The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main

"You are welcome at the ajoupa," Lepoletais said, doffing his hat with a politeness that could hardly have been expected on seeing his rough appearance. "So long as you like to remain here, you will be regarded as our brothers; whatever we possess is yours, dispose of it as you think proper, as well as of our arms, should an occasion offer for you to demand our help."

"I thank you in the name of my companions, caballero, and accept your kind proposal," Doña Clara answered.

"A woman!" Lepoletais exclaimed, in surprise, "Pardon me, Madam, for not recognizing you at once."

"I am, caballero, Doña Clara de Bejar, to whom, as I was informed, you have a letter to deliver."

"In that case doubly welcome, madam; as for the note in question, I have not the charge of it, but my comrade."

"Zounds," L'Olonnais exclaimed, who had gone up to the wounded man, "Omopoua certainly told us that this poor devil of a monk had been almost dismasted, but I did not expect to find him in so pitiable a state."

"Well," Lepoletais remarked with a frown, "I am not a very religious man, but hang me if I should not hesitate to treat a monk in this way; only a pagan is capable of committing such a crime."

Then, with a truly filial attention, which the Spaniards admired, the rude adventurer set to work, offering some relief to the wounded man's intolerable sufferings, in which he entirely succeeded, owing to a long practice in treating wounds of every description, and Fray Arsenio soon fell into an invigorating sleep.

During this time L'Olonnais had handed to Doña Clara the letter which Montbarts had entrusted to him for her, and the young lady had withdrawn a little for the purpose of reading it.

"Come, come," L'Olonnais said gaily, as he tapped the Major-domo's shoulder, "that is what I call a sensible lad, he has thought of the substantials; breakfast is ready."

"If that be the case," Lepoletais said, with a significant wink to his comrade; "we will eat double tides, for we shall have work before long."

"Shall we not wait the return of the Indian chief?" Don Sancho asked.

"For what purpose?" L'Olonnais said, with a laugh. "Do not trouble yourself about him, my gentleman: he is a long way off if he is still running. Each of us has his work cut out for him."

"I don't care!" Lepoletais remarked. "You had a deuced fine scent, Señor, in responding to our invitation so quickly!"

"Why so?"

"You will soon know. But now take my advice – recruit your strength by eating."

At this moment Doña Clara rejoined the party. Her demeanour was firmer, and her face almost gay.

The table was soon laid – leaves serving for plates. They sat down to it, that is to say, they formed a circle on the ground, and bravely assailed the provisions.

Don Sancho had resumed all his gaiety. This life appeared to him delightful, and he laughed heartily, while eating with a good appetite. Doña Clara herself, in spite of her inward preoccupation, did honour to this improvised banquet.

"Up! my darlings," Lepoletais had said to his dogs. "Tally ho! No idleness, but go and watch the approaches while we are breakfasting. Your share shall be kept."

The dogs had risen with admirable obedience, and turning their backs on the boucans, scattered in all directions, and speedily disappeared.

"Yours are first-rate dogs," said Don Sancho.

"You Spaniards are good judges of that," the buccaneer replied, mockingly.

The gentleman felt the sting, and did not deem it advisable to dwell on the subject. In fact, it was at Saint Domingo that the Spaniards inaugurated the frightful custom of training bloodhounds to hunt the Indians, and employing them as auxiliaries in their wars.

The breakfast was concluded without any fresh incident worthy of remark, and the most perfect cordiality prevailed during the repast.

When the masters had finished, it was the turn of the servants; that is to say, L'Olonnais whistled up the dogs, which in an instant were collected round him, and gave them their share in equal portions.

The buccaneers, leaving their guests, and at liberty to employ their time as they thought proper, were soon actively busied in preparing their hides.

Several hours passed in this way. About three in the afternoon a dog barked, and then held its tongue.

We have forgotten to state that, after their meal, the dogs returned to their posts at a signal from the engagé.

The two buccaneers exchanged a glance.

"One!" said L'Olonnais.

"Two!" Lepoletais almost immediately answered on a second bark, which broke out in a different direction.

Ere long, like an electric current, the challenges of the hounds succeeded each other with extreme rapidity, raised in all directions.

Still, nothing seemed to justify these warnings given by the sentries. No suspicious sound could be heard, and the savannah seemed to be plunged into the most perfect solitude.

"I beg your pardon, caballero," Don Sancho said to Lepoletais, who continued his task with the same ardor, while laughing merrily with his comrade; "but will you permit me to ask you a question?"

"Do so, do so, my good gentleman. It is at times well to ask questions: besides, if the question does not suit me, I shall be at liberty not to answer it, I suppose?"

"Oh! Of course."

"In that case, speak without fear."

"For some minutes past your dogs seem to have been giving you signals – or, at least, I suppose so?"

"You suppose right, caballero. They are really signals."

"And would there be any indiscretion in asking you the meaning of the signals?"

"Not the least in the world, señor, especially as they interest you quite as much as us."

"I do not understand you."

"You will soon do so. These signals signify that the savannah is at this moment invaded by several Fifties, which are manoeuvring to surround us."

"¡Diablos!" the young man exclaimed, with a start of surprise: "And you do not feel more affected than that?"

"Why anticipate anxiety? My comrade and I had a pressing job which we were obliged to finish. Now that it is done, we are going to turn our attention to the señores."

"But we cannot possibly resist so many enemies?"

"Ah! Ah! Do you really feel inclined for a brush?"

"S'death! My sister and I are incurring quite as much danger as you, and we have not a minute to lose in attempting flight."

"Flight?" the buccaneer said, with a grin; "Nonsense! You must be laughing, my gentleman: we are enclosed in an impassable circle – or what looks so."

"In that case, we are lost."

"How you go on! On the contrary, they are lost."

"They? Why, we are only four against a hundred."

"You are mistaken. There are two hundred; and that makes fifty for each of us. Call in the dogs, L'Olonnais; they are now useless. Stay! Look there; can you see them?"

And he stretched his arm out straight ahead.

In fact, the long lances of the Spanish soldiers appeared above the tall grass. Lepoletais had told the truth. These lances formed a circle, which was being more and more contracted round the boucan.

"Come! That is rather neat," the buccaneer added, as he affectionately tapped the butt of his long fusil.

"Señora," he added, "keep by the side of the wounded man."

"Oh! Let me give myself up," she exclaimed, frantically. "It is on my account that this terrible danger menaces you."

"Señora," the buccaneer replied, as he struck his chest with a gesture of supreme majesty; "you are under the safeguard of my honour, and I swear by Heaven, that no one, so long as I live, shall dare to lay a finger upon you! Go to the wounded man."

Involuntarily subdued by the accent with which the buccaneer uttered these words, Doña Clara bowed without replying, and pensively seated herself inside the ajoupa, by the side of Fray Arsenio, who was still asleep.

"Now, caballero," Lepoletais said to Don Sancho, "if you have never been present at a buccaneering expedition, I promise you you are going to see some fun, and enjoy yourself."

"Well," the young man replied, recklessly; "I will fight, if I must. It is a glorious death for a gentleman, to die sword in hand!"

"Come," said the buccaneer, as he gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder; "you are a fine lad. Something can be made of you."

The Fifties still approached, and the circle grew more and more contracted.

CHAPTER XXX
THE EXTERMINATOR

For some minutes a mournful silence – a complete calm, which, however, was loaded with menace, hung heavily over the savannah.

At a whistle from the engagé, the dogs ranged themselves behind their masters, with heads down, lips drawn back to display their sharp teeth, and flashing eyes, they awaited the order to rush forward, though without giving the slightest bark or growl.

L'Olonnais, leaning on his long fusil, was smoking his pipe quietly, while casting sarcastic glances around.

Lepoletais occupied himself with the utmost order in arranging various articles which had been deranged during his morning's operations.

The Major-domo, though in his heart he felt very anxious as to the result of this apparently so disproportionate combat, was obliged to grin and bear it – to use a familiar expression; for he was aware that if he fell into the hands of his master, he had no mercy to expect from him, after the manner in which he had thwarted his projects, by favouring the flight of the Countess.

Don Sancho de Peñaflor, in spite of his natural levity and warlike character, was not without anxiety either, for, as an officer of the Spanish army, his place was not in the ranks of the buccaneers, but with the soldiers who were preparing to attack them.

Doña Clara, kneeling by the side of the monk, with clasped hands, eyes raised to heaven, and face inundated with tears, was fervently imploring the protection of the Almighty.

As for Fray Arsenio, he was quietly sleeping.

Such was the picturesque aspect, imposing in its simplicity, offered at this moment by the camp of the adventurers. Four men were preparing coolly, and as if for the mere fun of the thing, to contend against upwards of two hundred regular troops, from whom they knew that they had no quarter to expect, but whom their insane resistance would probably exasperate, and urge to measures of cruel violence.

In the meanwhile the circle was more and more contracted, and the heads of the soldiers were already beginning to appear above the tall grass.

"Ah, ah!" said Lepoletais, rubbing his horney hands together with an air of triumph – "I fancy it is time to open the ball; what do you say, my boy?"

"Yes, this is the right moment," the engagé replied, as he went to fetch a log from the fire.

"Mind not to stir from the spot where you are," Lepoletais recommended the two Spaniards: "zounds! pay attention to this, or you will run a risk of having your goose cooked," and he laid a stress on the last words, with an evidently sarcastic meaning.

The buccaneers, before establishing their bivouac, had pulled up the grass for a distance of about thirty paces all around the ajoupa; this grass, dried and calcined by the heat of the sun, had been piled up at the border of the cleared ground.

The engagé laid down his fusil, walked straight to this grass, set it on fire, and then slowly returned to rejoin his companions.

The effect of this manoeuvre was instantaneous, a jet of flame suddenly burst out, spread in all directions, and soon a large portion of the savannah presented the appearance of a vast furnace.

The buccaneers laughed heartily at what they considered an excellent joke.

The Spaniards, taken unawares, uttered cries of terror, and rapidly recoiled, pursued by the flame, which constantly spread, and continually advanced toward them.

Still, it was evident that the adventurers had no intention of burning the unfortunate Spaniards alive; the fire lit by them had not sufficient consistency for that; the grass burned and went out again with extreme rapidity. Doubtless the sole result that the buccaneers had wished to obtain, was to cause a panic terror to their enemies, and cast disorder among them; and in this they had been perfectly successful.

The soldiers, half roasted by the flames, fled, uttering cries of terror before this sea of fire, which seemed incessantly to pursue them, without thinking of looking back, or obeying their officers, and having but one thought, escaping the terrible danger that menaced them.

While this was going on Lepoletais coolly explained to Don Sancho the probable results of the expedient he had employed.

"You see, Señor," he said, "this blaze is nothing; it is an almost inoffensive straw fire; in a few minutes, or half an hour at the latest, it will be extinguished. If these men are cowards we shall have got rid of them, if not, they will return, and then the affair will be serious."

"But, as you recognize the inefficiency of this means, why did you employ it? In my opinion it is more injurious than usual to our defence."

The buccaneer shook his head several times.

"You do not understand," he said; "I had several motives for acting thus. In the first place, however brave you may suppose your countrymen to be, they are now demoralised, and it will be very difficult to restore them the courage they no longer possess; on the other hand, I was not sorry to see clearly around me, and sweep the savannah a little, and lastly," he added, with a cunning look, "who told you that the fire I lighted was not a signal?"

"A signal?" Don Sancho exclaimed; "Then you have friends near here?"

"Who knows? Señor, my companions are very active, and are frequently met with when least expected."

"I confess that I do not understand a word of what you are saying to me."

"Patience, Señor, patience! You will soon understand, I assure you, and will not require any great effort of the intellect to do so. L'Olonnais," he added, turning to his comrade, "I think you had better go down there now."

"That is true," L'Olonnais replied, as he carelessly threw his fusil over his shoulder, "he will be expecting me."

"Take some of the dogs with you."

"What for?"

"To guide you, my lad; it is not easy now to find one's way through the ashes, for all the trails are covered."

The engagé called several dogs by their name, and went off without replying, followed by a portion of the pack.

"There," Lepoletais continued, pointing to the engagé, who seemed to be running, as he went at such a pace, "just look at that fellow, he is a fine chap, eh? And how he behaves, though he has not been more than two months in America; in three years from this time I predict to you that he will be one of our most celebrated adventurers."

"Did you buy him?" Don Sancho asked, though but little interested in details which had no importance for him.

"Unluckily, no, he has only been lent to me for a few days; he is the engagé of Montbarts the Exterminator: I offered him two hundred piastres for him, but he refused to sell him."

"What?" the young man exclaimed – "Montbarts, the celebrated filibuster?"

"The very man; he is a friend of mine."

"In that case he is close at hand?"

"That, Señor, is one of the things which you will learn shortly."

As the buccaneer had foreseen, the fire went out almost as quickly as it blazed up, for want of aliment on this savannah, where only grass and a few insignificant shrubs grew.

The Spaniards had sought shelter on the banks of the stream, whose barren sand preserved them from contact with the fire. The forests, too remote from the scene of the fire, had not caught, although a few tongues of flame had played round their edge.

From the boucan it was easy to perceive the Spanish officers striving to restore some degree of order among their troops, doubtless for the purpose of attempting a new attack, although Lepoletais did not appear at all alarmed. Among the officers one was especially remarkable; he was on horseback, and was taking immense trouble to form the ranks, and the other officers came up in turn to receive his orders.

This officer Don Sancho recognized at the first glance.

"This is what I feared," he muttered; "the Count has placed himself at the head of the expedition, and we are lost."

In truth, it was Don Stenio de Bejar, who, on arriving at the hatto at daybreak, and learning the flight of the Countess, resolved to command the expedition.

The position of the adventurers was critical, reduced as they were to three, encamped in the middle of a bare plain, and without entrenchments of any description. Still, the confidence of the buccaneer did not seem diminished, and it was with an ironical air that he examined the preparations the enemy was making against him.

The Spaniards, formed again with great difficulty by the energy of their officers, at last started, and proceeded once more toward the boucan, while taking the same precautions as before, that is to say, being careful to extend their front, so as to form a complete circle, and entirely surround the encampment.

But the march of the Fifties was slow and measured; it was only with extreme caution that the soldiers ventured on this scarcely cooled ground, which might conceal fresh snares.

The Count, pointing to the boucan with his sword, in vain excited his troops to press on, and finish with this handful of scoundrels who dared to oppose His Majesty's troops; the soldiers would not listen, and only advanced with greater caution, for the calmness and apparent negligence of their enemies frightened them more than a hostile demonstration, and must, in their opinion, be owing to some terrible trap laid for them.

At this moment the situation was complicated by a strange episode; a canoe crossed the stream, and ran ashore exactly at the spot which the Spaniards had quitted only a few minutes previously.

This canoe contained five persons, three adventurers, and two Spaniards.

The adventurers stepped ashore as calmly as if they; were quite alone, and pushing the two Spaniards before them, advanced resolutely toward the soldiers.

The latter, astonished, confounded at such audacity, watched them coming without daring to make a movement to oppose them.

These three adventurers were Montbarts, Michael the Basque, and L'Olonnais, and seven or eight dogs followed them. The two Spaniards walked unarmed in front of them, being alarmed about their fate, as was proved by the pallor of their faces, and the startled glances which they threw around them.

The Count, on perceiving the adventurers, uttered a cry of rage, and bounded with uplifted sword to meet them.

"Down with the ladrones!" he cried.

The soldiers, ashamed of being held in check by three men, wheeled round, and boldly advanced.

The adventurers were surrounded in an instant; but, without displaying the slightest surprise at this manoeuvre, they also halted, and standing shoulder to shoulder, faced all sides at once.

The soldiers instinctively stopped.

"Death!" the Count cried; "No mercy for the ladrones!"

"Silence," Montbarts replied; "before menacing, listen to the news these two couriers bring you."

"Seize these villains!" the Count yelled again. "Kill them like dogs!"

"Nonsense," Montbarts remarked, ironically; "you are mad, my worthy sir. Seize us! Why, I defy you to do it."

The three adventurers then emptied their powder flasks into their caps, and placed their bullets on the top of it; then, holding in one hand their caps thus converted into grenades, and in the other their lighted pipes, they waited for the signal.

"Attention, brothers," Montbarts said; "and you scoundrels, make way, there, unless you wish us to blow you all up."

And with a firm and measured step the three adventurers advanced toward the Spaniards, who were struck with terror, and really opened their ranks to make a passage for them.

"Oh!" Montbarts added, with a laugh, "Do not fear that we shall attempt to fly; we only want to join our comrades."

Then was witnessed the extraordinary scene of two hundred men timidly following at a respectful distance three filibusters, who, while walking and smoking to keep their pipes from going out, did not cease from jeering them for their cowardice.

Lepoletais was quite wild with delight: as for Don Sancho, he did not know whether to feel most astonished at the mad temerity of the French, or the cowardice of his countrymen.

The three adventurers thus most easily effected their junction with their companions without having been once disturbed by the Spaniards during a rather long walk. In spite of the prayers and exhortations of the Count to his soldiers, the only thing he obtained from them was, that they continued to advance instead of retreating, as they had a manifest intention of doing.

But, while the adventurers thus drew the soldiers after them, and concentrated their entire attention, a thing was happening which the Count perceived when too late, and which began to cause him serious alarm as to the result of his expedition.

In the rear of the centre formed by the Spanish soldiers, another circle had been drawn up as if by enchantment, but the latter was composed of buccaneers and red Caribs, at whose head Omopoua made himself remarkable.

The adventurers and Indians had manoeuvred with so much intelligence, vivacity, and silence, that the Spaniards were enveloped in a network of steel, even before they had suspected the danger that menaced them.

The Count uttered an exclamation of rage, to which the soldiers responded by a cry of terror.

The situation was, in fact, extremely critical for the unhappy Spaniards, and unless a miracle occurred, it was literally impossible for them to escape death.

In fact they had no longer to contend against a few men, resolute, it is true, but whom numbers must eventually conquer, even at a sacrifice; the filibusters were at least two hundred, and with their allies the Caribs, formed an effective strength of five hundred men, all as brave lions, and three hundred more than the Spaniards; the latter understood that they were lost.

On arriving at the boucan, directly that he had squeezed Lepoletais' hand and complimented him on the way in which he had contrived to gain time, Montbarts gravely occupied himself with his comrades, in restoring the powder and bullets to their respective receptacles, as he probably judged that their caps might now be used for their legitimate purpose.

While the filibuster was engaged in this occupation, Doña Clara, pale as a corpse, fixed on him burning glances, though she did not venture to approach him. At length she took courage, advanced a few paces and murmured with an effort in a trembling voice and with clasped hands, —

"I am here, sir."

Montbarts trembled at the sound of this voice, and turned pale; but he made an effort over himself and softened the rather hard expression of his eye.

"I have come solely on your account, Madam," he replied with a polite bow; "I shall have the honour of placing myself at your orders in a moment; permit me first to make sure that our interview will be uninterrupted."

Doña Clara hung her head and returned to her seat by the wounded man.

The adventurers had continued to advance and were soon scarce ten paces from the Spaniards, whose terror was augmented by this disagreeable vicinity.

"Hola, brothers!" Montbarts shouted in a powerful voice; "Halt, if you please."

The filibusters instantaneously became motionless.

"And now, you fellows," the Admiral continued, addressing the soldiers; "throw down your arms, unless you wish to be immediately shot."

All the lances and swords fell on the ground with a unanimity which proved the desire of the soldiers not to have the menace carried into effect.

"Surrender your sword, sir," Montbarts said to the Count.

"Never!" the latter exclaimed, as he made his horse curvet, and advanced with upraised blade on the adventurer, from whom he was only three paces distant.

At the same instant a fusil was discharged and the sword blade, struck within an inch of the guard, was shivered; the Count found himself disarmed. With a sudden movement Montbarts seized the horse's bridle with one hand, and with the other hurled the Count from the saddle and laid him prostrate on the ground.

"Patatras!" Lepoletais said laughingly, while reloading his fusil; "What a deuced funny idea to try alone to resist five hundred men."

The Count rose quite confused by his fall; a livid pallor covered his face, and his features were contracted by anger; all at once his eyes fell upon the Countess.

"Ah!" He yelled with the cry of a tiger, as he darted towards her, "At least I shall avenge myself."

But Montbarts seized him by the arm and rendered him motionless.

"One word, one gesture, and I blow out your brains like the wild beast you are," he said to him.

There was such an accent of menace in the filibuster's words; his interference had been so rapid that the Count, involuntarily cowed, fell back with his arms folded on his chest and remained apparently calm, although a volcano was at work in his heart, and his eyes were obstinately fixed on the Countess.

Montbarts gazed for a moment at his enemy with an expression of pity and contempt.

"You have desired, sir," he at length said to him ironically; "to try your strength with the filibusters and will soon learn the cost; while impelled by a mad desire of vengeance and inspired by an imaginary jealousy, you were virulently pursuing a lady whose noble heart and brilliant virtues you are incapable of appreciating, one half of the island of which you are the governor has been torn forever from the power of your sovereign, by my companions and myself; Tortuga, Leogane, San Juan de Goava, and your hatto del Rincón, suddenly surprised, have fallen without a blow."

The Count drew himself up, a feverish flush covered his face, he advanced a step and cried in a voice choking with passion, —

"You lie, villain; however great your audacity may be, it is impossible that you have succeeded in seizing the places you mention."

Montbarts shrugged his shoulders.

"An insult coming from lips like yours has no effect," he said, "you shall soon have the confirmation of what I assert; but enough of this subject; I wished to have you in my power in order that you may be witness of what I have to say to this lady. Come," he added, addressing Doña Clara; "come, madam, and forgive me for not wishing to see you except in the presence of the man you call your husband."

On hearing the appeal, Doña Clara rose trembling, and tottered forward.

There was a momentary silence; Montbarts, with his head hanging on his chest, seemed plunged in bitter thoughts; at length he drew himself up, passed his hand over his forehead as if to drive away the mist that obscured his reason, turned to Doña Clara, and said to her in a gentle voice, —

"You desired to see me, madam, in order to remind me of a time forever past, and to confide a secret to me. This secret I have no right to know; the Count de Barmont is dead, dead to everybody, to you before all, who did not blush to renounce him, and though you belonged to him by legitimate ties, and before all by the more legitimate one of a powerful love, cowardly permitted yourself to be chained to another; this is a crime, madam, which no forgiveness can efface, either in the present or past."

"Pity me, sir," the unhappy lady said, as she writhed beneath this curse and burst into tears; "pity me, in the name of my remorse and my sufferings!"

"What are you doing, madam?" the Count exclaimed, "Rise at once."

"Silence," Montbarts said in a harsh voice, "Allow this culprit to be bowed beneath the weight of her repentance; you, who have been her executioner, have less right than anyone else to protect her."

Don Sancho had rushed toward his sister and, roughly repulsing the Count, raised her in his arms. Montbarts continued.

"I will only add one word, madam; the Count de Barmont had a child; on the day when that child comes to ask his mother's pardon of me, I will grant it – perhaps," he added in a faint voice.

"Oh!" the young lady exclaimed with a feverish energy, as she seized the hand which the filibuster had not the courage to withdraw from her, "Oh sir! You are great and noble, this promise restores me all my hope and courage; oh! I swear to you, sir, I will find my child again."

"Enough, madam," Montbarts continued with ill suppressed emotion; "this interview has lasted too long; here is your brother, he loves you, and will be able to protect you; there is another person whom I regret not to see here, for he would have advised and sustained you, in your affliction."

"To whom do you allude?" Don Sancho asked.

"To the confessor of your sister."

The young man turned away without answering.

"Why, brother," Lepoletais here observed, "here he is half dead, look at his burnt hands."

"Oh!" Montbarts exclaimed, "It is really he, who is the monster that has dared – "

"Here he is!" the buccaneer replied, as he tapped the shoulder of the Count, who was dumb with stupor and horror, for only at this moment did he notice his victim.

Two flashes of flame started from Montbart's eyes.

"Villain," he exclaimed, "what, torture an inoffensive man! Oh, Spaniards, race of vipers! What sufficiently horrible punishment could I inflict on you!"

All his hearers trembled at this passion so long restrained, which had at length burst its bonds and now overflowed with irresistible violence.

"By Heaven!" the filibuster exclaimed in a terrible voice, "It is the worse for you, butcher, that you remind me I am Montbarts the exterminator. L'Olonnais, prepare the fire under the barbacoas of the boucan."

An indescribable terror seized on all the hearers of this order, which clearly expressed to what a horrible punishment the Count was condemned; Don Stenio himself, in spite of his indomitable pride, felt a chill at his heart.

But at this moment, the monk, who had hitherto remained motionless on his couch, and apparently insensible to what was going on, rose with a painful effort, and leaning on the shoulders of Doña Clara and her brother, tottered forward, and knelt with them to the filibuster.

"Pity," he exclaimed, "pity, in Heaven's name!"

"No," Montbarts replied harshly, "This man is condemned."