Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of MexicoBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
History
Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Juvenile fiction
Roger sat up and surveyed himself and his long legs in dismay. It was
the very first time that he had ever been laid up, and the experience
was new to him. He felt strangely weak, and trembled after the slightest
exertion. But he could think, if he could not move, and he spent his
time in watching Tamba, and in wondering how this adventure would
terminate. Nor had he missed the mark by much when he spoke of the
Spaniard; for a clever trick had been successfully played upon the
leader of the English. It happened that not far from the mine in Cuba on
the very day on which it was captured was a Spaniard, this same Alvarez,
and his quick ears detected the noise of firing. That led him to
investigate during the following night, for he, too, had heard of the
presence of an English ship on the coast. He had found the mine in the
hands of the enemy, and he had debated what he ought to do. If he left
for the nearest Spanish post the ship would be gone, while if he stayed
she would go when her damages were repaired. Then he thought of the
disc, for which a big reward had been offered, and, being an adventurous
fellow, and one, moreover, accustomed to Englishmen, for he had once
attended an ambassador at the court of St. James, he determined to seek
for the reward himself. He knew of a boat along the coast, and spent a
few days in fetching her. Then he despatched a native to his comrades,
telling them of his discovery, timing its arrival so that none could
interfere.
"None can save the situation but myself," he wrote. "But I have faith in
English humanity, and I will risk the attempt. If successful, I will
claim the reward of Fernando Cortes."
The reader will have seen that Alvarez had made no mistake. No
Englishman worthy of the name would have done ought else than succour a
derelict man, and the Spaniard, having a specious story, was able to
ingratiate himself. With the result that the disc was gone, and our
hero, the giant crossbow-man and lieutenant, lay fretting in the forest,
chained by stronger links than were ever worn by a prisoner.
A week later Roger was able to rise, while within ten days he could
walk. Then, too, the wound was healed, thanks to the attention of Tamba.
Meanwhile, nothing had been seen of the brigantine.
"You say that you have seen the Spaniard in the offing, and nearer in
once or twice," said Roger, thoughtfully, as he and the native crouched
over the fire which burned at the foot of one of the trees. "Then I fear
that the coast is being patrolled, and that our friends are unable to
return. Did you hear firing on that day when Alvarez struck me?"
"None. Not a gun, my lord. I saw the brigantine away at sea, and two
galleons after her; but there was no fighting."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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