May 8
This morning on the gun-deck with John when from above comes cry of sail-ho with great stir and ado. So up go we forthwith to the poop and there find Ned peering to starboard through a perspective-glass at this distant ship that is no more than blink of white on the horizon bearing from us, as I judged, north-westerly. So for some while we stood all three scanning her through our glasses and I began to deliberate with myself whether we should go about and stand away from her lest she prove Spanish warship in quest of us, or bear down on her and speak her in the faint hope of news concerning Antonia whose dear memory has been with me in my darkest hours, coming to me in my anguish like sweet and fragrant breath of Heaven, as it ever may, I pray God. I was yet undecided when Ned says that by her rig (now more distant) he judges this a Spanish ship, whereupon I was about to put to him this question that vexed me, when he spoke, saying he was pretty sure there was something amiss, and bidding me watch her closely. This I did, and now saw she was behaving very oddly,—coming up into the wind only to fall off again, and this repeatedly, so that it was manifest she was under no guidance. This deciding me, our course was altered to bring us to her soon as might be. There was stiffish breeze, and this great ship, despite her bluffness, being clean and new-scrubbed, made such fair going that after what seemed great while, yet sooner than I expected, we had good sight of this ship and made out her name to be San Cristobal and later, as she yawed, saw her much scarred by battle, and from her mainyard five dangling shapes that swayed with her every lurch.
We held on until so near we might glimpse her decks, beholding which, I took glass from my eye to look at Ned and he at me. "Pirates!" says he, with great oath, and he no swearer as a rule. "What now, sir?" he questioned. For answer I hailed and ordered a boat hove outboard. So with yards braced aback we drifted near this poor ship and presently brought to within half a pistol-shot of her.
Then Ned and George, John and I, with four men all well armed, rowed to and boarded this ship, clambering up by means of trailing cordage, and stood appalled, for blood seemed everywhere and amid it all, lashed to the mainmast, a dripping, shapeless horror all ringed about by shattered bottles that had battered him to death. Ned was muttering, though whether prayers or curses I knew not. Sir G. D'Arcy reeled to the side and vomited. I, shivering, drew my two pistols instinctively and looked to their primings, and then nigh dropped them in new horror as from 'twixt two huddled bodies that lay abaft, and scarce seen behind the starboard poop-ladder, a dreadful shape up-reared itself, beholding which, Ned cried on God very awfully, for this ghastly, blood-dabbled thing was a woman, who ran crouching, to fall at my feet calling out piteously in Spanish to show mercy on her for Mary and sweet Jesus' sake. So I raised her gently, speaking her kindly as I might in my broken Spanish, and beckoning John, bade him take her to the galleon and give her to the care of Don Luiz.
Then with George and Ned, I went to and fro about this ravaged ship, and in the great cabin found four other women dead and in such cruel and shameful circumstance as I may not describe. And when we had salvaged such few things as might be of any use or value, I ordered this poor ship, this dreadful monument of man's vileness, to be set afire, and so presently back to the Santissima T. Then with yards braced to wind we stood away, leaving this ship, San Cristobal well aflame. And in about an hour, we with fair offing, the fire reaching her magazine, she blew up, hiding her shame forever in God's clean ocean. And now in my body such faintness and within my soul such great bitterness and horror that I could not bear company, so went and hid myself in my cabin, bolting the doors. And after some while, took pen to make faithful record, and therewith this most solemn oath before Almighty God, viz.: That henceforth, the Lord aiding, I will be the Absolute Death and Perfect Destruction of any pirate that Providence see fit to send within my reach, to rid the world of this and like Pests, and the world of such inhuman monsters could have worked such barbarous shame and ghastly suffering aboard this ship called San Cristobal. Amen.
Writ this same day though later.
I had but just set down this most solemn vow and the ink not dry, when Smidge, knocking, cried out that the Don begged word with me. So unlocking the door I bade him be admitted.
He entered immediately, very pale and fervently grateful for this saving of a noble lady of Spain, her name Dolores de Gomez, "who," says he, hands and eyes lifted heavenward, "thanks to the Blessed Virgin and holy saints, 'scaped the unspeakable usage of her mother and sister and their two waiting-women. But, alas, sir, her noble father they murdered, killed him by throwing glass bottles ... the captain and officers of the ship they strung up to the yards and forced overboard such of the crew as refused to join them." I now asked if the lady had told him aught of the rogues had wrought this evil. "Yes, sir," says he, "my lady says 'tis a pirate ship called Joyous Lark, commanded by an Englishman, one James Sigsbee, and long cruising the Main, and much feared, and spoke of as being a consort of this most infamous pirate named Black Bartlemy." And when I had learned thus all I might concerning these villains (and this little enough) I bade the young Don go comfort this poor lady the best he might with assurance of her present safety.
So thus, as if in answer to my vow (above solemnly recorded), comes this news of James Sigsbee and his ship Joyous Lark, the which, thinks I, is like a sign from Providence how I am destined most certainly to be the future destruction of this wretch and his vile company, and thus begin fulfilment of my oath. And this, God aiding, shall be accompt in His own good time.
CHAPTER XXX
TELLS BY WHAT ARTIFICE ADAM BROUGHT THE "JOYOUS LARK" TO DESTRUCTION
And now is to tell what further preparations Adam made and the artifice he used to the accomplishment of his vow, and why so few suspected his design until he brought it to pass in his own subtle though determined manner.
Daily, morning, noon and night, he swept the wide horizons with perspective glass while he kept men constantly aloft on the look-out, with promise of gold piece to the first who should glimpse a sail.