Act 4 — Scene VIII.—THE HALL OF THE DEAD.

A retired and sacred part of the building devoted to the purpose, richly decorated and stored with masses of gold and silver. A long line of mummied dead, dressed in robes of cotton, elaborately embroidered, and covered with jewels, are suspended to silver bars, and vibrating strangely with the gentle air through the open casements.

Enter Comagre and Drake, who, startled and amazed at the unexpected scene, recoils with awe.

Comagre. This, noble Drake, is the Hall of my Ancestors—the sacred mansion of the dead. There they are! (he points to them). In hours of sorrow or danger I visit them. Their spirits come from the happy land to sympathise with mine.

Drake (much interested). Are these the real bodies of the dead? How have they been preserved?

Comagre. The art is of ancient time, and came from beyond the great sea with the first fathers of the land. They are dried by fire, then wrapped in cloth of cotton with potent spices. Their robes are embroidered by the hands of our women, skilled in a secret language, which perpetuates to their descendants the memory of their deeds.

Drake. They are covered with gold and precious stones, which you would do well to conceal from the Spaniards. These diamonds and emeralds, these rubies and pearls are of priceless value. Not all the Royal Crowns and robes of Europe could show the like. They are safe from us; but if they were the property of Spain, I would tear them from convent, church, or altar.

Comagre. Noble Englishman, ’tis for this I love you, and have sought your friendship. I have opened my home—my treasures—my heart to you. Give us vengeance! if not protection. Friend hear the wrongs of our country in the presence of these noble dead. It is now a few years, since two Spaniards, sinking under fatigue and hunger, were captured in the forest having fled for their lives from their own cruel countrymen. They should have been put to death at once, being Spaniards, but the kindness of our nature prevailed. They were saved, brought home to the village, protected, nourished, treated as brothers.

Drake (deeply interested). How kind! How good! Well, friend?

Comagre (with bitter indignation). Well! They held secret intercourse with our foes.

Drake. Treacherous villains!

Comagre. With the very men who had doomed them to ignominious death as traitors.

Drake. Which they deserved.

Comagre. Betrayed the homes, the wealth, the secret paths of those who had sheltered—saved them.

Drake (greatly excited). Wretches!

Comagre. Well! without preparation or notice, in the darkness of the night we were attacked—robbed—massacred. The village was set on fire, men, women, and children were hurled into the flames.

Drake. Inhuman monsters!

Comagre. The morning sun rose upon calcined bones, and blackened ruins, where before was pleasure, loveliness and peace!

Drake (holding up his hands and walking about in great excitement). Horrible recital! Barbarous, unprovoked! Brutal cruelty! This is worse than the ravening of wild beasts.

Comagre (with intensified rage). Wild beasts! The rage of the most savage beast of the forest is gentleness compared with it! The boa will gorge himself and go to sleep. The ferocious puma will pounce upon a single victim and his appetite for blood will be appeased. But the ruthless fury of the Spaniard, when exhausted with slaughter, calls upon the devouring flames to aid him, and commits to senseless havoc, what his licentious appetite cannot enjoy, or his insatiate avarice carry away! (He pauses breathless. Then walks about with hurried step, gasping and frantic with rage.)

Drake. The same everywhere—Spain wars upon mankind, like fiends. The object, slavery or desolation.

Comagre. Give us revenge—Smite! Kill! Destroy the accursed foe! On with your devastating thunder, those iron mouths that wing their viewless death from far, that dauntless heart, that powerful arm. Come on Brother; come, Revenge. Revenge! Revenge! (Dragging Drake along, exeunt).

Scene changes.