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[Illustration: Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer.]




_Sir Henry Morgan, BUCCANEER_

_A Romance of the Spanish Main_

_BY_

_CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY_

_Author of "For Love of Country," "For the Freedom of the Sea," "The
Southerners," "Hohenzollern," "The Quiberon Touch," "Woven with the
Ship," "In the Wasp's Nest," Etc._

[Illustration]

_Illustrations by J.N. MARCHAND and WILL CRAWFORD_

G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
THE PEARSON PUBLISHING COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY
G.W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1903, IN
GREAT BRITAIN

[_All rights reserved_]

_Sir Henry Morgan, Buccaneer_      _Issued October, 1903_


_TO MY ONLY BROTHER_

COLONEL JASPER EWING BRADY

_LATE U.S. ARMY_


    "Woe to the realms which he coasted! for there
    Was shedding of blood and rending of hair,
    Rape of maiden and slaughter of priest,
    Gathering of ravens and wolves to the feast;
    When he hoisted his standard black,
    Before him was battle, behind him wrack,
    And he burned the churches, that heathen Dane,
    To light his band to their barks again."

    SCOTT: "Harold the Dauntless."




_PREFACE_


In literature there have been romantic pirates, gentlemanly pirates,
kind-hearted pirates, even humorous pirates--in fact, all sorts and
conditions of pirates. In life there was only one kind. In this book
that kind appears. Several presentations--in the guise of novels--of
pirates, the like of which never existed on land or sea, have recently
appeared. A perusal of these interesting romances awoke in me a desire
to write a story of a real pirate, a pirate of the genuine species.

Much research for historical essays, amid ancient records and moldy
chronicles, put me in possession of a vast amount of information
concerning the doings of the greatest of all pirates; a man unique among
his nefarious brethren, in that he played the piratical game so
successfully that he received the honor of knighthood from King Charles
II. A belted knight of England, who was also a brutal, rapacious,
lustful, murderous villain and robber--and undoubtedly a pirate,
although he disguised his piracy under the name of buccaneering--is
certainly a striking and unusual figure.

Therefore, when I imagined my pirate story I pitched upon Sir Henry
Morgan as _the_ character of the romance. It will spare the critic to
admit that the tale hereinafter related is a work of the imagination,
and is not an historical romance. According to the latest accounts, Sir
Henry Morgan, by a singular oversight of Fate, who must have been
nodding at the time, died in his bed--not peacefully I trust--and was
buried in consecrated ground. But I do him no injustice, I hasten to
assure the reader, in the acts that I have attributed to him, for they
are more than paralleled by the well authenticated deeds of this human
monster. I did not even invent the blowing up of the English frigate in
the action with the Spanish ships.

If I have assumed for the nonce the attributes of that unaccountably
somnolent Fate, and brought him to a terrible end, I am sure abundant
justification will be found in the recital of his mythical misdeeds,
which, I repeat, were not a circumstance to his real transgressions.
Indeed, one has to go back to the most cruel and degenerate of the Roman
emperors to parallel the wickednesses of Morgan and his men. It is not
possible to put upon printed pages explicit statements of what they did.
The curious reader may find some account of these "Gentlemen of the
Black Flag," so far as it can be translated into present-day books
intended for popular reading, in my volume of "COLONIAL FIGHTS AND
FIGHTERS."

The writing of this novel has been by no means an easy task. How to
convey clearly the doings of the buccaneer so there could be no
misapprehension on the part of the reader, and yet to write with due
delicacy and restraint a book for the general public, has been a problem
with which I have wrestled long and arduously. The whole book has been
completely revised some six times. Each time I have deleted something,
which, while it has refined, I trust has not impaired the strength of
the tale. If the critic still find things to censure, let him pass over
charitably in view of what might have been!

As to the other characters, I have done violence to the name and fame of
no man, for all of those who played any prominent part among the
buccaneers in the story were themselves men scarcely less criminal than
Morgan. Be it known that I have simply appropriated names, not careers.
They all had adventures of their own and were not associated with Morgan
in life. Teach--I have a weakness for that bad young man--is known to
history as "Blackbeard"--a much worse man than the roaring singer of
these pages. The delectable Hornigold, the One-Eyed, with the "wild
justice" of his revenge, was another real pirate. So was the faithful
Black Dog, the maroon. So were Raveneau de Lussan, Rock Braziliano,
L'Ollonois, Velsers, Sawkins, and the rest.

In addition to my desire to write a real story of a real pirate I was
actuated by another intent. There are numberless tales of the brave days
of the Spanish Main, from "Westward Ho!" down. In every one of them,
without exception, the hero is a noble, gallant, high-souled,
high-spirited, valiant descendant of the Anglo-Saxon race, while the
villain--and such villains they are!--is always a proud and haughty
Spaniard, who comes to grief dreadfully in the final trial which
determines the issue. My sympathies, from a long course of reading of
such romances, have gone out to the under Don. I determined to write a
story with a Spanish gentleman for the hero, and a Spanish gentlewoman
for the heroine, and let the position of villain be filled by one of our
own race. Such things were, and here they are. I have dwelt with
pleasure on the love affairs of the gallant Alvarado and the beautiful
Mercedes.

But, after all, the story is preeminently the story of Morgan. I have
striven to make it a character sketch of that remarkable personality. I
wished to portray his ferocity and cruelty, his brutality and
wantonness, his treachery and rapacity; to exhibit, without lightening,
the dark shadows of his character, and to depict his inevitable and
utter breakdown finally; yet at the same time to bring out his dauntless
courage, his military ability, his fertility and resourcefulness, his
mastery of his men, his capacity as a seaman, which are qualities worthy
of admiration. Yet I have not intended to make him an admirable figure.
To do that would be to falsify history and disregard the artistic
canyons. So I have tried to show him as he was; great and brave, small
and mean, skilful and able, greedy and cruel; and lastly, in his crimes
and punishment, a coward.

And if a mere romance may have a lesson, here in this tale is one of a
just retribution, exhibited in the awful, if adequate, vengeance finally
wreaked upon Morgan by those whom he had so fearfully and dreadfully
wronged.

    CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY.

    BROOKLYN, N.Y., _December, 1902_.

    NOTE.--The date of the sack of Panama has been advanced to comply
    with the demands of this romance.




_TABLE OF CONTENTS_


BOOK I.

    HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING
    AGAIN.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    I.--Wherein Sir Henry Morgan made good use of the
    ten minutes allowed him                                          25

    II.--How Master Benjamin Hornigold, the One-Eyed,
    agreed to go with his old Captain                                45

    III.--In which Sir Henry Morgan finds himself at the head
    of a crew once more                                              65

    IV.--Which tells how the _Mary Rose_, frigate, changed
    masters and flags                                                81


BOOK II.

    THE CRUISE OF THE BUCCANEERS AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE SEAS.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    V.--How the _Mary Rose_ overhauled three Spanish treasure
    ships                                                            97

    VI.--In which is related the strange expedient of the
    Captain and how they took the great galleon                     115

    VII.--Wherein Bartholomew Sawkins mutinied against
    his Captain and what befel him on that account                 128

    VIII.--How they strove to club-haul the galleon and failed
    to save her on the coast of Caracas                             145


BOOK III.

    WHICH TREATS OF THE TANGLED LOVE AFFAIRS OF THE PEARL OF CARACAS.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    IX.--Discloses the hopeless passion between Donna Mercedes
    de Lara and Captain Dominique Alvarado,
    the Commandante of La Guayra                                    161

    X.--How Donna Mercedes tempted her lover and how he
    strove valiantly to resist her appeals                          174

    XI.--Wherein Captain Alvarado pledges his word to the
    Viceroy of Venezuela, the Count Alvaro de Lara,
    and to Don Felipe de Tobar, his friend                          190

    XII.--Shows how Donna Mercedes chose death rather than
    give up Captain Alvarado, and what befel them on
    the road over the mountains                                     200

    XIII.--In which Captain Alvarado is forsworn and with
    Donna Mercedes in his arms breaks his plighted
    word                                                            218


BOOK IV.

    IN WHICH IS RELATED AN ACCOUNT OF THE TAKING OF LA GUAYRA BY THE
    BUCCANEERS AND THE DREADFUL PERILS OF DONNA MERCEDES DE LARA AND
    CAPTAIN ALVARADO IN THAT CITY.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    XIV.--Wherein the crew of the galleon intercepts the two
    lovers by the way                                               231

    XV.--Tells how Mercedes de Lara returned the unsought
    caress of Sir Henry Morgan and the means by
    which the buccaneers surmounted the walls                       248

    XVI.--In which Benjamin Hornigold recognizes a cross and
    Captain Alvarado finds and loses a mother on the
    strand                                                          265

    XVII.--Which describes an audience with Sir Henry Morgan
    and the treachery by which Captain Alvarado
    benefited                                                       283


BOOK V.

    HOW THE SPANIARDS RE-TOOK LA GUAYRA AND HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO FOUND A
    NAME AND SOMETHING DEARER STILL IN THE CITY.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    XVIII.--Discloses the way in which Mercedes de Lara fought
    with woman's cunning against Captain Henry
    Morgan                                                          301

    XIX.--How Captain Alvarado crossed the mountains, found
    the Viceroy, and placed his life in his master's
    hands                                                           326

    XX.--Wherein Master Teach, the pirate, dies better than
    he lived                                                        347

    XXI.--The recital of how Captain Alvarado and Don Felipe
    de Tobar came to the rescue in the nick of time                 354

    XXII.--In which Sir Henry Morgan sees a cross, cherishes
    a hope, and makes a claim                                       370

    XXIII.--How the good priest, Fra Antonio de Las Casas, told
    the truth, to the great relief of Captain Alvarado
    and Donna Mercedes, and the discomfiture of
    Master Benjamin Hornigold and Sir Henry
    Morgan                                                          385

    XXIV.--In which Sir Henry Morgan appeals unavailingly
    alike to the pity of woman, the forgiveness of
    priest, the friendship of comrade, and the hatred
    of men                                                          402


BOOK VI.

    IN WHICH THE CAREER OF SIR HENRY MORGAN IS ENDED ON ISLA DE LA
    TORTUGA, TO THE GREAT DELECTATION OF MASTER BENJAMIN HORNIGOLD, HIS
    SOMETIME FRIEND.

    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

    XXV.--And last. Wherein is seen how the judgment of
    God came upon the buccaneers in the end                         421




_ILLUSTRATIONS_


BY J.N. MARCHAND

    Sir Henry Morgan--Buccaneer                              _Frontispiece_

                                                                    PAGE

    With the point of his own sword pressed against the back
    of his neck, he repeated the message which Morgan had
    given him (_see page 39_)                                        41

    Their blades crossed in an instant... There was a
    roar from Carib's pistol, and the old man fell (_see
    page 87_)                                                        89

    Morgan instantly snatched a pistol from de Lussan's hand
     and shot the man dead (_see page 138_)                         139

    Alvarado threw his right arm around her, and with a
    force superhuman dragged her from the saddle (_see
    page 217_)                                                      215

    The moonlight shone full upon her face, and as he stooped
    over he scanned it with his one eye (_see page 267_)            269

   ... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted,
    unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised,
    bleeding, but unharmed (_see page 332_)                         333

   ... he threw the contents at the feet of the buccaneer,
    and there rolled before him the severed head of
   ... his solitary friend (_see page 412_)                        413

    Hell had no terror like to this, which he, living,
    suffered (_see page 443_)                                       441


BY WILL CRAWFORD

                                                                    PAGE

    "To our next meeting, Mr. Bradley" (_see page 44_)               25

    There was one man... who did not join in the singing
    (_see page 49_)                                                  45

    Carlingford had risen in his boat... and with
    dauntless courage he shook his bared sword (_see
    page 91_)                                                        81

    The high poop and rail of the Spaniard was black with
    iron-capped men (_see page 121_)                                115

    "Wilt obey me in the future?" cried the captain (_see
    page 143_)                                                      128

    "Are you in a state for a return journey at once, senor?"
    he asked of the young officer (_see page 173_)                  161

    "The fault is mine," said Alvarado (_see page 183_)             174

    Early as it was, the Viceroy and his officers... bid
    the travelers Godspeed (_see page 200_)                         200

    During the intervals of repose the young man allowed his
    party, the two lovers were constantly together (_see
    page 224_)                                                      218

    But de Lussan shot him dead, and before the others could
    make a move, Morgan stepped safely on the sand (_see
    page 239_)                                                      241

    "Slay them, O God! Strike and spare not!" (_see
    page 281_)                                                      265

    "What would you do for him?" "My life for his," she
    answered bravely (_see page 289_)                               283

    "Hast another weapon in thy bodice?" (_see page 319_)           321

    Quite the best of the pirates, he! (_see page 351_)             347

    By an impulse... she slipped her arms around his
    neck... and kissed him (_see page 366_)                        354

    "Treachery? My lord, his was the first" (_see page 378_)        370

    "'Tis a certificate of marriage of----" (_see page 400_)        385

    "God help me!" cried Alvarado, throwing aside the
    poniard, "I cannot" (_see page 386_)                            387

    "I wanted to let you know there was water here.... There
    is not enough for both of us. Who will get it?
    I; look!" (_see page 436_)                                      437

    "Harry Morgan's way to lead--old Ben Hornigold's to
    follow--ha, ha! ho, ho!" He waded out into the
    water... (_see page 444_)                                      445




BOOK I


HOW SIR HENRY MORGAN IN HIS OLD AGE RESOLVED TO GO A-BUCCANEERING AGAIN


_SIR HENRY MORGAN, BUCCANEER_




CHAPTER I

WHEREIN SIR HENRY MORGAN MADE GOOD USE OF THE TEN MINUTES ALLOWED HIM


His Gracious Majesty, King Charles II. of England, in sportive--and
acquisitive--mood, had made him a knight; but, as that merry monarch
himself had said of another unworthy subject whom he had ennobled--his
son, by the left hand--"God Almighty could not make him a gentleman!"

[Illustration]

Yet, to the casual inspection, little or nothing appeared to be lacking
to entitle him to all the consideration attendant upon that ancient
degree. His attire, for instance, might be a year or two behind the
fashion of England and still further away from that of France, then, as
now, the standard maker in dress, yet it represented the extreme of the
mode in His Majesty's fair island of Jamaica. That it was a trifle too
vivid in its colors, and too striking in its contrasts for the best
taste at home, possibly might be condoned by the richness of the
material used and the prodigality of trimming which decorated it. Silk
and satin from the Orient, lace from Flanders, leather from Spain, with
jewels from everywhere, marked him as a person entitled to some
consideration, at least. Even more compulsory of attention, if not of
respect, were his haughty, overbearing, satisfied manner, his look of
command, the expression of authority in action he bore.

Quite in keeping with his gorgeous appearance was the richly furnished
room in which he sat in autocratic isolation, plumed hat on head,
quaffing, as became a former brother-of-the-coast and sometime
buccaneer, amazing draughts of the fiery spirits of the island of which
he happened to be, _ad interim_, the Royal Authority.

But it was his face which attested the acuteness of the sneering
observation of the unworthy giver of the royal accolade. No gentleman
ever bore face like that. Framed in long, thin, gray curls which fell
upon his shoulders after the fashion of the time, it was as cruel, as
evil, as sensuous, as ruthless, as powerful an old face as had ever
looked over a bulwark at a sinking ship, or viewed with indifference the
ravaging of a devoted town. Courage there was, capacity in large
measure, but not one trace of human kindness. Thin, lean, hawk-like,
ruthless, cunning, weather-beaten, it was sadly out of place in its
brave attire in that vaulted chamber. It was the face of a man who ruled
by terror; who commanded by might. It was the face of an adventurer,
too, one never sure of his position, but always ready to fight for it,
and able to fight well. There was a watchful, alert, inquiring look in
the fierce blue eyes, an intent, expectant expression in the craggy
countenance, that told of the uncertainties of his assumptions; yet the
lack of assurance was compensated for by the firm, resolute line of the
mouth under the trifling upturned mustache, with its lips at the same
time thin and sensual. To be fat and sensual is to appear to mitigate
the latter evil with at least a pretence at good humor; to be thin and
sensual is to be a devil. This man was evil, not with the grossness of a
debauchee but with the thinness of the devotee. And he was an old man,
too. Sixty odd years of vicious life, glossed over in the last two
decades by an assumption of respectability, had swept over the gray
hairs, which evoked no reverence.

There was a heavy frown on his face on that summer evening in the year
of our Lord, 1685. The childless wife whom he had taken for his
betterment and her worsening, some ten years since--in succession to
Satan only knew how many nameless, unrecognized precursors--had died a
few moments before, in the chamber above his head. Fairly bought from a
needy father, she had been a cloak to lend him a certain respectability
when he settled down, red with the blood of thousands whom he had slain
and rich with the treasure of cities that he had wasted, to enjoy the
evening of his life. Like all who are used for such purposes, she knew,
after a little space, the man over whom the mantle of her reputation had
been flung. She had rejoiced at the near approach of that death for
which she had been longing almost since her wedding day. That she had
shrunk from him in the very articles of dissolution when he stood by her
bedside, indicated the character of the relationship.

To witness death and to cause it had been the habit of this man. He
marked it in her case, as in others, with absolute indifference--he
cared so little for her that he did not even feel relief at her
going--yet because he was the Governor of Jamaica (really he was only
the Vice-Governor, but between the departure of the Royal Governor and
the arrival of another he held supreme power) he had been forced to keep
himself close on the day his wife died, by that public opinion to which
he was indifferent but which he could not entirely defy. Consequently he
had not been on the strand at Port Royal when the _Mary Rose_, frigate,
fresh from England, had dropped anchor in the harbor after her weary
voyage across the great sea. He did not even yet know of her arrival,
and therefore the incoming Governor had not been welcomed by the man who
sat temporarily, as he had in several preceding interregnums, in the
seats of the mighty.

However, everybody else on the island had welcomed him with joy, for of
all men who had ever held office in Jamaica Sir Henry Morgan, sometime
the chief devil of those nefarious bands who disguised their piracy
under the specious title of buccaneering, was the most detested. But
because of the fortunate demise of Lady Morgan, as it turned out, Sir
Henry was not present to greet My Lord Carlingford, who was to supersede
him--and more.

The deep potations the old buccaneer had indulged in to all outward
intent passed harmlessly down his lean and craggy throat. He drank
alone--the more solitary the drinker the more dangerous the man--yet
the room had another occupant, a tall, brawny, brown-hued, grim-faced
savage, whose gaudy livery ill accorded with his stern and ruthless
visage. He stood by the Vice-Governor, watchful, attentive, and silent,
imperturbably filling again and again the goblet from which he drank.

"More rum," said the master, at last breaking the silence while lifting
his tall glass toward the man. "Scuttle me, Black Dog," he added,
smiling sardonically at the silent maroon who poured again with steady
hand, "you are the only soul on this island who doesn't fear me. That
woman above yonder, curse her, shuddered away from me as I looked at her
dying. But your hand is steady. You and old Ben Hornigold are the only
ones who don't shrink back, hey, Carib? Is it love or hate?" he mused,
as the man made no answer. "More," he cried, again lifting the glass
which he had instantly drained.

But the maroon, instead of pouring, bent his head toward the window,
listened a moment, and then turned and lifted a warning hand. The soft
breeze of the evening, laden with the fragrance of the tropics, swept up
from the river and wafted to the Vice-Governor's ears the sound of hoof
beats on the hard, dry road. With senses keenly alert, he, also,
listened. There were a number of them, a troop possibly. They were
drawing nearer; they were coming toward his house, the slimmer house
near Spanish Town, far up on the mountain side, where he sought relief
from the enervating heats of the lower land.

"Horsemen!" he cried. "Coming to the house! Many of them! Ah, they
dismount. Go to the door, Carib."

But before the maroon could obey they heard steps on the porch. Some one
entered the hall. The door of the drawing-room was abruptly thrown open,
and two men in the uniform of the English army, with the distinguishing
marks of the Governor's Guard at Jamaica, unceremoniously entered the
room. They were fully armed. One of them, the second, had drawn his
sword and held a cocked pistol in the other hand. The first, whose
weapons were still in their sheaths, carried a long official paper with
a portentous seal dangling from it. Both were booted and spurred and
dusty from riding, and both, contrary to the custom and etiquette of the
island, kept their plumed hats on their heads.

"Sir Henry Morgan----" began the bearer of the paper.

"By your leave, gentlemen," interrupted Morgan, with an imperious wave
of his hand, "Lieutenant Hawxherst and Ensign Bradley of my guard, I
believe. You will uncover at once and apologize for having entered so
unceremoniously."

As he spoke, the Governor rose to his feet and stood by the table, his
right hand unconsciously resting upon the heavy glass flagon of rum. He
towered above the other two men as he stood there transfixing them with
his resentful glance, his brow heavy with threat and anger. But the two
soldiers made no movement toward complying with the admonition of their
sometime superior.

"D'ye hear me?" he cried, stepping forward, reddening with rage at their
apparent contumacy. "And bethink ye, sirs, had best address me, who
stand in the place of the King's Majesty, as 'Your Excellency,' or I'll
have you broke, knaves."

"We need no lessons in manners from you, Sir Henry Morgan," cried
Hawxherst, angry in turn to be so browbeaten, though yesterday he would
have taken it mildly enough. "And know by this, sir," lifting the paper,
"that you are no longer Governor of this island, and can claim respect
from no one."

"What do you mean?"

"The _Mary Rose_ frigate arrived this morning, bringing Lord Carlingford
as His Majesty's new Governor, and this order of arrest."

"Arrest? For whom?"

"For one Sir Henry Morgan."

"For what, pray?"

"Well, sir, for murder, theft, treason--the catalogue fills the paper.
You are to be despatched to England to await the King's pleasure. I am
sent by Lord Carlingford to fetch you to the jail at Port Royal."

"You seem to find it a pleasant task."

"By heaven, I do, sir!" cried the soldier fiercely. "I am a gentleman
born, of the proudest family in the Old Dominion, and have been forced
to bow and scrape and endure your insults and commands, you bloody
villain, but now----"

"'Tis no part of a soldier's duty, sir, to insult a prisoner,"
interrupted Morgan, not without a certain dignity. He was striving to
gain time to digest this surprising piece of news and thinking deeply
what was to be done in this entirely unexpected crisis.

"Curse it all, Hawxherst!" Ensign Bradley burst out, pulling at the
sleeve of his superior. "You go too far, man; this is unseemly."

Hawxherst passed his hand across his brow and by an effort somewhat
regained his self-control.

"Natheless 'tis in this paper writ that you are to go to England a
prisoner on the _Mary Rose_, to await the King's pleasure," he added,
savagely.

"His Gracious Majesty hath laid his sword upon my shoulder. I am a
knight of his English court, one who has served him well upon the seas.
His coffers have I enriched by--but let that pass. I do not believe that
King Charles, God bless him----"

"Stop! The _Mary Rose_ brings the news that King Charles II. is dead,
and there reigns in his stead His Gracious Majesty King James."

"God rest the soul of the King!" cried Morgan, lifting his hat from his
head. "He was a merry and a gallant gentleman. I know not this James.
How if I do not go with you?"

"You have ten minutes in which to decide, sir," answered Hawxherst.

"And then?"

"Then if I don't bring you forth, the men of yonder troop will come in
without further order. Eh, Bradley?"

"Quite so, Sir Henry," answered the younger man. "And every avenue of
escape is guarded. Yield you, sir; believe me, there's naught else."

"I have ten minutes then," said the old man reflectively, "ten minutes!
Hum!"

"You may have," answered the captain curtly, "if you choose to take so
long. And I warn you," he added, "that you'd best make use of that time
to bid farewell to Lady Morgan or give other order for the charge of
your affairs, for 'twill be a long time, I take it, before you are back
here again."

"Lady Morgan is dead, gentlemen, in the room above."

At this young Bradley removed his hat, an example which Hawxherst
followed a moment after. They had always felt sorry for the unfortunate
wife of the buccaneer.

"As for my affairs, they can wait," continued Morgan slowly. "The game
is not played out yet, and perchance I shall have another opportunity to
arrange them. Meanwhile, fetch glasses, Carib, from yonder buffet."

He nodded toward a huge sideboard which stood against the wall
immediately in the rear of Ensign Bradley, and at the same time shot a
swift, meaning glance at the maroon, which was not lost upon him as he
moved rapidly and noiselessly in obedience.

"Gentlemen, will you drink with me to our next merry meeting?" he
continued, turning to them.

"We're honest soldiers, honorable gentlemen, and we'll drink with no
murderer, no traitor!" cried Hawxherst promptly.

"So?" answered Morgan, his eye sparkling with baleful light, although he
remained otherwise entirely unmoved.

"And let me remind you," continued the soldier, "that your time is
passing."

"Well, keep fast the glasses, Carib, the gentlemen have no fancy for
drinking. I suppose, sirs, that I must fain yield me, but first let me
look at your order ere I surrender myself peaceably to you," said the
deposed Governor, with surprising meekness.

"Indeed, sir----"

"'Tis my right."

"Well, perchance it may be. There can be no harm in it, I think; eh,
Bradley?" queried the captain, catching for the moment his subaltern's
eye.

Then, as the latter nodded his head, the former extended the paper to
Morgan. At that instant the old buccaneer shot one desperate glance at
the maroon, who stood back of the shoulder of the officer with the drawn
sword and pistol. As Hawxherst extended the paper, Morgan, with the
quickness of an albatross, grasped his wrist with his left hand, jerked
him violently forward, and struck him a vicious blow on the temple with
the heavy glass decanter, which shivered in his hand. Hawxherst pitched
down at the Governor's feet, covered with blood and rum. So powerful had
been Morgan's blow that the brains of the man had almost been beaten
out. He lay shuddering and quivering on the floor. Quickly as Morgan
struck, however, Carib had been quicker. As the glass crashed against
the temple