Well was it for the buccaneers, that the wind
died away, which had brought into sight so
rapidly the Spanish caravellas; for had the
four tall frigates which, deserted by the sea
breeze, were soon obliged to drop their anchors
at the very entrance of the bay, four miles at
least from the vessels of the pirates—been able
to run in, the small light picaroons of the Rovers,
heavily armed although they were in
proportion to their rate and burden, would
have stood but a sorry chance, hemmed in
between the heavy batteries of those floating
castles to the seaward, and the yet heavier
cannon of the ramparts, should they attempt to
run into shoal water.

It was evident, moreover, that the newlyarrived
ships were already in no small degree
suspicious of the character and intentions of
the squadron moored in shore; as appeared
from the quick interchange of signals, between
the Spanish flag-ship, which was the first to
anchor, and her comrades. In obedience to
these signals, the four tall vessels came to anchor,
all nearly in a line, at equal distances
across the harbor, so as to render escape difficult,
if not impossible—and in a few moments
afterward, in consequence of a fresh signal
shown at the mast-head, a second cable was
carried out from the stern of every frigate, and
she was warped round, till she lay broadside
to the bay with all her frowning batteries commanding
the long expanse of water, across
which the picaroons must sail exposed to their
raking fire, if they should seek to force a
passage. The distance and the apparently
hopeless position of the buccaneers preventing
the Spaniards, as it would seem, from sending
their boats' crews to ascertain their character,
if not to cut them out and capture them.

It must not be supposed that it took the
keen and practised intellect of Ringwood so
long a time to apprehend his own position, and
the intentions of the enemy, as it has occupied
us to describe them. On the contrary, they
had not dropped their anchors, before he had
envisaged fully the extent of his own danger,
and calculated accurately the chances of effecting
his escape, under circumstances which
seemed so unpromising. Forming his men
into four columns, he commanded them to retreat
by turns, one body facing the ramparts
with levelled arquebuse, and pike in rest,
while another fell back, till they had all reached
the gravelly margin of the bay. Then
judging from the movements on the walls and
above the gate, that a sally was about to be
attempted, he strode out alone, till he was
within earshot, and then shouted aloud—

“Beware!—beware how ye raise gate, or
lower bridge, or do but so much as to threaten
our retreat!—for as ye do so, by Him who
knoweth all things! the fate of this crushed
clay,”—and he pointed with a meaning smile
to the dead body of the young Melendez—“the
fate of this crushed clay shall be a lot of perfect
bliss compared with that which shall light
on your sweet daughter!” And with the
words he fell back slowly to his men, the
greater part of whom were already on board
their boats, leaving the Spaniards dispirited,
and faint, and sick with hope deferred. Within
a short half hour, the whole flotilla was in
motion, dashing up the clear azure of the
peaceful bay, with hundreds of strong oars,
and ere the hour was well accomplished, each
picaroon had received its complement, had
hoisted in its boats, and lay, all hands at quarters,
ready for action.

When Ringwood reached the deck of his
felucca, ordering that his captive should be
conveyed without delay to his own private
cabin, he took to his perspective glass and
gazed steadily and long toward the Spanish caravellas,
and far beyond them towards the open
sea.

“A mist!” he cried anon, after examining
both sea and sky with anxious scrutiny—“a
mist, coming in slowly from the seaward!—
masthead there!—signalize the captains of the
squadron to come aboard me here to council,”—
and with the word up went three balls
to the masthead, and bursting as they reached
the summit, streamed out for one moment
three bright contrasted signals. Within five
minutes after, a little cutter might be seen to be
launched from the side of every picaroon, and
darting towards the principal felucca, as fast as
oars could urge it through the water; yet still
the Rover swept the horizon round and round
with his telescope, minutely watching every
sign and symptom of the weather, fixing his
gaze most constantly on a point directly landward,
where just above the tree-tops one small
dark cloud with snow-white edges was visible—
quite motionless—and unconnected, as it
seemed, with any mass of vapor, the single
frown of the bright laughing heavens—the
single frown, full of dread menace. Just as

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

the first of the small pinnaces came alongside,
his scrutiny was ended, and he closed his
glass, saying to himself with a quiet smile of
satisfaction:

“A mist forthwith from the sea-ward—and
when the sunset is fully passed, a hurricane
and land tornado! Ha! Master Cunninghame,”
he added, as his second in command
stepped on board, a handsome, fresh-complexioned,
fair-haired Saxon. “Ha! Monsieur Le
Fort—welcome, good friends and comrades
Winslow and Drake! welcome, friends, all!
I have convoked you hither to study how we
may escape scot-free from these toils, that now
seem set so close about us. And before heaven!—
I hold the clue, my masters. See ye,
how dark this sea-mist is now gathering?
The Spaniards must lie still till it blow over—
and then look yonder, to the bright edges
of yon black cloud. Ere midnight we shall
have a land tornado—then must you Spanish
lubbers slip their stern cables, and swing head
to sea; and then will we run up to them
under slight storm-sails, and, it may be, slip
by them unperceived in the deep gloom—if
not engage them and force passage. Lo! here,
my masters, when I shall fire a bow gun hold all
ready to cut or slip your cables! and when
I hoist three lanthorns at my main, then run!
You, Drake and Winslow, since that your
vessels draw least water, steer you betwixt the
headlands of the hay, on the right hand and
left, and those two outward frigates. I will
steer straight between the central two; ye,
Cunninghame and Le Fort, make good your
way between the others, on either hand of
me—when ye are all at sea, fire each a weather
gun, and burn a blue light and three rockets—
then each make all sail for the inlet,
and so huzza for home! And one word
more, my friends, before we part—it will blow
sturdily, I warrant me—send down all light
spars and top hamper—have your ships snug
and easy, with naught abroad but a small rag
of head-sail, so to steer. Have out your
sweeps, too,—to get yourselves before the
wind, if need be—none may tell certainly
where the tornado may strike first—farewell,
be brave and fortunate, and see ye reach
your vessels ere this fog commence, since of
a surety ye scarce will find their berths, when
once the mist gets settled. So, my friends,
once more, fare ye well!”

And with these words, accustomed long
ago to place complete reliance on the opinion
of that skilful navigator, and to yield with instinctive
readiness to his least mandate, his
four commanders entered their boats, and
hurried to their several vessels, although in
truth they saw no symptoms—even when
pointed out by his unerring judgment—of
the approaching changes in the weather which
their great chief prognosticated so decidedly.
Not long was it, however, that they doubted,
if indeed it may be said that they did doubt at
all; for though they marvelled, and looked
anxiously about to note some confirmation
of their leader's prophecy, they did not for a
moment presume to doubt their leader's accuracy—
for ere they had all reached their vessels,
the thin haze which had for some time
floated on the extreme horizon's edge, grew
thick and heavy—and by and by came rolling
onward in deep and ponderous masses,
although no breath of air could be discovered,
by which it was urged landward; and
the whole atmosphere grew damp and watery.
Then one by one the caravellas of the enemy
were swallowed up in the dense gloom, and
then their own low rakish picaroons became
so indistinct and dim, that those which lay
furthest from the felucca of the great English
buccaneer were not reached by their officers
without much difficulty and some hazard.
Long before sunset, nothing was visible from
the deck of any one of that small pirate squadron,
but the calm surface of the unmoved sea,
and that within a circle of only some fifty
yards at the utmost, beyond which all was one
dead drowsy mass of impenetrable vapor.
Yet so well had the officers taken the bearings
of the enemy, of the headlands, and of their
consorts, that there was not one of their number
who was not as fully acquainted with the
position of everything about him, as he could
have been had the whole scene been laughing
out in clear broad sunshine.

All day the crews were mustered, and toiling
at their several stations, and night was advanced
somewhat, ere all the preparations
were completed; the loftier spars sent down,
the masts housed safely, and the lighter sails
unbent, the rigging taughtened, and the masts
fortified with preventers against the coming
tempest; the guns run out and loaded, the
matches lighted, and the armed crews at quarters;
the heavy sweeps already in the water
and ready, at a word's notice, to be worked
by powerful strong-handed gangs; the carpenter
and his stout mates, prepared with
their broad axes to sever the strong cables at a
blow, and let the gallant barks shoot sea-ward!

The sun had long since sunk into the
waves, and the deep palpable obscure of night
been added to the gloom of the thick fogwreaths—
no stars were in the sky, no moon,
“hid in her vacant interlunar cave,” hung
forth her silver lamp in the dark vault; for
clouds, heavy and packed and solid, had long
since overspread the sky, though not a human
eye had marked them, swelling from out that
one small spot of vapor, till they had blotted
out each light of the broad empyrean, from
the horizon upward to the zenith. Midnight
was near at hand—when a deep, rumbling
roar, as of ten thousand chariots rolling upon

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

a strong causeway, rushed up from the landward;
and, after filling the air for some short
space, sank gradually down into a faint, sick
moan—unlike to any sound of earth, or air, or
water. It ceased; and as it did so the sharp
and ringing discharge of a long brazen culverin
burst in a sheet of flame from the lee bow-port
of the Rover's galley—and scarcely had its
echoes died away, before a wide, blue sulphurous
glare seemed to rush downward bodily
from the black skies with such a roar of thunder,
crash upon crash, and peal succeeding
peal, as stunned the sternest soul. In a moment,
in the twinkling of an eye, the misty
wreaths were swept sea-ward and vanished;
leaving, however, the night quite as dark as
ever; and as they did so, up shot to Ringwood's
mainmast head three glittering lanthorns—
sparkled there for a moment—and
were quenched instantly, by the fierce whirling
breath of the tornado. Bearing on its mad
pinions huge limbs fresh rent from the tall
forest trees, whirling the level surface of the
calm bay into a series of huge and snow-capped
billows, and anon sweeping away the
heads of those vast waves, and beating them
down bodily into the deep, till the whole
bosom of the sea was one wide, white expanse
of scattering, hissing spray—roaring and
howling—yea! yelling in its furious might—
soon came the tropical tornado! But every
cable was cut sheer, before it struck the
water, throughout the Rover's squadron—the
sweeps were out and manned; the picaroons
all under weigh and steering, when the fierce
blast fell on their naked spars and scanty canvas,
and drove them, like beings full of fiery
life, bounding across the waters.

When the mist cleared away, the Spanish
caravellas were descried, not by their outlines—
for no human eye could trace an outline
against the swart gloom of the sky—but by
the broad glare of the battle lanthorns, gleaming
out from their open port-holes, as they
lay broadside towards the bay, all manned
and cleared for action; so that her course
was definite and clear to each one of the picaroons.

But when the dreadful howl of the tornado
came raving through the tortured air, their
stern springs were all slipped at once, and
they came heavily round, head to sea, upon
the instant; and more cable was paid out;
and though they rolled and labored fearfully,
yet they rode still secure, amid the frightful
uproar.

No light was seen, no voice or sound was
heard on deck of any one of Ringwood's squadron;
as driving with the speed of light before
the raging hurricane, they neared the lofty
Spaniards—but loud and violent was the confusion
and the din aboard the castled caravellas.
Unseen and unsuspected, leading the
van of his little fleet, the Rover rushed into
the space between the central frigates, and so
rapidly did he shoot through, betwixt those
motionless and vast masses, that the scared
crews had scarcely time to note his transit;
yet did the fearful volley, which he poured
forth from each broadside, as he rushed past,
plunge fatally and fast into their clustered masts—
and when they sprang in tarn to their guns,
and fired their answering salvos, the picaroon
had shot already a cable's length ahead, and
the two Spanish ships received each other's
shot, thinning their crews more fatally than
had the Rover's broadside, cutting away their
rigging, piercing their castled sides, and shearring
their spars fearfully of their dimensions.
Under the cover of this disastrous chance,
Cunninghame and Le Fort passed undiscovered,
with their guns undischarged, within
half pistol shot on the outside of these same
two caravellas; and when the Rover, half a
mile now to sea-ward, fired his weather gun,
burnt his blue lights, and sent his rockets up
kindling the murky skies with their clear
sparkles, these two responded on the instant,
with ready tokens of their safety. Almost at
the same point of time a heavy cannonade
was heard from the two outward caravellas,
and scarce ten minutes later, the two remaining
picaroons signalled their comrades through
the gloom.

Such was the desperate and daring feat,
long famous as the master deed of naval warfare
in that remote and early age, by which
the English buccaneer ran, with five petty
picaroons, the gauntlet of Spain's noblest caravellas,
in safety and triumph—losing no man,
no spar, no rope, how trivial it might be soever,
bearing his captive with him, and leaving to
his baffled foes sorrow, and anguish, and despair.

Ere long the hurricane subsided, but still
the breeze blew swift, and sure, and steady—
and swiftly danced the roving barques before
it. All night it blew, and all night long the
Rover paced the deck; but when the daylight
broke over the foaming ocean, and when he
swept the free horizon with his glass, and
saw his coasorts dancing merrily behind him,
and not a sail save theirs in sight, whether of
foe or stranger, he gave his deck in charge to
the next officer, and sought his private cabin,
and his unhappy captive.