188 DEATH OF A PIRATE.
hardly be a drop of blood in my body; and that blood will only serve to
make the grass grow. My wounds are mortal, and I must and will die
without what you call confession.'1
The moon rose in the east. The majesty of her placid beauty impressed
me with reverence. I pointed towards her, and asked the Pirate
if he could not recognise God's features there. " Friend, I see what vou
are driving at," was his answer,—" you, like the rest of our enemies, feel
the desire of murdering us all.—Well—be it so—to die is after all nothing
more than a jest; and were it not for the pain, no one, in my opinion,
need care a jot about it. But, as you really have befriended me, I will
tell you all that is proper."
Hoping his mind might take a useful turn, I again bathed his temples
and washed his lips with spirits. His sunk eyes seemed to dart fire at
mine—a heavy and deep sigh swelled his chest and struggled through his
blood-choked throat, and he asked me to raise him for a little. I did so,
when he addressed me somewhat as follows, for, as I have told you, his
speech was a mixture of Spanish, French and English, forming a jargon,
the like of which I had never heard before, and which I am utterly unable
to imitate. However I shall give you the substance of his declaration.
" First tell me, how many bodies you found in the boat, and what
sort of dresses they had on.1' I mentioned their number, and described
their apparel. " That's right," said he, " they are the bodies of the
scoundrels who followed me in that infernal Yankee barge. Bold rascals
they were, for when they found the water too shallow for their
craft, they took to it and waded after me. All my companions had
been shot, and to lighten my own boat I flung them overboard; but as
I lost time in this, the two ruffians caught hold of my gunwale, and struck
on my head and body in such a manner, that after I had disabled and
killed them both in the boat, I was scarce able to move. The other villains
carried off our schooner and one of our boats, and perhaps ere now
have hung all my companions whom they did not kill at the time. I
have commanded my beautiful vessel many years, captured many ships,
and sent many rascals to the devil. I always hated the Yankees, and only
regret that I have not killed more of them.—I sailed from Mantanzas.—
I have often been in concert with others. I have money without counting,
but it is buried where it will never be found, and it would be useless
to tell you of it.1' His throat filled with blood, his voice failed, the cold
DEATH OF A PIRATE. 189
hand of death was laid on his brow, feebly and hurriedly he muttered,
" I am a dying man, farewell!"
Alas ! It is painful to see death in any shape; in this it was horrible,
for there was no hope. The rattling of his throat announced the moment
of dissolution, and already did the body fall on my arms with a weight
that was insupportable. I laid him on the ground. A mass of dark
blood poured from his mouth ; then came a frightful groan, the last breathing
of that foul spirit; and what now lay at my feet in the wild desert ?
—a mangled mass of clay !
The remainder of that night was passed in no enviable mood ; but my
feelings cannot be described. At dawn I dug a hole with the paddle of
my canoe, rolled the body into it, and covered it. On reaching the boat
I found several buzzards feeding on the bodies, which I in vain attempted
to drag to the shore. I therefore covered them with mud and weeds, and
launching my canoe, paddled from the cove with a secret joy for my escape,
overshaded with the gloom of mingled dread and abhorrence,"