to collect food, and the horror of loneliness and shame at his past treason seemed to have done the work of years. Carlo, who had all along been feeling a grudge against his father, could now forgive and forget everything.

'Oh, Andreas, how fortunate it was that you brought us here! Stay with us now, and do not go back to St. Catherine: I am so much afraid that your absence will be discovered, and then---- Do stay, and let us share our misfortunes and our luck.'

It was a great temptation to Andreas, and for a few moments he brooded in silence over the proposal; but he had learnt Christianity in a way not understood by many Christians. He considered that if he stayed he would certainly save himself, but if he returned he might help to save the poor ladies, who had now no protectors; and Andreas knew that the word of a pirate was but a poor thing to trust in. He believed that he could help them, and anyhow he could give them the knowledge that Carlo was safe and that the Marquis was found. What did his life matter? Had not the Padre told him these words: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,' and to the poor Indian the words were simple and powerful, and to be, if needs were, carried out literally. It took him but a few moments to make up his mind.

'Andreas must go back,' he said, smiling, now his decision was made; 'for the Senora and the Senorita will want to know the good news, and they may want also to come to the Queen of the Water. Andreas loves Senor Carlo dearly, but he will go away first and then come again.'

So towards evening, several hours before the sun set, Andreas was escorted to the boat, while the boys helped to push it off from the sh.o.r.e, and the Marquis stood by once more as if he were giving orders, though he merely said, 'Tell them, Andreas, that I did it for the best.

The rascals deceived me. Tell them that, Andreas, and don't let my little Felipa think badly of me.'

CHAPTER XX

SAVED.

Captain Morgan had sent word from Jamaica, whither he had gone after the taking of Panama, that he might be expected in a few days at St.

Catherine, as he was going to fortify it against any future attack of the Spaniards. The Captain had taken the lion's share of the booty, and, finding the loud murmurs of the men to be more than disagreeable, he set sail one evening and left the fleet to do as it thought best.

Still, he was anxious to get back to St. Catherine to conclude his ransoms, and Sieur Simon had been instructed to watch closely that none of the prisoners escaped. What was, then, Simon's rage at finding that not only Carlo, but that young viper, as he called him, Harry Fenn, had escaped in the night, and that Andreas the Indian had carried out the whole plan. Unfortunately, the negro whom Andreas had trusted had turned informer, fearing when the Indian came back he might suffer punishment.

The negro only escaped instant hanging by promising to betray Andreas on his return, and the better to secure this he was to meet him and tell him nothing had been discovered. 'As to the hiding-place of the vipers,' said Simon,' a little of the rack will make the Indian disclose it; for if Captain Morgan comes and finds out the truth he may make me answerable.' To vent his wrath on some one, Simon marched up into the presence of the ladies and told them all he knew, and his future intentions. He forbade them ever to leave the two rooms set apart for them, placed guards in the corridor, and one below the window to which Carlo and Harry had obtained access. There seemed no hope now left them of escape, and they could only wait most anxiously for any sc.r.a.p of news which might leak out through the very ill-tempered guards Simon had placed near them. Etta alone would not give in to low spirits: she felt sure that Andreas would return and would let them know; and as she could not go and watch by the window in the corridor as formerly, she kept a good lookout from the sitting-room verandah. She was indeed the sunshine of the party; for Felipa had drooped again now that Carlo was gone, and Dona Elena was hardly equal to more exertion and disappointment. Catalina would speak of the good old time when she had first come to the island, and when Felipa had been treated as became her rank. She even began to turn against Etta, as being of the same race as the hated Morgan. But Etta would not despair nor give up hope; and so it happened that one day at sundown she heard Andreas' soft whistle below.

'Felipa, dear Felipa, listen: that is Andreas! There! Did I not say he would come back? It is so dark that I cannot see him. What shall we do, Dona Elena? for the good man will not understand he must not come up here.'

They all crept on to the balcony now and listened intently, but the sound died away; and just as they were beginning again to despair there was a knock at the door and the negro Coca entered, bowing very humbly before them as he presented a letter to Dona Elena.

'Andreas is not able to come himself, lady, but he sends letter, and wants answer.'

Dona Elena opened the parchment quickly; but Etta, who was looking on, said hurriedly:

'How did the guards let you pa.s.s if they will not allow Andreas to have speech with us?'

'I was very cunning, Senorita: I said that I had great news to give the Senora.'

Etta, still puzzled, listened to the words of the note, which Dona Elena translated into French so that the negro should not understand.

'The Senor Carlo and the Senor Harry are safe. They have found the n.o.ble father. I cannot see you yet. G.o.d protect you!

'ANDREAS.'

'Andreas waits for answer,' said the negro.

'Do not send one, Dona Elena,' cried Etta quickly, in spite of herself suspecting some plot; for what answer should Andreas require? He could hear for himself that they were safe, but Felipa said pettishly:

'Nay but, dear aunt, send him word that he must get us delivered from this prison; I am weary of being shut up.'

Dona Elena, thinking of no harm, yielded; and soon the negro retired, grinning as he again bowed low.

'I never can like those black creatures,' said Catalina, turning up her nose in disgust. 'Indians are all very well; but negroes--no, no, Senora, you should never trust a negro.'

'Nonsense, Catalina! My dear husband said it was because we treated the negroes so badly that they were sometimes treacherous. Alas! we Spaniards have much to answer for in that respect.'

Catalina was not convinced, and kept on muttering that Andreas might be trusted because his colour was brown, but that black was the colour of the Evil One. Could she have seen what was going on below she might, perhaps, have made even the enlightened Senora agree with her. The negro had taken the note straight to the Sieur Simon, and in a few minutes more Andreas was seized and dragged into his presence, and confronted with it. The Indian saw that the negro had betrayed his trust, and, setting his teeth tight together, he stood before his enemy silent and brave.

'Tell me, dog of an Indian, where thou hast been, and where thou hast hidden those young whelps,' said Simon, angrily. But Andreas was not going to tell him.

'As well answer, for I know everything; the negro has told me; and if thou ownest thy fault I will forgive thee,' said Simon. But Andreas felt sure this was a trap: no one knew the retreat of Senor Carlo--no one at least at St. Catherine.

'Come, my men, here is a dumb dog: see if a little torture will worm out the secret.'

We must draw the veil over the horrible torments which n.o.ble Andreas endured. It was a cruel age, but the desperate men who had broken loose from their country, their religion, and their laws outdid all the cruelties of the age, and fancied because the poor defenceless Indians could not now revenge themselves they were fair game. When nature could bear no more, and the half-dead man was thrown into a dungeon, not a word having been extracted from him, Sieur Simon was rather sorry he had ordered the torturers to go on to such a length, for now it was doubtful if he could ever get any information from him, and he had been told that Andreas knew many valuable secrets which would now most likely die with him.

That night the pirates had a long carousal, because they knew that next day Captain Morgan was expected back, and when he came the good things generally disappeared; so Sieur Simon suddenly bethought himself that most likely there must be treasure hidden away somewhere or other in Santa Teresa. He dared not touch Dona Elena or Felipa--they were able to pay rich ransoms; but his mind turned at once to Etta, the English girl, who was, of course, merely a slave of the Marquis. Yes, she might know, and if--well, if--anything happened to her, no one would care much, and certainly no one would inquire, except Captain Morgan, who had said the English girl was to be cared for; but he would not grieve much about any one who could not bring him in any money.

'Go up, Nat Salt,' he said to an Englishman 'and fetch down that English wench. I would wager a goblet of wine that she knows where the old Marquis kept his treasures.'

'By'r laykin,' said Nat Salt, 'that little cinder witch was rather a favourite with the Captain. It'll not be safe to meddle with her over-much.'

'Nay, I will but make her feel the rope trick round her wrist, and I'll pledge you a flagon of red wine we shall then know all she does.'

'There'll be naught more, then, Sieur Simon, or I would rather not meddle in it; the Captain now and then loses his temper over a mighty small affair.'