Stolen Treasure | Page 3

some to the galleys, some
to the mines, some to no man knows where. The Governor himself--Le
Sieur Simon--was to be sent to Spain, there to stand his trial for piracy.
The news of all this, I may tell you, had only just been received in
Jamaica, having been brought thither by a Spanish captain, one Don
Roderiguez Sylvia, who was, besides, the bearer of despatches to the
Spanish authorities relating the whole affair.
Such, in fine, was the purport of this interview, and as our hero and his
Captain walked back together from the Governor's house to the
ordinary where they had taken up their inn, the buccaneer assured his
companion that he purposed to obtain those despatches from the
Spanish captain that very afternoon, even if he had to use force to seize
them.
All this, you are to understand, was undertaken only because of the
friendship that the Governor and Captain Morgan entertained for Le
Sieur Simon. And, indeed, it was wonderful how honest and how
faithful were these wicked men in their dealings with one another. For
you must know that Governor Modiford and Le Sieur Simon and the
buccaneers were all of one kidney--all taking a share in the piracies of
those times, and all holding by one another as though they were the
honestest men in the world. Hence it was they were all so determined to
rescue Le Sieur Simon from the Spaniards.
III
Having reached his ordinary after his interview with the Governor,
Captain Morgan found there a number of his companions, such as
usually gathered at that place to be in attendance upon him--some,
those belonging to the Good Samaritan; others, those who hoped to
obtain benefits from him; others, those ragamuffins who gathered
around him because he was famous, and because it pleased them to be

of his court and to be called his followers. For nearly always your
successful pirate had such a little court surrounding him.
Finding a dozen or more of these rascals gathered there, Captain
Morgan informed them of his present purpose--that he was going to
find the Spanish captain to demand his papers of him, and calling upon
them to accompany him.
With this following at his heels, our buccaneer started off down the
street, his lieutenant, a Cornishman named Bartholomew Davis, upon
one hand and our hero upon the other. So they paraded the streets for
the best part of an hour before they found the Spanish captain. For
whether he had got wind that Captain Morgan was searching for him,
or whether, finding himself in a place so full of his enemies, he had
buried himself in some place of hiding, it is certain that the buccaneers
had traversed pretty nearly the whole town before they discovered that
he was lying at a certain auberge kept by a Portuguese Jew. Thither
they went, and thither Captain Morgan entered with the utmost
coolness and composure of demeanor, his followers crowding noisily in
at his heels.
The space within was very dark, being lighted only by the doorway and
by two large slatted windows or openings in the front.
In this dark, hot place--not over-roomy at the best--were gathered
twelve or fifteen villanous-appearing men, sitting at tables and drinking
together, waited upon by the Jew and his wife. Our hero had no trouble
in discovering which of this lot of men was Captain Sylvia, for not only
did Captain Morgan direct his glance full of war upon him, but the
Spaniard was clad with more particularity and with more show of
finery than any of the others who were there.
Him Captain Morgan approached and demanded his papers, whereunto
the other replied with such a jabber of Spanish and English that no man
could have understood what he said. To this Captain Morgan in turn
replied that he must have those papers, no matter what it might cost
him to obtain them, and thereupon drew a pistol from his sling and
presented it at the other's head.

At this threatening action the innkeeper's wife fell a-screaming, and the
Jew, as in a frenzy, besought them not to tear the house down about his
ears.
Our hero could hardly tell what followed, only that all of a sudden there
was a prodigious uproar of combat. Knives flashed everywhere, and
then a pistol was fired so close to his head that he stood like one
stunned, hearing some one crying out in a loud voice, but not knowing
whether it was a friend or a foe who had been shot. Then another
pistol-shot so deafened what was left of Master Harry's hearing that his
ears rang for above an hour afterwards. By this time the whole place
was full of gunpowder smoke, and there was the sound of blows