«Indeed, yes. That is true.» The dullard's wits, however, were barren of ideas. «The question now is what might be considered worthy?»
Frey Alonso suggested a ball at Government House, and was applauded in this by Dona Hernanda. Don Pedro, apologetically to the lady, thought a ball would have significance only for those who were bidden to it. Something was required that should impress all social orders in Porto Rico.
«Why not an amnesty?» he inquired at last.
«An amnesty?» The three of them looked at him in questioning wonder.
«Why not? It is a royal gesture — true. But is not a governor in some sort royal, a viceroy, a representative of royalty, the one to whom men look for royal gestures? To mark your accession to this dignity, throw open your gaols, Don Jayme, as do kings upon their coronation.»
Don Jayme conquered his stupefaction at the magnitude of the act suggested, and smote the table with his fist, protesting that here was a notion worth adopting. To–morrow he would announce it in a proclamation, and set all prisoners free, their sentences remitted.
«That is,» he added, «all but six, whose pardon would hardly please the colony.»
«I think,» said Don Pedro, «that exceptions would stultify the act. There should be no exceptions.»
«But these are exceptional prisoners. Can you have forgotten that I told you I had made captive six buccaneers out of a party that had the temerity to land on Porto Rico!»
Don Pedro frowned, reflecting. «Ah, true!» he cried at last. «I remember.»
«And did I tell you, sir, that one of these men is that dog Wolverstone?» He pronounced it Wolverstone.
«Wolverstone?» said Don Pedro, who also pronounced it Wolverstohn. «You have captured Wolverstone!» It was clear that he was profoundly impressed; as well he might be, for Wolverstone, who was nowadays the foremost of Blood's lieutenants, was almost as well known to Spaniards and as detested by them as Blood himself. «You have captured Wolverstone!» he repeated, and for the first time looked at Don Jayme with eyes of unmistakable respect. «You did not tell me that. Why, in that case, my friend, you have clipped one of Blood's wings. Without Wolverstone he is shorn of half his power. His own destruction may follow now at any moment, and Spain will owe that to you.»
Don Jayme spread his hands in an affectation of modesty. «It is something towards deserving the honour his Majesty has bestowed upon me.»
«Something?» echoed Don Pedro. «If the King had known this, he might have accounted the order of Saint James of Compostella inadequate.»
Dona Hernanda looked at him sharply, to see whether he dealt in irony. But he seemed quite sincere, so much so that for once he had shed the hauteur in which he usually arrayed himself. He resumed after a moment's pause.
«Of course, of course, you cannot include these men in the amnesty. They are not common malefactors. They are enemies of Spain.» Abruptly, with a hint of purpose, he asked: «How will you deal with them?»
Don Jayme thrust out a nether lip considering. «I am still undecided whether to hang them out of hand, or to let Frey Alonso hold his auto de fe upon them and consign them to the fire as heretics. I think I told you so.»
«Yes, yes. But I did not then know that Wolverstone is one of them. That makes a difference.»
«What difference?»
«Oh, but consider. Give this matter thought. With thought you'll see for yourself what you should do. It's plain enough.»
Don Jayme considered awhile as he was bidden. Then shrugged his shoulders.
«Faith, sir, it may be plain enough to you. But I confess that I see no choice beyond that of rope or fire.»
«Ultimately, yes. One or the other. But not here in Porto Rico. That is to smother the effulgence of your achievement. Send them to Spain, Don Jayme. Send them to his Majesty, as an earnest of the zeal for which he has been pleased to honour you. Show him thus how richly you deserve that honour and even greater honours. Let that be your acknowledgment.»
Don Jayme was staring at him with dilating eyes. His face glowed. «I vow to Heaven I should never have thought of it,» he said at last.
«Your modesty made you blind to the opportunity.»
«It may be that,» Don Jayme admitted.
«But you perceive it now that I indicate it?»
«Oh, I perceive it. Yes, the King of Spain shall be impressed.»
Frey Alonso seemed downcast. He had been counting upon his auto de fe. Dona Hernanda was chiefly puzzled by the sudden geniality of her hitherto haughty and disdainful pretended cousin. Meanwhile Don Pedro piled Pelion upon Ossa.
«It should prove to his Majesty that your Excellency is wasted in so small a settlement as Porto Rico. I see you as governor of some more important colony. Perhaps as viceroy … Who shall say? You have displayed a zeal such as has rarely been displayed by any Spanish governor overseas.»
«But how and when to send them to Spain?» wondered Don Jayme, who no longer questioned the expediency of doing so.
«Why, that is a matter in which I can serve your Excellency. I can convey them for you on the San Tomas which should call for me at any moment now. You will write another letter to his Majesty, offering him these evidences of your zeal, and I will bear it together with these captives. Your general amnesty can wait until I've sailed with them. Thus there will be nothing to mar it. It will be complete and properly imposing.»
So elated and so grateful to his guest for his suggestion was Don Jayme that he actually went the length of addressing him as cousin in the course of thanking him.
The matter, it seemed, had presented itself for discussion only just in time. For early on the following morning Santiago was startled by the boom of a gun, and turning out to ascertain the reason beheld again the yellow Spanish ship which had brought Don Pedro coming to anchor in the bay.
Don Pedro himself sought the Governor with the information that this was the signal for his departure, expressing a polite regret that duty did not permit him longer to encroach upon Don Jayme's princely hospitality.
Whilst his Negro valet was packing his effects, he went to take his leave of Dona Hernanda, and again assured that wistful little lady that she need be under no apprehension on the score of her cousin Rodrigo, who would soon now be with her.
After this Don Jayme, with an officer in attendance, carried Don Pedro off to the town gaol, where the pirates were lodged.
In a dark, unpaved stone chamber, lighted only by a small, heavily barred, unglazed window set near the ceiling, they were herded with perhaps a score of other malefactors of all kinds and colours. The atmosphere of the place was so indescribably foul and noisome that Don Pedro recoiled as from a blow when it first assailed him. Don Jayme's loud, coarse laugh derided his fastidiousness. Nevertheless, the Governor flicked out a handkerchief that was sprayed with verbena, and thereafter at intervals held it to his nostrils.
Wolverstone and his five associates, heavily loaded with irons, were in a group a little apart from their fellow prisoners. They squatted against the wall on the foul, dank straw that was their bedding. Unshaven, dishevelled and filthy, for no means of grooming themselves had been allowed them, they huddled together there as if seeking strength in union against the common rogues with whom they were confined. Wolverstone, almost a giant in build, might from his dress have been a merchant. Dyke, that sometime petty officer in the King's Navy, had similarly been arrayed like a citizen of some consequence. The other four wore the cotton shirts and leather breeches which had been the dress of the boucan–hunters before they took to the sea, and their heads were swathed in coloured kerchiefs.
They did not stir when the door creaked on its ponderous hinges and a half–dozen corseletted Spaniards with pikes entered to form a guard of honour as well as a protection for the Governor. When that august personage made his appearance attended by his officer and accompanied by his distinguished looking guest, the other prisoners sprang up and ranged themselves in awe and reverence. The pirates stolidly sat on. But they were not quite indifferent. As Don Pedro sauntered in, languidly leaning on his beribboned cane, dabbing his lips with a handkerchief, which he, too, had deemed it well to produce, Wolverstone stirred on his foul bed, and his single eye (he had lost the other one at Sedgemoor) rolled with almost portentous ferocity.