<h3> CHAPTER XXVI </h3>
<p>Certain men, whom misfortune and loss of riches have
driven to seek comfort in philosophy, have devoured
much paper and spilled an infinity of ink in dispraise
of gold and silver, railing at those metals with a plentiful
store of scornful epithets, to show their baseness and
want of true value.</p>
<p>Had any such been with us now they would have
found a very plausible argument for their conclusions.
Rolling in gold and silver, we were destitute; though
oppressed with wealth, we were poorer than church
mice. Willingly we would have given all we had, and
more, for one smart, well-furnished frigate in the road.</p>
<p>After the discovery of our forlorn state many were
so moved that they cast away their gold, and, losing all
hope of escape, gave themselves up to despair; and not
without excuse. For we could not doubt but that our
pinnaces had been taken, and that our stronghold at
Fort Diego would be revealed by the torture of prisoners.
Thus all hope of ever getting back to our homes was
gone; and the greater part of the company, losing all
heart, began to murmur and complain very bitterly
against the captains who had brought them to such a
pass. I can say no more of the depth to which our
spirits sank, or the misery of that hour, than that it was
one of those times when Frank Drake's nature rose to
its greatest height. He leaped upon a log, and with his
clear, cheerful voice addressed them without a note of
fear or misgiving, where no one else could discern the
smallest ray of encouragement or the forlornest hope of
safety.</p>
<p>'Shame on you! shame!' he cried. 'What faint-heartedness
is this? If you miscarry, so do I. You
venture no further than I. And is this a time to wail
and fear? If it be, then is it also a time to hasten to
prevent what we fear. If the enemy have prevailed
against our pinnaces, which God forbid, yet all is not
lost. Only half their work is done. They must have
time to search and examine their prisoners as to where
our strength lies; and then they will want some time
to form their resolution, and quarrel who is to command.
Ah! you know not Spaniards. Then they will want
time to order a fleet twice or thrice as large as needful;
item, time to come to our ships; item, time to resolve
upon their method of attack; item, time to find stomach
to deliver it. And before all this will be discharged
we can get to our ships, if you will so resolve, like the
men that you have at divers times shown yourselves.'</p>
<p>'But how? how?' they cried, as he paused.</p>
<p>'Why, now you speak like men,' he said, 'and give a
captain heart to save you. By land, I think, we cannot
come to them, though our Pedro would have us so try.
It is sixteen days' journey thither, and before that the
Spaniards will have struck. Yet by sea we may. See
you those trees God has sent down the river for you by
last night's storm? Of those we can make a raft; and
four of us sail aloof the shore and call the ships hither.
Of those four I shall be one; who will be the others?'</p>
<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth when Harry
had shouted 'I!' and then followed a clamour of 'I's'
in English, French, and Spanish, as half the whites and
all the blacks offered themselves when they understood
what our captain's words should mean. Finally he
chose Harry, as having spoken first, and two Frenchmen,
who were great swimmers, because our fellow-venturers
boldly claimed, as of right, a half-share in every danger
as well as in all plunder.</p>
<p>So from despair our captain's resolute words, so
cheerfully spoken, raised them all in a short space to a
lively hope; and all hands set eagerly to work to bind
together some of the trees which the swollen river had
brought down.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, more grieved than I can say to think
that Harry was going to what seemed almost certain
death, in spite of what Frank had said, I went to him
to try and dissuade him from his purpose.</p>
<p>'Tush!' said he, 'what is there to fear?'</p>
<p>'Nothing for you to fear, I know well,' I answered;
'it is not that. It is what I fear. I have a most evil
foreboding that if you go on this venture we shall never
see you again.'</p>
<p>'Well, and what matter?' he laughed; 'a man must
die once.'</p>
<p>'Yes,' said I, 'but he need not rot to death in a
Spanish prison, or die before his time. The Spanish
shallops will be scouring all the coast, and must of a
certainty pick you up like half-drowned rats ere ever
you reach the Cabeças. Why should you do this when
there is no need—you who of us all have most to live
for?'</p>
<p>'And what have I to live for,' he answered, with
clouding brow, 'that others have not?'</p>
<p>'You know! you know!' I said. 'Give me not the
pain or shame of saying what. Nay, hear me then,' I
went on, as I saw a bitter reply rising to his lips; and
then, determined to leave no means untried to preserve
him to the woman I had so cruelly wronged, I told him
how I had gone back to Ashtead after that terrible
night; how I had seen through the window his dear
wife kissing his letter and weeping over his child; how
I had marked a hundred signs whereby I knew her love
for him was only the more pure and ardent for the trial
it had undergone.</p>
<p>God be praised! if it was He that put the burning
words in my mouth with which I told my tale and
pleaded my cause. Long had I kept it pent up in my
heart, for want of courage to tell him, as well as for
fear of increasing his grief and his hate for me; and
now it flowed with the full strength of the gathered
flood which his long coldness had frozen up in me.</p>
<p>What joy was in my heart I cannot tell in words
when, ere I had done, he seized my hand in his manly
way and said, 'Have your will, brother! Go in my
place. If we ever meet again we shall be brothers
indeed once more, and brothers we should never have
ceased to be had I known you as I should. Let what
I do be a token to you. I know the danger of this
service as well as you, and never did I think for any
man I could turn back from such an attempt when I
had offered myself and been chosen. To you, brother,
and her, I sacrifice thus my honour in token of how
high beyond all words I value this love you have both
given me, who deserve it so little.'</p>
<p>Bright shone the sun in my heart, bright as the
mid-day fire over our heads, as to the music of a hearty
cheer we dropped down the river in our frail bark.
Frank was steering her with a rude oar which had
been shaped from a young tree, the two Frenchmen
stood by with poles in case of need, and I managed
the biscuit-bag whereof we had made our sail.</p>
<p>The Cimaroons had bitterly lamented not coming
with us, but them Frank would have stay to succour
those who remained, since there we had greatest need
of them.</p>
<p>'No,' he had said; 'stay here for a little while to
conduct my company by land if I return not. Yet, if it
please God that I shall once put foot in safety aboard
my frigate, I will, God willing, get you all aboard, in
despite of all the Spaniards in the Indies.'</p>
<p>With this courageous speech he left the whole
company in good heart, because they knew of a surety,
since he had so passed his word, that if they were
lost it would not be for want of the last effort of
the man who best in all the world knew how to save
them.</p>
<p>Our voyage was evil enough to have damped any
spirits less lifted with joy than mine, or less constant
than Frank's. The whole time we were up to our
waists in water as we sat, and as soon as we reached
the open sea we found the swell so big that each wave
surged up to our necks, and we had much ado to hold
on. Moreover the sun so burned down upon us, all
unprotected as we were, that what with the salt water
and the scorching, we soon had little skin left that was
not all blisters.</p>
<p>Yet a very smart breeze was blowing from the
westwards, so that we made good progress towards the
Cabeças, and so kept up our spirits. It was as the sun
was getting low that Frank suddenly cried to me,
'Look! look! Jasper, ahead there off the point!'</p>
<p>I looked where he pointed and saw two large pinnaces
struggling to weather the headland with oars against
the freshening breeze.</p>
<p>'What shall we do?' said I. 'We must drive. We
cannot stop. How shall we avoid them?'</p>
<p>'Avoid them!' said Frank, with a merry laugh. 'Why,
lad, they are our own, and if we can but make them see,
we are saved.'</p>
<p>'Yet perhaps they are prizes to Spaniards,'
suggested one of the Frenchmen, 'and are manned by
Spaniards.'</p>
<p>'No, monsieur, no,' said Frank; 'you never saw
Spaniards row like that. See how they labour, and yet
I think they make no head. Pray God they be not
cast away on the point!'</p>
<p>Indeed as we drew nearer there seemed no small
danger of this. The wind was shifting more and more
on to the land as it freshened, and we could see they
made a lot of leeway.</p>
<p>'They will never do it,' said Frank; 'they are too short
of hands. It is hard to be so near safety, yet so far.'</p>
<p>Even as he spoke we saw them cease rowing and
fall slowly under the lee of the point. In a few minutes
they were out of sight, and we blankly confessed to
ourselves that they must have resolved to ride out the rising
gale and the night in the still water behind the point.</p>
<p>It was a bitter disappointment to us, and our
new-found joy at finding our pinnaces were still safe gave
way to a new-found grief. So intent had we been in
watching them that we had not noticed how the
shifting wind was driving us a-land. Straight ahead
of us was the dark forest-clad point against which the
surf was booming and spouting sheets of white spray.
It was plain we could never weather it, and that if we
continued as we were we must almost certainly be
dashed to pieces in the foaming breakers.</p>
<p>Eagerly I watched, and tried to persuade myself
our raft was bearing better room. Every tilt which
the waves gave her I tried to fancy was a change of
course, but still we drifted to leeward in spite of the
rapid headway we made before the rising gale. All at
once, as I watched, our head swung round to leeward
and all chance was gone. I looked to see the cause
and saw Frank very calm and stern with the helm
hard up.</p>
<p>'Now, if ever,' said he; 'pray God to help us. Nay,
look not scared, Jasper. It is our only chance. We
cannot weather the point, and all that is left is to try
and beach the raft this side, and then, if we land alive
and whole, make about the point to the pinnaces afoot.
All which we can well do, if it please God to send us
a big wave and a pleasant beach.'</p>
<p>It was indeed a time for prayer. Soon close ahead
we could see the breakers rolling in upon the shore
rank after rank, a wilderness of boiling foam. I saw
the two Frenchmen tighten their belts for the coming
struggle. Each of them pulled out a great quoit of gold
from his breast. Then they whispered together for a
space and put them back. So I kept mine in spite of
the danger, if we had to swim, and Frank kept his.</p>
<p>In a few minutes we were at the edge of our peril.
Frank steadied the raft before the wind like the master
hand he was; a raging mass of foam seemed to rise
beneath us and shoot us towards the shore. What was
in front we could not see. Like an arrow we flew, nor
ever rested till we crashed upon the beach.</p>
<p>With that hoarse and terrible whistle with which
the breakers on a shingly shore seem to draw their
monstrous breath for a new effort to destroy, the wave
that had borne us went screaming back. In a moment
we had leaped on the rolling shingle and rushed up
the beach as fast as our remaining strength and our
shifting foothold would let us.</p>
<p>Again the angry sea swept at us, but it was too
late. As once more it retired, drawing its strident
breath, we dug hands, feet, and knees into the moving
stones till it was gone, and then once more got up and
ran. Ere another wave had burst we were in safety,
lying breathless upon a flowery bank.</p>
<p>Frank was the first to move. I heard him mutter
his words of thanksgiving for our safety, and then he
called cheerfully to us in high spirit.</p>
<p>'Up, lads, up,' he said; 'we must lose no time. See
yonder light to windward; the gale will lessen in another
hour, and the pinnaces as like as not will sail. We
will go about the point now as quick as we can, and
when we see them run our fastest, like men pursued,
to give them a rattling fright, that they may prove their
quickness to save us since they have been so slow
hitherto. It is but fair dealing to put this jest on them
for giving us such an evil sail.'</p>
<p>This we did, and were no sooner come about the
point than we saw the blessed sight of our two
pinnaces anchored in a quiet cove. Away went Frank
running towards them as hard as he could, and we after
him crying at the top of our voices. They seemed terribly
afraid to see their captain thus suddenly appear with
but three followers, and made the greatest speed to take
us aboard.</p>
<p>At first Frank did not speak, but sat very solemn
and stern, and we, taking our cue from him, did likewise;
nor did they ask anything of what our running and
sudden appearance might mean. Indeed they feared
our news was too terrible for them to be in a hurry to
hear it.</p>
<p>'How does all the company?' said one at last.</p>
<p>'Well,' said Frank sullenly, which made them all look
more alarmed than ever, till he could bear it no longer,
and, bursting into a loud laugh, he drew his golden quoit
from his doublet.</p>
<p>'Look there!' he cried, brandishing it in their faces.
'At last our voyage is made!'</p>
<p>And so he told them how we had sped, and told
the Frenchmen amongst them how their captain was
left behind sore wounded, and comforted them by
letting them know how two of his company remained
with him, and how it was our intention to rescue him.</p>
<p>'And tell me,' he said, 'how it was you discharged
not the order I most straitly gave you to be in the
Rio Francisco yesterday?'</p>
<p>'We did our best,' said the commander. 'Yet the
gale was so strong from the west that with all our
rowing we could get no farther than this.'</p>
<p>'Well, God be praised for His mercy,' said Frank.
'Surely is He wiser than man. Had you done as I
said, you would have come to the river in the nick of
time to be devoured by seven pinnaces from Nombre
de Dios, which I doubt not were fitted out for that
purpose. I think they have been driven in for fear of the
gale, and will be out again as soon as it abates.
Therefore we must make shift to continue our way with oars
as soon as possible.'</p>
<p>And this they cheerfully did before an hour was
gone. Their short rest and our news seemed to make
new men of them, so that, partly by infinite labour at
the oars with our help, and partly by an abating of the
wind, we came by morning into the Rio Francisco.
There we took all our company and treasure aboard,
and so sailed back to our frigate, and thence without
mishap to our ships.</p>
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