The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1901-03-01
CHAPTER Xxx.

Miguel del Cassamoro.
CHAPTER Xxx.
The burning circle of sun baked sea
from which we had escaped was
strangely like vast frying pan, and
now, having got out of that, we were
perilously near finding ourselves in
the fire. Don Miguel was carving us
to Spain to the torture, and even his
vengeful cruelty could invent for us
no more malignant fate.
Had he known that the plumber of
the galleon, together with other booty.
lay snugly hidden on a lonely island
under the guard of crippled dotard,
doubtless his eastward voyage would
nave been broken. He would have
been charmed, too, now that the tables
were SO effectually turned, to renew
his acquaintance with the old man.
his former jailer, for thus the auto da
fe he pictured would have another
actor. But he believed that all our
gains lay fathoms deep on the sea bot
tom with the ill fated Scourge, and
we would not agitate his well bal
anced mind by undeceiving him.
Don Miguel did not put us in irons in
the hold, though some of his underlings
suggested it. No; he remembered the
time when he was our unwilling newer
of wood and drawer of water, and he
prepared to pay back some of his debts
in kind. We We're made to ply our
craft as mariners whenever our serv-
ices We're wanted, and for the rest Of
i the time we We're the slaves of any one
who ito command us.
Every dirty job in the ship fell to the
Englishmen's share, and curse or a
blow was the payment. And though
the gorge of one of us would now and
again rise and a mutinous refusal
tremble on his tongue, his mates would
bid him knuckle under, grin if he
could and bide his time.
"A towards blows never forget their
father" Willie Trehalion would NUT
ter prophetically.
! Aye, uncle, an curses come home to
roost," his nephew Job would chuckle
in reply.
Outwardly no band of unfortunates
was ever more numbed by despair,
more hopalessly reconciled to an irrev-
ocable fate. To the dons' eyes we
We're meek and submissive as Indians.
going about our labors mechanically.
and, it we did not show great interest
III each task, at least we performed ii
effectively. We We're careful not I'd
court suspicion by. excess of zeal, while
we avoided additional tyranny by
steady obedience.
= But we meant to escape. The car
rack should never set us on Spanish
ground. We would, fire her powder
room sooner, and perish with the rest
of her crew in one overwhelming lolo-
caust In the meanwhile we lived in
hope that the chapter of accidents
would unravel the coil in which we
had entangled ourselves
The pilot left the carrack at the most
easterly point of Trinidad and then,
bidding goodby to domestic navigation,
we set out on the ocean voyage. For
two days we beat, tack and tack,
against easterly winds, sagging to lee
ward like haSstack, and making
hardly any Roadway. Then for three
days the wind chopped round fair,
and we sped easily along our course.
But after the third morning had passed
the barren plain of ocean began to
haze over, and as the thickness in
creased the breeze died away. till at
last the carrack lay motionless in the
4 calm Of a dense fog.
Night came, and the gray twilight of
the afternoon changed to inky black
ness. All of us were asleep. tired out
with the eXertions of the day and glad
to snatch little rest.
Suddenly Alec and We're aroused
by a warning touch of Willie Treha-
lions hook.
"Listen!" he whispered
A strange sound came to us out of
/ the blackness, a sound that was half
wall half howl, but wholly weird ana
awful
"a water pixy." said |. trembling.
A "Sea wolves" said one of the men,
who had raised himself on his elbow to
listen. They're seeming prey. We're
in for a fearful storm, or they wouldn't
be there. Sea wolves never hunts
without kill"
\ The sound made itself heard asain-a
"Wa-a-o-o-w'' rising doleful in the still
night air and dying away into nothing
with unutterable mournfulness.
"a water piNy beyond doubi," said
again.
"a water fiddlestickw replied the
boatswain contemptuously. THAT cry
comes from no creature what breathes
through gills. It's my old cat, an
that's his night song. D'you think l
shouldn't know his voice among a
thousand? Old Nep-you'll mind him,
Master Topp?'
l shook my head.
'',Fhe night mist has got into your
brain, Willie. You must be mistaken
here" said
''Mebbe it's Nep's ghost that's hail
ing, uncle"
"Neps ghost be hanged!' replied the
boatswain irritably, turning on this
/, last sneaker ..Hold ynur tonU,,a Tob