Act 4 — Scene IV.—TWO STREAMS MEETING AT A POINT OF LAND,

On which grows a tall solitary Palm, its feathered branches waving in the morning air. The densely wooded banks reflected in the still water. The horizon in the background, a Sierra of lofty mountains. The sun rising and illumening their tops and sending his rays along one of the streams. A canoe coming down the shining river.

Enter Drake, Oxenham, Moon the carpenter, and others in a boat from the side.

Drake (after a pause looking round). I don’t see our dark-visaged friends; I hope there is no mistake. One cannot exactly apprehend treason. These Symerons hate as well as fear the Spaniards, and would neither aid nor trust them.

Oxenham. True, General, our foes are theirs. From them they have nothing to expect but the slavery of their race or death. Gold they value not—thus cruelty and treachery defeat themselves. Spain can never be trusted. To us they look as friends to aid them in their vengeance.

Drake. What a tide of Spanish blood is due to them—a nation crushed, tortured, massacred, enslaved, driven from such a paradise as this, or seeing it blasted before their eyes. Such is conquest; such a foreign yoke, (aside) England, look well to it! There are men, and Englishmen, who would thus degrade their native land, the glorious and the free!

Oxenham. It seems not like the wickedness of man—not to speak of Policy—Spain clothes herself with hate and terror. Her soldiers have the air of fiends from hell; their mission to destroy.

Moon. There is no danger, General. This is the spot—the junction of the two streams, and the solitary cocoanut tree on the point.

Oxenham. Right, Moon, all right. There it is rearing aloft its head like a mighty standard—its giant plumes just waving in the morning air—no mistake!

Drake. What a picture! How strangely beautiful! An there were here some limner of Nature’s Physiognomy, with cunning to throw her wondrous effigy on his magic canvas; that dark still water, noiseless and deep, stealing snakelike through the monstrous foliage, mirrored in its glassy surface; that proud Sierra; the distant horizon, and the rising sun, tinging with purple glory its snowy tops, sending the sheen of silver along the opening river.

Oxenham (abruptly). Here comes the canoe, like a regiment of men in single file. What a length of side! and made out of a single trunks.

Moon. It would puzzle a fellow like me, with only a little arithmetic, to count them. Lord! it shoots like an arrow. As we speak it is at the bank. Hurrah! there is our friend Chiruca in the bow. He is now you see an Indian Chief, and waves his eagle plume to us.

The canoe with the Indians arrives, loaded with fruits and other provisions, and drinks of the country.

Drake. Brave Chiruca, welcome! (they embrace)

Chiruca. Welcome to the land of our fathers, noble Drake. (He points to his companions.) These are the sons of Caciques, who have come to welcome you; the Chiefs who will gather round you; the valiant of their tribes (they prostrate themselves before Drake, who by the instruction of Chiruca raises and embraces them).

Oxenham (to Drake aside). This is the best move yet, General. We are now at the very throat of Spain. I have long had this in my eye, and kept it to myself. Make a nation of these Symerons, but the gold and pearls first.

Drake. I can see farther, John. I mean to ascend the heights and behold the other ocean—what Spain is doing. The source of all her wealth lies there.

Indians, loaded with provisions, proceed up the precipitous rock at the side; others armed with lances and bows mingle with the English, and prepare to accompany them. Chiruca approaches Drake.

Chiruca. Friend Drake! We wait for you; the sun is above the mountains, and warns us that time passes (Drake takes him by the arm and points forward).

Drake. On then, Chiruca. Looking at these precipitous rocks—those tangled forests—those foaming cataracts—the stern outline of that high Sierra—the task would seem hopeless.

Chiruca. Gold and silver, in loads, traverse these heights on mules and llamas. We will show you the Recoes and their Spanish escort. With your men of iron, we shall make short work of the guard, and carry off the treasure. We will ambuscade them for you, and mow them down with poisoned arrows. You shall see them fly, as from a pestilence, or the scourge of the evil one.

Drake. Lead on.

Chiruca. This is the way. Follow me.

The Indians bound up the face of the rock and disappear under the hanging shrubs.

Moon. That’s what I call a flying leap. Body o’ me! They’re birds or antilopes—not men.

Drake (he calls up to Chiruca). Call you this a path? To get up there would require the wings of one of those Condors that have scented death from the Sierra, and are sailing over our heads, ready to pick our bones, should we break our necks.

Moon (with a heavy axe, and several other things, produces a rope, which he has coiled round him, and throws one end up the rock). I’ll show them a trick, General, that will beat all their jumping. (He prepares to throw the rope) Look out there aloft! (he throws) Now make fast Chiruca (he runs up the rope amid much laughter).

Drake. Well done, Moon! Always prepared; he’s loaded like one of Llamas.

Moon slides down again and holds the rope for Drake.

Moon. There, General, I have tried it for you.

Drake. That was a bright and seamanlike thought, Moon.

Drake, Oxenham, and the others ascend.

Moon. I wish I had brought a kedge anchor and a block or two with me, I think we shall need a whole running gear and tackle before we shall have warped through all these shoals and narrows (he secures about him his axe and various implements, and ascends the rope, amid cheers from the top of the rock. They are seen crossing over a deep craggy ravine, on a bridge of ropes twisted of fibres of trees, and so disappear in the distance at the other side). Scene changes.