The Monarchs of the Main; Or, Adventures of the Buccaneers. Volume 1 (of 3)Thornbury, Walter
History
The Monarchs of the Main; Or, Adventures of the Buccaneers. Volume 1 (of 3)
Thornbury, Walter
Buccaneers; Pirates; Spanish Main
friends) told him that the gibbet was already putting together, and the
rope was ready noosed. In that delay was his safety; that very night he
resolved to escape, or perish by a quicker or less disgraceful death. No
doubt, with that strange mixture of religion remaining in the minds of
most Buccaneers, he prayed to God or the saints to aid him.
He soon freed himself from his irons. Discovering in his cabin two of
those large earthen jars in which wine was brought from Spain to the
Indies, he closed over the orifices, and hung them to his side with
cords, being probably unable to swim, and the distance too far to the
shore. Finding that he could not elude the vigilance of the sleepless
sentinel that paced at his door, he stabbed him with a knife he had
secretly purchased, and let himself noiselessly down, from the
mainchains into the water, floating to land without the splash that a
swimmer would have made in still water. Once on land he concealed
himself in a wood, prepared to bear any danger, and glad at heart to
endure starvation rather than suffer a public and shameful death. He was
too cunning to set off at once on a route that would be explored, but
hid himself among trees half covered with water, in order to prevent the
possibility of his being tracked by the maroon bloodhounds--a common
stratagem with the moss-troopers, who found the sound of running water
drown the noise of their movements and the murmur of their breathing,
and destroy all traces of their track. Bruce and Wallace had long before
escaped by the artifice that now saved a robber and a murderer. His must
have been anxious nights, varied by the shouts of negroes, the deep bay
of the dogs, the oaths of the Spaniards, the discharge of fire-arms, the
toll of the alarm bell, the glare of beacons; and the flash of torches.
For these three days he lived on yams and other roots growing around
him. From a tree in which he sometimes harboured he had the satisfaction
of seeing his pursuers search the wood in vain, and finally relinquish
the pursuit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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