CHAPTER XI
THE MEETING ON THE SEA
For another minute or more the _San Antonio_ held on until she divinedthe desperate purpose of her foe. Then, seeing that soon the carack'sprow must crash into her frail side, she shifted her helm and came roundseveral points, so that in the end the _Margaret_ ran, not into her, butalongside of her, grinding against her planking, and shearing away agreat length of her bulwark. For a few seconds they hung together thus,and, before the seas bore them apart, grapnels were thrown from the_Margaret_ whereof one forward got hold and brought them bow to bow.Thus the end of the bowsprit of the _Margaret_ projected over the highdeck of the _San Antonio_.
"Now for it," said Peter. "Follow me, all." And springing up, he ran tothe bowsprit and began to swarm along it.
It was a fearful task. One moment the great seas lifted him high intothe air, and the next down he came again till the massive spar crashedon to the deck of the _San Antonio_ with such a shock that he nearlyflew from it like a stone from a sling. Yet he hung on, and, biding hischance, seized a broken stay-rope that dangled from the end of thebowsprit like a lash from a whip, and began to slide down it. The galecaught him and blew him to and fro; the vessel, pitching wildly, jerkedhim into the air; the deck of the _San Antonio_ rose up and receded likea thing alive. It was near--not a dozen feet beneath him--and loosinghis hold he fell upon the forward tower without being hurt then, gaininghis feet, ran to the broken mast and flinging his left arm about it,with the other drew his sword.
Next instant--how, he never knew--Castell was at his side, and after himcame two more men, but one of these rolled from the deck into the seaand was lost. As he vanished, the chain of the grappling iron parted,and the _Margaret_ swung away from them, leaving those three alone inthe power of their foes, nor, do what she would, could she make fastagain. As yet, however, there were no Spaniards to be seen, for thereason that none had dared to stand upon this high tower whereof thebulwarks were all gone, while the bowsprit of the _Margaret_ crasheddown upon it like a giant's club, and, as she rolled, swept it withits point.
So there they stood, clinging to the mast and waiting for the end, fornow their friends were a hundred yards away, and they knew that theircase was desperate. A shower of arrows came, loosed from other parts ofthe ship, and one of these struck the man with them through the throat,so that he fell to the deck clasping at it, and presently rolled intothe sea also. Another pierced Castell through his right forearm, causinghis sword to drop and slide away from him. Peter seized the arrow,snapped it in two, and drew it out; but Castell's right arm was nowhelpless, and with his left he could do no more than cling to thebroken mast.
"We have done our best, son," he said, "and failed. Margaret will learnthat we would have saved her if we could, but we shall not meether here."
Peter ground his teeth, and looked about him desperately, for he had nowords to say. What should he do? Leave Castell and rush for the waist ofthe ship and so perish, or stay and die there? Nay, he would not bebutchered like a bird on a bough, he would fall fighting.
"Farewell," he called through the gale. "God rest our souls!" Then,waiting till the ship steadied herself, he ran aft, and reaching theladder that led to her tower, staggered down it to the waist of thevessel, and at its foot halted, holding to the rail.
The scene before him was strange enough, for there, ranged round thebulwarks, were the Spanish men, who watched him curiously, whilst a fewpaces away, resting against the mast, stood d'Aguilar, who lifted hishand, in which there was no weapon, and addressed him.
"Senor Brome," he shouted, "do not move another step or you are a deadman. Listen to me first, and then do what you will. Am I safe from yoursword while I speak?"
Peter nodded his head in assent, and d'Aguilar drew nearer, for even inthat more sheltered place it was hard to hear because of the howling ofthe tempest.
"Senor," he said to Peter, "you are a very brave man, and have done adeed such as none of us have seen before; therefore, I wish to spare youif I may. Also, I have worked you bitter wrong, driven to it by themight of love and jealousy, for which reason also I wish to spare you.To set upon you now would be but murder, and, whatever else I do, I willnot murder. First, let me ease your mind. Your lady and mine is aboardhere; but fear not, she has come and will come to no harm from me, orfrom any man while I live. If for no other reason, I do not desire toaffront one who, I hope, will be my wife by her own free will, and whomI have brought to Spain that she might not make this impossible bybecoming yours. Senor, believe me, I would no more force a woman's willthan I would do murder on her lover."
"What did you, then, when you snatched her from her home by some foultrick?" asked Peter fiercely.
"Senor, I did wrong to her and all of you, for which I would makeamends."
"What amends? Will you give her back to me?"
"No, that I cannot do, even if she should wish it, of which I am notsure; no--never while I live."
"Bring her forth, and let us hear whether she wishes it or no," shoutedPeter, hoping that his words would reach Margaret.
But d'Aguilar only smiled and shook his head, then went on:
"That I cannot either, for it would give her pain. Still, Senor, I willrepay the heavy debt that I owe to you, and to you also, Senor." And hebowed towards Castell who, unseen by Peter, had crept down the ladder,and now stood behind him staring at d'Aguilar with cold rage andindignation. "You have wrought us much damage, have you not? hunting usacross the seas, and killing sundry of us with your arrows, and now youhave striven to board our ship and put us to the sword, a design inwhich God has frustrated you. Therefore your lives are justly forfeit,and none would blame us if we slew you. Yet I spare you both. If it ispossible I will put you back aboard the _Margaret_, and if it is notpossible you shall be set free ashore to go unmolested whither you will.Thus I will wipe out my debt and be free of all reproach."
"Do you take me for such a man as yourself?" asked Peter, with a bitterlaugh. "I do not leave this ship alive unless my affianced wife,Mistress Margaret, goes with me."
"Then, Senor Brome, I fear that you will leave it dead, as indeed we mayall of us, unless we make land soon, for the vessel is filling fast withwater. Still, knowing your metal, I looked for some such words from you,and am prepared with another offer which I am sure you will not refuse.Senor, our swords are much of the same length, shall we measure themagainst each other? I am a grandee of Spain, the Marquis of Morella, andit will, therefore, be no dishonour for you to fight with me."
"I am not so sure," said Peter, "for I am more than that--an honest manof England, who never practised woman-stealing. Still, I will fight yougladly, at sea or on shore, wherever and whenever we meet, till one orboth are dead. But what is the stake, and how do I know that some ofthese," and he pointed to the crew, who were listening intently, "willnot stab me from behind?"
"Senor, I have told you that I do not murder, and that would be thefoulest murder. As for the stake, it is Margaret to the victor. If youkill me, on behalf of all my company, I swear by our Saviour's Bloodthat you shall depart with her and her father unharmed, and if I killyou, then you both shall swear that she shall be left with me, and nosuit or question raised but to her woman I give liberty, who have seenmore than enough of her."
"Nay," broke in Castell, speaking for the first time "I demand the rightto fight with you also when my arm is healed."
"I refuse it," answered d'Aguilar haughtily. "I cannot lift my swordagainst an old man who is the father of the maid who shall be my wife,and, moreover, a merchant and a Jew. Nay, answer me not, lest all theseshould remember your ill words. I will be generous, and leave you out ofthe oath. Do your worst against me, Master Castell, and then leave me todo my worst against you. Senor Brome, the light grows bad, and the watergains upon us. Say, are you ready?"
Peter nodded his head, and they stepped forward.
"One more word," said d'Aguilar, dropping his sword-point. "My friends,you have heard our compact. Do you swea
r to abide by it, and, if I fall,to set these two men and the two ladies free on their own ship or on theland, for the honour of chivalry and of Spain?"
The captain of the _San Antonio_ and his lieutenants answered that theyswore on behalf of all the crew.
"You hear, Senor Brome. Now these are the conditions--that we fight tothe death, but, if both of us should be hurt or wounded, so that wecannot despatch each other, then no further harm shall be done to eitherof us, who shall be tended till we recover or die by the will of God."
"You mean that we must die on each other's swords or not at all, and ifany foul chance should overtake either, other than by his adversary'shand, that adversary shall not dispatch him?"
"Yes, Senor, for in our case such things may happen," and he pointed tothe huge seas that towered over them, threatening to engulf thewater-logged caravel. "We will take no advantage of each other, who wishto fight this quarrel out with our own right arms."
"So be it," said Peter, "and Master Castell here is the witness to ourbargain."
D'Aguilar nodded, kissed the cross-hilt of his sword in confirmation ofthe pact, bowed courteously, and put himself on his defence.
For a moment they stood facing each other, a well-matched pair--Peter,lean, fierce-faced, long-armed, a terrible man to see in the fiery lightthat broke upon him from beneath the edge of a black cloud; the Spaniardtall also, and agile, but to all appearance as unconcerned as thoughthis were but a pleasure bout, and not a duel to the death with awoman's fate hanging on the hazard. D'Aguilar wore a breastplate ofgold-inlaid black steel and a helmet, while Peter had but his tunic ofbull's hide and iron-lined cap, though his straight cut-and-thrust swordwas heavier and mayhap half an inch longer than that of his foe.
Thus, then, they stood while Castell and all the ship's company, savethe helmsman who steered her to the harbour's mouth, clung to thebulwarks and the cordage of the mainmast, and, forgetful of their ownperil, watched in utter silence.
It was Peter who thrust the first, straight at the throat, but d'Aguilarparried deftly, so that the sword point went past his neck, and beforeit could be drawn back again, struck at Peter. The blow fell upon theside of his steel cap, and glanced thence to his left shoulder, but,being light, did him no harm. Swiftly came the answer, which was notlight, for it fell so heavily upon d'Aguilar's breastplate, that hestaggered back. After him sprang Peter, thinking that the game was his,but at that moment the ship, which had entered the breakers of theharbour bar, rolled terribly, and sent them both reeling to thebulwarks. Nor did she cease her rolling, so that, smiting and thrustingwildly, they staggered backwards and forwards across the deck, grippingwith their left hands at anything they could find to steady them, tillat length, bruised and breathless, they fell apart unwounded, andrested awhile.
"An ill field this to fight on, Senor," gasped d'Aguilar.
"I think that it will serve our turn," said Peter grimly, and rushed athim like a bull. It was just then that a great sea came aboard the ship,a mass of green water which struck them both and washed them like strawsinto the scuppers, where they rolled half drowned. Peter rose the first,coughing out salt water, and rubbing it from his eyes, to see d'Aguilarstill upon the deck, his sword lying beside him, and holding his rightwrist with his left hand.
"Who gave you the hurt?" he asked, "I or your fall?"
"The fall, Senor," answered d'Aguilar; "I think that it has broken mywrist. But I have still my left hand. Suffer me to arise, and we willfinish this fray."
As the words passed his lips a gust of wind, more furious than any thathad gone before, concentrated as it was through a gorge in themountains, struck the caravel at the very mouth of the harbour, and laidher over on her beam ends. For a while it seemed as though she mustcapsize and sink, till suddenly her mainmast snapped like a stick andwent overboard, when, relieved of its weight, by slow degrees sherighted herself. Down upon the deck came the cross yard, one end of itcrashing through the roof of the cabin in which Margaret and Betty wereconfined, splitting it in two, while a block attached to the other fellupon the side of Peter's head and, glancing from the steel cap, struckhim on the neck and shoulder, hurling him senseless to the deck, where,still grasping his sword, he lay with arms outstretched.
Out of the ruin of the cabin appeared Margaret and Betty, the formervery pale and frightened, and the latter muttering prayers, but, as itchanced, both uninjured. Clinging to the tangled ropes they creptforward, seeking refuge in the waist of the ship, for the heavy sparstill worked and rolled above them, resting on the wreck of the cabinand the bulwarks, whence presently it slid into the sea. By the stump ofthe broken mainmast they halted, their long locks streaming in the gale,and here it was that Margaret caught sight of Peter lying upon his back,his face red with blood, and sliding to and fro as the vessel rolled.
She could not speak, but in mute appeal pointed first to him and then tod'Aguilar, who stood near, remembering as she did so her vision in thehouse at Holborn, which was thus terribly fulfilled. Holding to a rope,d'Aguilar drew near to her and spoke into her ear. "Lady," he said,"this is no deed of mine. We were fighting a fair fight, for he hadboarded the ship when the mast fell and killed him. Blame me not for hisdeath, but seek comfort from God."
She heard, and, looking round her wildly, perceived her fatherstruggling towards her; then, with a bitter cry, fell senseless onhis breast.