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: The Invasion Of Mysore.
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For some time, there was a pause in the hostilities. Tippoo remained with his army near Pondicherry, carrying on negotiations with the French governor, and arranging for the despatch of an envoy to France, with a request that the Republic would furnish him with six thousand French troops. While he was thus wasting his time, General Meadows was slowly moving, with the army, towards an encampment formed at Vellout, some eighteen miles west of Madras.
On the 14th of December, a messenger arrived with the news that Lord Cornwallis had arrived from Calcutta, two days before, with considerable reinforcements, and that he was about to assume the supreme command of the army. The news caused unbounded satisfaction. By the extreme dilatoriness of his movements, and especially by the manner in which he had allowed Tippoo to pass him near Caveripatam, when he might easily have attacked him, while his army was still struggling through the pass, General Meadows had disgusted his troops. He had frittered away, without striking a single blow, the finest army that the British had, up to that time, ever put into the field in India; and had enabled Tippoo, unmolested, to spread destruction over a large extent of country.
The only countervailing success that had been gained, by the British, was a brilliant victory won by Colonel Hartley, who was in command of a Bombay force, consisting of a European regiment and two battalions of Sepoys. With these, he engaged Hossein Ali, who had been left by Tippoo in Malabar, with a force of 9000 men, when the sultan first retreated before General Meadows' advance. This force was defeated, with a loss of 1000 men killed and wounded, 900, including Hossein himself, taken prisoners on the field, and 1500 in the pursuit; the total British loss being only 52 men. A few days after this victory, General Abercrombie arrived from Madras with reinforcements, and the whole of Tippoo's fortified places in Malabar were captured, one after another, and the entire province conquered.
As soon as Lord Cornwallis reached the camp at Vellout, with a large train of draught animals that had been brought by sea from Calcutta, the Rajah and his troops received orders to join him. It was on the 29th of January, 1791, that the commander in chief arrived at Vellout, and the Rajah arrived there on the 4th of February. As he was the bearer of a letter from the Resident at Arcot, he was at once enabled to have an interview with Lord Cornwallis. On finding that he could speak English, the general received him with much courtesy.
"I am glad, indeed, to have a troop like yours with us, Rajah," he said. "There are few of my officers who know anything of this part of the country, and your local knowledge will be invaluable. Moreover, as I do not speak the language myself, it will be a great advantage to have someone with me through whom I can communicate freely with the people of the country. There is no doubt that such communications are much more effectual, when they come through one of their own princes, than through English officers. I shall therefore order that, on the march, a space be allotted for the encampment of your troop by the side of that occupied by my own escort; and hope that, when not employed on scouting or other duties, you will ride with my staff.
"Your mother, Rajah, was an English lady, I am told."
"She was, sir. My sister, who married an Englishman, is at present in Madras with my family, and her son is with me.
"I beg to recommend him to your lordship. He speaks my language perfectly, and having been brought up in his father's country, naturally speaks English as well as Hindustani; and will understand, far better than I can do, any orders that you may give. He has come out, with his mother, in the hopes of finding his father, who has, if alive, been a prisoner for several years in the hands of Tippoo.
"He is a fine young fellow. The other day, he made a most dangerous reconnaissance into Mysore, in order to ascertain Tippoo's movements. He had with him a young officer of mine, two or three years older than himself; and when I tell you that the two young fellows held a ruined hut, for hours, against the attack of some seventy of Tippoo's troops, and beat them off with a loss of upwards of twenty killed, I need hardly say that he has no lack of courage."
"You are right, indeed, Rajah. Let the lad ride beside you, with my staff. Some day he will, perhaps, shorten a long day's march by giving me details of this adventure of his."
On the 5th of February the army started on its march, and on the 11th reached Vellore. Tippoo had, for two months, been wasting his time at Pondicherry; but, upon hearing news that instead of, as he expected, the English general having marched south from Vellout to meet him, he had turned westward; and that Mysore, itself, was threatened with invasion, he hastily broke up his camp, and marched at full speed for the ghauts; and, reaching the table land, hurried to oppose the British army, as it endeavoured to ascend the pass going from Vellore through Amboor, by which he made sure he would come.
Lord Cornwallis encouraged him in the idea, by sending a battalion a considerable distance up the pass; while he started north and entered the easy pass of Mooglee, leading west from Chittoor to Moolwagle. He pushed rapidly up the pass, and gained the summit before Tippoo could reach the spot and oppose him. It took four days longer for the battering train, baggage, and provisions to reach the top of the pass. After a delay of a day or two, to rest the animals, which included sixty-seven elephants which had been brought from Bengal, the army set out for Bangalore, the second largest town in Mysore.
The Rajah's troops had been busily employed, from the time the army moved from Vellout. The men, on their tireless little horses, carried his messages to the various divisions and brigades, brought up news of the progress of the train, or rode on ahead with the officers of the quartermaster's department, whose duty it was to precede the army, to decide on the camping ground, and to mark off the spots to be occupied by the various corps. In this way, they saved the regular cavalry from much fatiguing duty.
Surajah and Dick were generally with the party that went on with the quartermasters, and, as soon as the camping ground was fixed upon, aided them in the purchase of forage and food from the natives, as it was most desirable that the forty days' provisions the army carried with it should remain intact, until the army had passed up the ghauts. Beyond that, it was expected that it would be harassed by the Mysore horse, who would render it impossible for the cavalry to go out to collect forage, or provisions, from the country through which it marched.
So well did the Rajah's troop perform its duties, that Lord Cornwallis ordered it to be taken on the strength of the army, and to receive the pay and rations of native cavalry in the service. On the day after leaving Vellore, the general sent an orderly to request the Rajah and his nephew to ride with him.
"I have not had an opportunity of hearing of your scouting expedition," he said to Dick, "and shall be glad if you will give me full details of it."
Dick related the adventure, from the time they had started.
"You were wonderfully lucky, in getting back safely," the general said, when he had finished. "At least, luck is not the proper word, for your safety was due to your quick wittedness and courage; and your escape with your companion from the guard house, the manner in which you got through the fort in the pass, and your defence of that hut, until the Rajah's troop arrived to your rescue, were all of them admirably managed."
He then proceeded to inquire further into the object for which Dick had come out to India.
"I heartily wish you success in your search," he said, "and sincerely hope we may obtain news of your father. I do not know what your intentions may be, afterwards, but should you wish to enter the army, I will at once nominate you to a commission, in one of our native cavalry regiments."
"I am deeply obliged to your Excellency," Dick replied, "but as, if we learn nothing of my father during the war, I am quite resolved to spend, if necessary, some years in Mysore in the search for him, I must therefore be free to devote my time to that."
"At any rate," the general said, "if at any time you should feel free to accept my offer, it will be open to you. In the meantime, I will appoint you one of the interpreters to the army, during the expedition, and will attach you to my own staff. It will give you a recognised position, and it is only right that, as you are doing good service, you should receive pay. You shall be put in orders this evening. You can, of course, continue to camp and live with the Rajah."
The change made very little difference in Dick's duties, and he continued at his former work, in the quartermasters' department, until the army was ready for its advance to Bangalore. To the general surprise, as the army moved forward, nothing was seen of Tippoo's cavalry, by which they had expected to be continually harassed. The sultan had, as soon as he perceived that Bangalore was threatened, hurried the whole army to that city, where he had sent his harem when he started from Seringapatam to attack Travancore; and instead of sending off a few hundred horsemen, to escort them to the capital, while with his army he opposed the advance of the British, he took his whole force with him, in order to remove his harem with all the pomp and ceremony with which their passage through the country was generally accompanied. Consequently, it was not until after taking, without resistance, the forts of Colar and Ooscotah, and arriving within ten miles of Bangalore, that the army encountered Tippoo's cavalry.
This was on the 4th of March. They made an attempt to reach the baggage trains, but were sharply repulsed, and on the following day the army took up its position before Bangalore. As they approached the town, three horsemen dashed out from a small grove, and rode furiously towards a little group, consisting of Lord Cornwallis, General Meadows, and the staff, who were reconnoitring at some little distance from the head of the column. It was evident that their intention was to cut down the general.
The Rajah, who was riding as usual with the staff, dashed forward with four or five other officers, and encountered the horsemen before they could reach him. The Rajah cut down one of them, another was killed by one of the staff, and the third knocked off his horse and captured.
It was learned that the enterprise was not a planned one, but was the result of a quarrel between the men, themselves. One had charged the others with cowardice, and in return they had challenged him to follow them where they dared go. All had prepared themselves for the enterprise by half intoxicating themselves with bhang, and thus made but a poor fight, when they found their object thwarted by the officers who threw themselves between them and their intended victim.
Bangalore was a fine town, situated on a plain so elevated that the climate was temperate, the soil fertile, and vegetation abundant. The town was of considerable extent, that portion lying within the fortifications being a mile and a quarter long, by half a mile broad. It was surrounded by a strong rampart, a thick hedge, and a deep, dry ditch. The wall, however, did not extend across the side facing the fort, whose guns were supposed to render it ample protection.
The fort was oval in shape, and about nine hundred yards across, at its greatest diameter. It was defended by a broad rampart, strengthened by thirty semicircular bastions and five outworks. The two gates, one at each end, were also protected by outworks. In the fort stood the splendid palace built by Tippoo. Here also were immense foundries of cannon, factories for muskets, the arsenal, and large magazines of grain and ammunition.
The position taken up by the army lay to the northeast of the petah, or town, and the next morning a reconnoitring party, escorted by Colonel Floyd, with the whole of the cavalry and a brigade of infantry, went out to examine the defences of the town and fort. Seeing a large body of laden elephants and camels, escorted by a strong body of horsemen, Colonel Floyd rode with the cavalry to attack them. The movement was a rash one, as the guns on the fort opened fire, and although at first he defeated the Mysore horse, a heavy fire was poured upon him, when entangled in broken ground. He himself was shot by a musket ball which, striking him in the face, passed through both jaws. It was at first believed that he was dead, but he was carried back to camp, and ultimately recovered. This rash attack cost the lives of seventy-one men, and of four times as many horses.
As Tippoo's army was lying at a distance of only six miles away, the general determined that it would be best, in the first place, to capture the town without delay; and to assault the fort on that side, as he could then do so without any fear of an attack by Tippoo; who would be able to harass him, constantly, were he to approach the fort from any other direction. Orders were therefore issued for the 36th Regiment, supported by the 26th Bengal Sepoys, and a party of artillery under Colonel Moorhouse, to prepare to storm the north gate of the town at daybreak the next morning.
As soon as dawn broke, the troops rushed forward against the gate. The outside work was speedily stormed, but as they issued from it, towards the gate itself, they were received with a very heavy fire from the walls, together with a storm of hand grenades. Colonel Moorhouse brought forward a six pounder, receiving two wounds as the piece was run up to the gate. The first time it was fired, it had no effect beyond making a small hole, and the next shot had no greater success. Colonel Moorhouse ordered a twelve-pounder to be brought up, but as he was aiding to put it into position, another ball struck him, and he fell dead.
While the artillerymen were pouring shot after shot into the gate, the roar of musketry was unceasing, the 36th keeping up an incessant fire upon the enemy upon the wall, in order to cover, as much as possible, the operations of the gunners. At last, the gate gave way. The troops poured in, cheering loudly, and the enemy at once fled.
Many, however, took up their positions in the houses, and kept up a galling fire, until their places of refuge were stormed by detachments of troops, scattered through the town. By nine o'clock all was over, and the town completely in the possession of the British.
Tippoo, furious at its having been so speedily captured, moved down early in the afternoon with a strong force of infantry; and, marching along by the side of the fort, endeavoured to force his way into the town through the open space at that end. He was aided by the guns of the fort, while his artillery kept up a heavy cannonade upon the British encampment.
When the sultan was seen marching towards the town, with the evident intention of endeavouring to retake it, the 76th Regiment was sent in to reinforce the garrison; and the three battalions opposed so steady a resistance to Tippoo's infantry that the latter were forced to fall back, after sustaining a loss of five hundred men. The troops began next morning to erect batteries.
The position was a singular one. A small army was undertaking the siege of a strong fortress, while an army vastly outnumbering it was watching them; and was able, at any moment, to throw large reinforcements into the fort through the Mysore gate, which was at the opposite end of the fort to that attacked, the efforts of the British being directed against the Delhi gate, which faced the town.
The advantage which had been gained, by the employment of the great train carrying the provisions for the troops, was now manifest; for, unless the army had been so provided, it would have been forced to retreat; as, in the face of Tippoo's army, with its great host of cavalry, it would have been impossible to gather provisions.
The first batteries erected by the engineers proved to be too far distant from the wall of the fort to effect any material damage, and others were commenced at a much shorter range. The work was performed with great difficulty, for the guns of the defenders were well served, and a storm of missiles were poured, night and day, into the town and against the batteries. The garrison, which consisted of eight thousand men, were frequently relieved by fresh troops from the sultan's army, and were thus able to maintain their fire with great vigour.
On the 17th, Tippoo cannonaded the British camp from a distance, but without doing great damage. In the meantime, the fire of our siege guns was steadily doing its work, in spite of the heavy fire kept up on them. The stone facing of the bastion next to the gateway was soon knocked away, but the earth banks behind, which were very thick and constructed of a tough red clay, crumbled but slowly. Still, the breach was day by day becoming more practicable, and Tippoo, alarmed at the progress that had been made, moved his army down towards the east side of the fort, and seemed to meditate an attack upon our batteries. He placed some heavy guns behind a bank surrounding a large tank, and opened some embrasures through which their fire would have taken our trenches, which were now pushed up close to the fort, in flank.
Lord Cornwallis at once directed a strong force to advance, as if with the intention of attacking the new work, and Tippoo ordered his troops to retire from it. It was evident, however, that he had determined to give battle in order to save the fort, and the English general therefore determined to storm the place that very night, the 21st of March. The preparations were made secretly, lest the news should be taken to Tippoo by one of the natives in the town, and it was not until late in the evening that orders were issued to the troops which were to take part in the assault.
The column was to be composed of the grenadier and light companies of all the European regiments, and these were to be followed and supported by several battalions of Sepoys. The force, commanded by Colonel Maxwell, at eleven o'clock issued from the town and advanced through the trenches. The besieged were vigilant, and the instant the leading company sprang from the trenches and, in the bright moonlight, ran forward to the breach, a number of blue lights were lighted all along the ramparts, and a heavy musketry fire was opened.
The scene was eagerly watched by the troops in the camp, every feature being distinctly visible. The storming party could be seen, rushing up the breach and mounting, by ladders, over the gateway, which was the central object of attack. The enemy gathered in masses at the top of the breach, but as soon as the stormers collected in sufficient strength, and charged them with the bayonet, they broke and dispersed.
The grenadiers moved along the ramparts to the right, clearing it of its defences as they went along. The light companies did the same along the ramparts to the left, while the Sepoys descended into the body of the fort. The whole of the defenders fled towards the Mysore gate at the other end of the fort, and when the three bodies of troops met there, they found the gate blocked by the masses of fugitives.
They charged them on all sides. The governor, a brave old soldier, and a great favourite of the sultan, died fighting gallantly to the last. Six hundred of the garrison fell, and three hundred, for the most part wounded, were taken prisoners. The British loss was only fifty officers and men, killed and wounded.
The body of the governor was found, next morning, among the slain; and Lord Cornwallis sent a message to Tippoo, with an offer to have the body carried to his camp for burial. Tippoo, however, replied that the proper place for a soldier to be buried was where he fell, and accordingly the brave old soldier was laid to rest, in the fort, by the Mohammedan troops in the Sepoy regiments; with all military honours.
While the assault was going on, Tippoo--who, in spite of the precautions taken, had received news of the intention of the general, and had warned the garrison of the fort to be prepared--despatched two heavy columns, as soon as the fire opened, to attack the British camp on its flank. The movement had been foreseen and prepared against, and the attacks were both repulsed with heavy loss.
The capture of the fort was effected but just in time, for the provisions were almost entirely consumed, and the scanty rations were eked out by digging up the roots of grasses and vegetables within the circuit of our pickets. The draught and carriage cattle were dying daily, by hundreds. The few remaining, intended for food, were in so emaciated a state that the flesh was scarcely eatable. And, worst of all, the supply of ammunition was almost exhausted.
The news of the fall of the fortress, considered by the natives to be almost impregnable, under the very eyes of the sultan himself and his great army, produced a widespread effect; greatly depressing the spirit of Tippoo's adherents, while it proportionately raised those of the British troops, and excited the hopes of the peoples conquered by Tippoo and his father. One result was that the polagars, or chiefs, of a tribe that had but recently fallen under the yoke of Mysore, were at once emboldened to bring in provisions to the town. As great stores were found in the magazines in the fort, the starving animals regained some of their condition during the ten days that the troops were occupied in repairing the breaches, burying the dead, and placing the fort in a condition to stand a siege, should Tippoo return during the absence of the army.
When this was done, and the stores of ammunition replenished from the magazines, the army started on its march north to Deonhully, where they were to effect a junction with the cavalry that the Nizam had agreed to furnish. As it marched, it passed within three miles of Tippoo's army, which was proceeding in a westerly direction. Tippoo could here have brought on a general engagement, had he wished it; but the capture of Bangalore had for the time cowed his spirit, and he continued his march, at a rate that soon placed him beyond the reach of the British.
At Deonhully a junction was effected with the Nizam's horse, ten thousand in number. These proved, however, of no real utility, being a mere undisciplined herd, who displayed no energy whatever, except in plundering the villagers. The united force now moved southeast, to guard a great convoy which was advancing up the pass of Amboor; and, when this had been met, returned to Bangalore.
During the operations of the siege, the Rajah's troop had remained inactive, and Dick's duties as interpreter had been nominal. At Bangalore, no English prisoners had been found, and he was heartily glad when he heard that it was the intention of Lord Cornwallis to march directly upon Seringapatam.
It was, indeed, a necessity for the English general to bring the campaign to a speedy termination. The war was entailing a tremendous strain upon the resources of the Company. The Nizam and Mahrattis were not to be depended upon in the slightest degree, and might at any moment change sides. The French revolution had broken out, and all Europe was alarmed, and many of the English regiments might, at any moment, be ordered to return home. Therefore, anything like a thorough conquest of Mysore was impossible, and there was only time to march to Seringapatam, to capture Tippoo's capital, and to dictate terms to him.
Immense exertions were made to restore the efficiency of the baggage train, and on the 3rd of May, the army marched from Bangalore.
Tippoo, devoured alike by rage and fear, had taken no efficient steps to meet the coming storm. His first thought was to prevent the English from discovering the brutal cruelty with which his white captives had been treated. He had, over and over again, given the most solemn assurances that he had no white prisoners in his hands; and he now endeavoured to prevent their obtaining evidence of his falsehood and cruelty, by murdering the whole of those who remained in his hands at Seringapatam. Having effected this massacre, he next ordered all the pictures that he had caused to be painted on the walls of his palace and other buildings, holding up the English to the contempt and hatred of his subjects, to be obliterated; and he also ordered the bridge over the northern loop of the Cauvery to be destroyed. He then set out with his army to bar the passage of the British to Seringapatam.
The weather was extremely bad when the British started. Rain storms had deluged the country, and rendered the roads well nigh impassable, and the movement was, in consequence, very slow. Tippoo had taken up a strong position on the direct road and, in order to avoid him, Lord Cornwallis took a more circuitous route, and Tippoo was obliged to fall back.
The whole country through which the English passed had been wasted. The villages were deserted, and not an inhabitant was to be met with. Suffering much from wet, and the immense difficulties of bringing on the transport, the army, on the 13th of May, arrived on the Cauvery, nine miles east of Seringapatam. Here it had been intended to cross the river, but the rains had so swollen the stream that it was found impossible to ford it. It was, therefore, determined to march to a point on the river, ten miles above Seringapatam, where it was hoped that a better ford could be found; and where a junction might be effected with General Abercrombie's Bombay army, which was moving up from the Malabar coast, and was but thirty or forty miles distant.
To effect this movement, it was necessary to pass within sight of the capital. Tippoo came out, and took up a strong position, on a rugged and almost inaccessible height. In front was a swamp stretching to the river, while batteries had been thrown up to sweep the approaches.
By a night march, accomplished in the midst of a tremendous thunder and rain storm, Lord Cornwallis turned Tippoo's position. The confusion occasioned by the storm, however, and the fact that several of the corps lost their way, prevented the full success hoped for from being attained, and gave Tippoo time to take up a fresh position.
Colonel Maxwell led five battalions up a rocky ledge, held by a strong body of the Mysore troops, carried it at the point of the bayonet, and captured some guns. Tippoo immediately began to fall back, but would have lost the greater portion of his artillery, had not the Nizam's horse moved forward across the line by which the British were advancing. Here they remained in an inert mass, powerless to follow Tippoo, and a complete barrier to the British advance. So unaccountable was their conduct, that it was generally believed in the army that it was the result of treachery; and it was with difficulty that the British troops could be restrained from firing into the horde of horsemen, who had, from the time they joined the force, been worse than useless.
As soon as the British could make their way through, or round, the obstacle to their advance, they pursued the retreating force of Tippoo, until it took refuge under the guns of the works round Seringapatam. Their loss had been 2000, that of the British 500.
But the success was of little benefit to the latter. The terrible state of the roads, and the want of food, had caused the death of great numbers of draught animals, and the rest were so debilitated as to be absolutely useless; and during the two days' marches, that were required to reach the point on the river previously determined upon, the battering train, and almost the whole of the carts, were dragged along by the troops.
The position of the army was bad in the extreme. Neither food nor forage were to be obtained from the country round. The troops were almost on famine rations, worn out by fatigue, and by the march through heavy rains, and nights spent on the sodden ground. Tippoo's horsemen hovered round them. The cavalry of the Nizam, which had been specially engaged to keep the foe at a distance, never once ventured to engage them. It was absolutely impossible to communicate with General Abercrombie, and after remaining but a couple of days in his new camp, Lord Cornwallis felt that the army could only be saved from destruction by immediate retreat.
No time was lost in carrying out the decision, when once arrived at. Some natives were paid heavily to endeavour to make their way to Abercrombie, with orders for him to retire down the ghauts again into Malabar. Then the whole of the battering train, and the heavy equipments, were destroyed; and on the 26th of May, the army started for its long march back to Bangalore.
It had made but six miles when a body of horsemen, some two thousand strong, were seen approaching. Preparations were instantly made to repel an attack, when a soldier rode in, and announced that the horsemen were the advance party of two Mahratta armies, close at hand. This was welcome news, indeed, for Lord Cornwallis had no idea that the Mahrattis were within two hundred miles of him, and had come to believe that they had no intention, whatever, of carrying out their engagements.
They had, it appeared, sent off a messenger, every day, to inform him of their movements; but so vigilant were Tippoo's cavalry, that not one of them ever reached the British. In a few hours, the junction was completed, and the sufferings of the army were at an end. Stores of every kind were abundant with the Mahrattis, and not only food, but clothing, and every necessary of life, could be purchased in the great bazaars, occupied by the Mahratta traders who accompanied the army.
Had the two Mahratta armies arrived a couple of days earlier, the destruction of the siege train would have been avoided, Seringapatam would have been besieged, Abercrombie's army of eight thousand men have joined, and the war brought at once to a conclusion. It was now, however, too late. The means for prosecuting the siege of so powerful a fortress were altogether wanting, and the united armies returned, by easy marches, to Bangalore.
On the march, the future plan of operations was decided upon. Lord Cornwallis sent orders for the sum of 1,500,000 rupees, that had been intended for China, to be at once despatched to Bangalore for the use of the army, and the allies. The larger of the Mahratta forces, under Purseram Bhow, with a detachment of Bombay troops that had accompanied it, were to march to the northwest, and reduce some of the forts and towns still held by the troops of Mysore. The other Mahratta force, consisting chiefly of cavalry, under Hurry Punt, were to remain at Bangalore.
The cause of the long delay, on the part of the Nizam and the Mahrattis, was now explained. The Nizam's troops had spent six months in the siege of the fortress of Capool, while an equal time had been occupied, by Purseram Bhow, in the siege of Durwar, a very strong place, garrisoned by ten thousand men.
Tippoo began negotiations immediately after his defeat near Seringapatam, and these were continued until July, when they were finally broken off. Some months were occupied in reducing a number of the hill forts, commanding the entrances to the various passes. Among these, two, deemed absolutely impregnable, Savandroog and Nundidroog, were captured, but the attack upon Kistnagherry was repulsed with considerable loss.
By the capture of these places, Lord Cornwallis obtained access to supplies from the Malabar and Carnatic coasts, and was thus free from the risk of any recurrence of the misfortunes that had marred his previous attempt to lay siege to Seringapatam; and, on the 5th of February, 1792, he again came within sight of Tippoo's capital.
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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9
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: News Of The Captive.
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During the nine months that had elapsed since the retreat from before Seringapatam, Dick had been occupied in following out the main object of his presence in Mysore. Finding that Purseram Bhow's army was the first that would be engaged in active service, he asked permission from the general to join it. This was at once granted, and Lord Cornwallis introduced him to the officer in command of the Bombay troops attached to that army, informing him of the object that he had in view.
"He will not be of much use as an interpreter," he said, "for as the country in which you are going to operate formed, until lately, a part of the Mahratta dominions, Mahratti will be principally spoken. He will, therefore, go simply as an officer of my staff, attached for the present to your command. He has asked me to allow him to take with him twenty men, belonging to the troop of his uncle, the Rajah of Tripataly. His object, in doing so, is that he will be able to traverse the country independently, and can either rejoin me here, or go to one of the other columns operating against the hill forts, if it should seem to him expedient to do so. Should you desire to make a reconnaissance at any time, while he is with you, you will find him useful as an escort, and will not be obliged to ask Purseram Bhow for a party of his cavalry."
Dick was sorry to leave his uncle, whose tent he had now shared for the last ten months. He found himself, however, very comfortable with the Bombay troops, being made a member of the mess, consisting of the officer in command and the four officers of his staff. Wishing to have some duties with which to occupy himself, he volunteered to act as an aide-de-camp; and although the work was little more than nominal, it gave him some employment. When not otherwise engaged, he generally rode with Surajah, whom his uncle had appointed to command the twenty troopers.
In the year that had elapsed since his arrival in India, Dick had grown considerably, and broadened out greatly, and was now a powerful young fellow of over seventeen. He had, since the troop joined the army of Lord Cornwallis, exchanged his civilian dress for the undress uniform of an officer, which he had purchased at the sale of the effects of a young lieutenant on the general's staff, who had died just as the army arrived before Bangalore. It was, indeed, necessary that he should do this, riding about, as he did, either on the staff of the general, or with the officers of the quartermasters' department. There would be no difficulty in renewing his uniform, for hardship, fever, and war had carried off a large number of officers, as well as men; and the effects were always sold by auction, on the day following the funeral.
Many hill fortresses were captured by the Mahrattis, but few offered any resistance; as their commanders knew well that there was no chance of their being relieved, while the men were, in most cases, delighted at the prospect of an escape from their enforced service, and of freedom to return to their homes. In a few of these forts, English captives were found. Some had been there for years, their very existence being apparently forgotten by the tyrant. Some had been fairly treated by the Mysore governor, and where this was the case, the latter was furnished by the British officers with papers, testifying to the kindness with which they had treated the prisoners, and recommending them to the officers of any of the allied forces they might encounter on their way home, or when established there.
Upon the other hand, some of the prisoners were found to have been all but starved, and treated with great brutality. In two cases, where the captives said that some of their companions had died from the effects of the ill treatment they had received, the governors were tried by court martial and shot, while some of the others they sentenced to be severely flogged.
Every captive released was closely scrutinised by Dick, and eagerly questioned. From one of them, he obtained news that his father had certainly been alive four years previously, for they had been in prison together, in a hill fort near Bangalore.
"I was a civilian and he a sailor," he said, "consequently neither of us were of any use in drilling Tippoo's battalions, and had been sent up there. Your father was well, then. The governor was a good fellow, and we had nothing much to complain of. Mr. Holland was a favourite of his, for, being a sailor, he was handy at all sorts of things. He could mend a piece of broken furniture, repair the lock of a musket, and make himself generally useful. He left there before I did, as the governor was transferred to some other fort--I never heard where it was--and he took your father with him. I don't know whether he had Tippoo's orders to do so, or whether he took him simply because he liked him.
"At any rate, he was the only prisoner who went with him. The rest of us remained there till a few months back, when the fort was abandoned. It was just after the capture of Bangalore, and the place could have offered no resistance, if a body of troops had been sent against it. At any rate, an order arrived one morning, and a few hours afterwards the place was entirely abandoned, and we and the garrison marched here."
"My father was quite well?"
"Quite well. He used to talk to me, at times, of trying to make his escape. Being a sailor, I have no doubt that he could have got down from the precipice on which the fort stood; but he knew that, if he did so, we should all suffer for it, and probably be all put to death, as soon as Tippoo heard that one of us had escaped--for that was always done, in order to deter prisoners from trying to get away."
"Do you think that there is any chance of his being still alive?"
"That is more than I can possibly say. You see, we have not known much of what is passing outside our prison. Some of the guards were good natured enough, and would occasionally give us a scrap of news; but we heard most from the ill-tempered ones, who delighted in telling us anything they knew that would pain us.
"Three or four months ago, we heard that every white prisoner in Seringapatam had been put to death, by Tippoo's orders, and that doubtless there would be a similar clearance everywhere else. Then, again, we were told that the English had retreated, beaten, from before Seringapatam, and that the last of them would soon be down the ghauts. But whether the prisoners have been killed in other hill forts like this, I cannot say, although I suppose not, or we should not have escaped."
"Certainly no such orders can have been sent to the forts here, for we have found a few prisoners in several of them. Of course, it may be otherwise in the forts near the capital, which Tippoo might have thought were likely to fall into our hands; while he may not have considered it worth while to send the same orders to places so far away as this, where no British force was likely to come. Still, at any rate, it is a great satisfaction that my father was alive four years ago, and that he was in kind hands. That is all in favour of my finding him, still alive, in one of the places we shall take, for Lord Cornwallis intends to besiege some of the fortresses that command the passes, because he cannot undertake another siege of Seringapatam until he can obtain supplies, freely and regularly, from beyond the ghauts; as nothing whatever can be obtained from the country round, so completely is it wasted by Tippoo's cavalry. I have, therefore, great hopes that my father may be found in one of these forts."
"I hope, indeed, that you may find him. I am convinced that the governor would save his life, if he could do so; though, on the other hand, he would, I am sure, carry out any order he might receive from Tippoo. Of course, he may not be in charge of a fort now, and may have been appointed colonel of one of the regiments. However, it is always better to hope that things will come as you wish them, however unlikely it may seem that they will do so. We have been living on hope here, though the chances of our ever being released were small, indeed. Of course, we did not even know that Tippoo and the English were at war, until we heard that an English army was besieging Bangalore; and even then we all felt that, even if Tippoo were beaten and forced to make peace, it would make no difference to us. He kept back hundreds of prisoners when he was defeated before, and would certainly not surrender any he now holds, unless compelled to do so; and no one would be able to give information as to the existence of captives in these distant forts.
"And yet, in the teeth of all these improbabilities, we continued to hope, and the hopes have been realised."
The capture of forts by the Mahratta army was abruptly checked. Having, so far, met with such slight opposition, Purseram Bhow became over confident, and scattered his force over a wide extent of country, in order that they might more easily find food and forage. In this condition they were suddenly attacked by Tippoo, who took advantage of the English being detained at Bangalore, while the transport train was being reorganised, to strike a blow at the Mahrattis.
The stroke was a heavy one. Many of the detached parties were completely destroyed; and the Mahratta general, after gathering the rest to his standard, was forced to retreat, until strong reinforcements were sent him from Bangalore.
Learning, from them, that it was probable Lord Cornwallis would advance as soon as they rejoined him, Dick determined to go back to Bangalore, as it was unlikely that, after the severe check they had received, the Mahrattis would resume the offensive for a time.
Surajah and the men were glad to return to the troop, and as soon as the Mysorean force returned to Seringapatam, Dick, without waiting for the infantry to get in motion, rode rapidly across the country with his little party.
He accompanied the English army during their operations, obtaining permission to go with the columns engaged in the siege of the hill fortresses, and was present at the capture of all the most important strongholds. To his bitter disappointment, no English prisoners were found in any of them, and it was but too certain that all who might have been there had been massacred, by Tippoo's orders, on the first advance of the British against Seringapatam.
Great indeed was the satisfaction of the army when they at last came in sight of the city. The capital of Mysore stood on an island, in the river Cauvery. This was four miles in length, and two in breadth. The town stood in its centre, the fort at the northern end. The island was approached by two bridges, one close to the fort, the other at the south, both being defended by strong batteries. There were also three fords, two of these being at the north end of the island, and also defended by batteries; the third was near the centre of the island, a mile below the fort, and leading to the native town.
The fort was separated from the rest of the island by a deep ditch cut across it. It was defended by numerous batteries. There were two gardens on the island, full of large trees, one of them being the burial place of Hyder Ali. This was connected with the fort by two avenues of trees. The country round was flat, a considerable portion being almost level with the river, and devoted to the cultivation of rice, while at other points a forest extended, almost to the bank.
After obtaining a view, from some high ground, of the city and of Tippoo's army encamped beyond its walls, the British force took up its position six miles to the northwest of the city. No sooner had the army reached their camping ground than Lord Cornwallis, with his staff, reconnoitred the approaches.
A thick hedge, formed by a wide belt of thorny shrubs, interlaced and fastened together by cords, extended from the bank of the river, about a thousand yards above Seringapatam; and, making a wide sweep, came down to it again opposite the other end of the island.
It was within the shelter of this formidable obstacle that Tippoo's army was encamped. Within the enclosed space were seven or eight eminences, on which strong redoubts had been erected. Fearing that Tippoo might, as soon as he saw the position taken up by the assailants, sally out with his army, take the field, and, as before, cut all his communications, Lord Cornwallis determined to strike a blow at once.
At sunset, orders were accordingly issued for the forces to move, in three columns, at three o'clock; by which time the moon would be high enough to light up, thoroughly, the ground to be traversed. The centre column, consisting of 3,700 men, under Lord Cornwallis himself, was to burst through the hedge at the centre of the enemy's position, to drive the enemy before them, and, if possible, to cross the ford to the island with the fugitives.
This, however, was not to be done until the centre column was reinforced by that under General Meadows, which was to avoid a strong redoubt at the northwest extremity of the hedge, and, entering the fence at a point between the redoubt and the river, drive the enemy before it, until it joined the centre column. Colonel Meadows had 3,300 under his command. The left column, consisting of 1,700 men under Colonel Maxwell, was first to carry a redoubt on Carrygut Hill, just outside the fence; and, having captured this, to cut its way through the hedge, and to cross the river at once, with a portion of the centre column.
Unfortunately, owing to a misunderstanding as to the order, the officer guiding General Meadow's column, instead of taking it to a point between the northwestern redoubt and the river, led it directly at the fort. This was stoutly defended, and cost the British eighty men and eleven officers. Leaving a strong garrison here, the column advanced, but came upon another redoubt, of even greater strength and magnitude; and the general, fearing that the delay that would take place in capturing it would entirely disarrange the plan of the attack, thought he had better make his way out through the hedge, march round it to the point where the centre column had entered it, and so give Lord Cornwallis the support he must need, opposed as he was to the whole army of Tippoo.
In the meantime, Colonel Maxwell's force had stormed the work on Carrygut Hill, and had made its way through the hedge; suffering heavily, as it did so, from the fire of a strong body of the enemy, concealed in a water course. The head of the centre column, under General Knox, after cutting its way through the hedge, pushed on with levelled bayonets, thrust its way through the enemy's infantry, and, mingling with a mass of fugitives, crossed the main ford close under the guns of the fort, and took possession of a village, half way between the town and the fort.
Unfortunately, in the confusion but three companies had followed him. The rest of the regiment and three companies of Sepoys crossed lower down, and gained possession of a palace on the bank of the river. The officer in command, however, not knowing that any others had crossed, and receiving no orders, waited until day began to break. He then recrossed the river and joined Lord Cornwallis, a portion of whose column, having been reinforced by Maxwell's column, crossed the river nearly opposite the town.
As they were crossing, a battery of the enemy's artillery opened a heavy fire upon them; but Colonel Knox, with his three companies, charged it in the rear, drove out the defenders, and silenced the guns.
All this time Lord Cornwallis was with the reserve of the central column, eagerly waiting the arrival of General Meadows' division. This, in some unaccountable way, had missed the gap in the hedge by which the centre column had entered, and, marching on, halted at last at Carrygut Hill, where it was not discovered until daylight.
The Mysore army on its left was still unbroken, and had been joined by large numbers of troops from the centre. On discovering the smallness of the force under Lord Cornwallis, they attacked it in overwhelming numbers, led by Tippoo himself. The British infantry advanced to meet them with the bayonet, and drove them back with heavy loss. They rallied, and returned to the attack again and again, but were as often repulsed; continuing their attacks, however, until daylight, when Lord Cornwallis, discovering at last the position of General Meadows, joined him on Carrygut Hill.
When day broke, the commanders of the two armies were able to estimate the results of the night's operations. On the English side, the only positions gained were the works on Carrygut Hill, the redoubt at the northwest corner of the hedge, another redoubt captured by the centre column, and the positions occupied by the force under Colonels Stuart and Knox, at the eastern end of the island.
The sultan found that his army was much reduced in strength, no less than twenty-three thousand men being killed, wounded, or missing. Of these, the missing were vastly the most numerous, for ten thousand Chelahs, young Hindoos whom Tippoo had carried off in his raids, and forced to become soldiers, and, nominally, Mohammedans, had taken advantage of the confusion, and marched away with their arms to the Forest of Coorg.
Tippoo made several determined efforts to drive Colonel Stuart's force off the island, and to recapture the redoubts, but was repulsed with such heavy loss that he abandoned the attempt altogether, evacuated the other redoubts, and brought his whole army across on to the island.
Tippoo now attempted to negotiate. He had already done so a month before, but Lord Cornwallis had refused to accept his advances, saying that negotiation was useless, with one who disregarded treaties and violated articles of capitulation.
"Send hither," he wrote, "the garrison of Coimbatoor, and then we will listen to what you have to say."
Lord Cornwallis alluded to the small body of troops who, under Lieutenants Chalmers and Nash, had bravely defended that town when it had been attacked by one of Tippoo's generals. The gallant little garrison had surrendered at last, on the condition that they should be allowed to march freely away. This condition had been violated by Tippoo, and the garrison had been marched, as prisoners, to Seringapatam. The two officers had been kept in the fort, but most of the soldiers, and twenty-seven other European captives who had lately been brought in from the hill forts, were lodged in the village that Colonel Knox had first occupied, on crossing the river, and had all been released by him. Some of these had been in Tippoo's hands for many years, and their joy at their unexpected release was unspeakable.
Preparations were now made for the siege. General Abercrombie was ordered up, with a force of six thousand men, but before his arrival, Lieutenant Chalmers was sent in with a letter from Tippoo, asking for terms of capitulation. Negotiations were indeed entered into, but, doubting Tippoo's good faith, the preparations for the siege were continued; and upon the arrival of General Abercrombie's force, on the 15th of February, siege operations were commenced at the end of the island still in British possession.
A few days afterwards, the army was astounded at hearing that the conditions had been agreed upon, and that hostilities were to cease at once. So great was the indignation, indeed, that a spirit of insubordination, and almost mutiny, was evinced by many of the corps. They had suffered extreme hardships, had been engaged in most arduous marches, had been decimated by fever and bad food, and they could scarce believe their ears when they heard that they were to hold their hands, now that, after a year's campaigning, Seringapatam was at their mercy; and that the man who had butchered so many hundred English captives, who had wasted whole provinces and carried half a million people into captivity, who had been guilty of the grossest treachery, and whose word was absolutely worthless, was to escape personal punishment.
Still higher did the indignation rise, both among officers and men, when the conditions of the treaty became known, and it was discovered that no stipulation whatever had been made for the handing over of the English prisoners still in Mysore, previous to a cessation of hostilities. This condition, at least, should have been insisted upon, and carried out previous to any negotiations being entered upon.
The reasons that induced Lord Cornwallis to make this treaty, when Seringapatam lay at his mercy, have ever been a mystery. Tippoo had proved himself a monster unfitted to live, much less to rule, and the crimes he had committed against the English should have been punished by the public trial and execution of their author. To conclude peace with him, now, was to enable him to make fresh preparations for war, and to necessitate another expedition at enormous cost and great loss of life. Tippoo had already proved that he was not to be bound either by treaties or oaths. And, lastly, it would have been thought that, as a general, Lord Cornwallis would have wished his name to go down to posterity in connection with the conquest of Mysore, and the capture of Seringapatam, rather than with the memorable surrender of York Town, the greatest disaster that ever befell a British army.
The conditions were, in themselves, onerous, and had they been imposed upon any other than a brutal and faithless tyrant, might have been deemed sufficient. Tippoo was deprived of half his dominions, which were to be divided among the allies, each taking the portions adjacent to their territory. A sum of 3,300,000 pounds was to be paid for the expenses of the war. All prisoners of the allied powers were to be restored.
Two of Tippoo's sons were to be given up as hostages. Even after they had been handed over, there were considerable delays before Tippoo's signature was obtained, and it was not until Lord Cornwallis threatened to resume hostilities that, on the 18th of March, a treaty was finally sealed. Of the ceded territory the Mahrattis and the Nizam each took a third as their share, although the assistance they had rendered in the struggle had been but of comparatively slight utility. It may, indeed, be almost said that it was given to them as a reward for not accepting the offers Tippoo had made them, of joining with him against the British.
The British share included a large part of the Malabar coast, with the forts of Calicut and Cananore, and the territory of our ally, the Rajah of Coorg. These cessions gave us the passes leading into Mysore from the west. On the south we gained possession of the fort of Dindegul, and the districts surrounding it; while on the east we acquired the tract from Amboor to Caroor, and so obtained possession of several important fortresses, together with the chief passes by which Hyder had made his incursions into the Carnatic.
Dick felt deeply the absence of any proviso, in the treaty, that all prisoners should be restored previous to a cessation of hostilities; at the same time admitting the argument of his uncle that, although under such an agreement some prisoners might be released, there was no means of insuring that the stipulation would be faithfully carried out.
"You see, Dick, no one knows, or has indeed the faintest idea, what prisoners Tippoo still has in his hands. We do not know how many have been murdered during the years Tippoo has reigned. Men who have escaped have, from time to time, brought down news of murders in the places where they had been confined, but they have known little of what has happened elsewhere. Moreover, we have learned that certainly fifty or sixty were put to death, at Seringapatam, before we advanced upon it the first time. We know, too, that some were murdered in the hill forts that we have captured. But how many remain alive, at the present time, we have not the slightest idea. Tippoo might hand over a dozen, and take a solemn oath that there was not one remaining; and though we might feel perfectly certain that he was lying, we should be in no position to prove it.
"The stipulation ought to have been made, if only as a matter of honour, but it would have been of no real efficiency. Of course, if we had dethroned Tippoo and annexed all his territory, we should undoubtedly have got at all the prisoners, wherever they were hidden. But we could hardly have done that. It would have aroused the jealousy and fear of every native prince in India. It would have united the Nizam and the Mahrattis against us, and would even have been disapproved of in England, where public opinion is adverse to further acquisitions of territory, and where people are, of course, altogether ignorant of the monstrous cruelties perpetrated by Tippoo, not only upon English captives, but upon his neighbours everywhere.
"Naturally, I am prejudiced in favour of this treaty, for the handing over of the country from Amboor to Caroor, with all the passes and forts, will set us free at Tripataly from the danger of being again overrun and devastated by Mysore. My people will be able to go about their work peacefully and in security, free alike from fear of wholesale invasion, or incursions of robber bands from the ghauts. All my waste lands will be taken up. My revenue will be trebled.
"There is another thing. Now that the English possess territory beyond that of the Nabob of Arcot, and are gradually spreading their power north, there can be little doubt that, before long, the whole country of Arcot, Travancore, Tanjore, and other small native powers will be incorporated in their dominions. Arcot is powerless for defence, and while, during the last two wars, it has been nominally an ally of the English, the Nabob has been able to give them no real assistance whatever, and the burden of his territory has fallen on them. They took the first step when, at the beginning of the present war, they arranged with him to utilise all the resources and collect the revenues of his possessions, and to allow him an annual income for the maintenance of his state and family. This is clearly the first step towards taking the territory into their own hands, and managing its revenues, and the same will be done in other cases.
"Lord Cornwallis the other day, in thanking me for the services that you and I and the troop have rendered, promised me that an early arrangement should be made, by which I should rule Tripataly under the government of Madras, instead of under the Nabob. This, you see, will be virtually a step in rank, and I shall hold my land direct from the English, instead of from a prince who has become, in fact, a puppet in their hands."
A few days later, the army set off on its march from Mysore, and the same day the Rajah, after making his adieus to Lord Cornwallis, started with his troop for Tripataly, making his way by long marches, instead of following the slow progress of the army. After a couple of days at Tripataly, they went down to Madras, and brought back the Rajah's household.
The meeting between Dick and his mother was one of mixed feeling. It was twenty months since the former had left with his uncle, and he was now nearly eighteen. He had written whenever there was an opportunity of sending any letters; and although his position as interpreter on the staff of the general had relieved her from any great anxiety on his account, she was glad, indeed, to see him again.
Upon the other hand, the fact that, as the war went on, and fortress after fortress had been captured, no news came to her that her hopes had been realised; and that the war had now come to a termination, without the mystery that hung over her husband being in any way cleared up, had profoundly depressed Mrs. Holland, and it was with mingled tears of pleasure and sorrow that she fell on his neck on his return to Madras.
"You must not give way, Mother," Dick said, as she sobbed out her fears that all hope was at an end. "Remember that you have never doubted he was alive, and that you have always said you would know if any evil fate had befallen him; and I have always felt confident that you were right. There is nothing changed. I certainly have not succeeded in finding him, but we have found many prisoners in some of the little out-of-the-way forts. Now, some of them have been captives quite as long as he has; therefore there is no reason, whatever, why he should not also be alive. I have no thought of giving up the search as hopeless. I mean to carry out our old plans; and certainly I am much better fitted to do so than I was when I first landed here. I know a great deal about Mysore, and although I don't say I speak the dialect like a native, I have learnt a good deal of it, and can speak it quite as well as the natives of the ghauts and outlying provinces. Surajah, who is a great friend of mine, has told me that if I go he will go too, and that will be a tremendous help. Anyhow, as long as you continue to believe firmly that Father is still alive, I mean to continue the search for him."
"I do believe that he is alive, Dick, as firmly as ever. I have not lost hope in that respect. It is only that I doubt now whether he will ever be found."
"Well, that is my business, Mother. As long as you continue to believe that he is still alive, I shall continue to search for him. I have no other object in life, at present. It will be quite soon enough for me to think of taking up the commission I have been promised, when you tell me that your feeling that he is alive has been shaken."
Mrs. Holland was comforted by Dick's assurance and confident tone, and, putting the thought aside for a time, gave herself up to the pleasure of his return. They had found everything at Tripataly as they had left it, for the Mysore horsemen had not penetrated so far north, before Tippoo turned his course east to Pondicherry. The people had, months before, returned to their homes and avocations.
One evening the Rajah said, as they were all sitting together: "I hear from my wife, Dick, that your mother has told her you still intend to carry out your original project."
"Yes, Uncle. I have quite made up my mind as to that. There are still plenty of places where he may be, and certainly I am a good deal more fitted for travelling about in disguise, in Mysore, than I was before."
The Rajah nodded.
"Yes. I think, Dick, you are as capable of taking care of yourself as anyone could be. I hear that Surajah is willing to go with you, and this will certainly be a great advantage. He has proved himself thoroughly intelligent and trustworthy, and I have promised him that someday he shall be captain of the troop. You are not thinking of starting just yet, I suppose?"
"No, Uncle. I thought of staying another month or two, before I go off again. Mother says she cannot let me go before that."
"I fancy it will take you longer than that, Dick, before you can pass as a native."
Dick looked surprised.
"Why, Uncle, I did pass as a native, eighteen months ago."
"Yes, you did, Dick; but for how long? You went into shops, bought things, chatted for a short time with natives, and so on; but that is not like living among them. You would be found out before you had been a single day in the company of a native."
Dick looked still more surprised.
"How, Uncle? What do I do that they would know me by."
"It is not what you do, Dick, but it is what you don't do. You can't sit on your heels--squat, as you call it. That is the habitual attitude of every native. He squats while he cooks. He squats for hours by the fire, smoking and talking. He never stands for any length of time and, except upon a divan or something of that sort, he never sits down. Before you can go and live among the natives, and pass as one for any length of time, you must learn to squat as they do, for hours at a stretch; and I can tell you that it is not by any means an easy accomplishment to learn. I myself have quite lost the power. I used to be able to do it, as a boy, but from always sitting on divans or chairs in European fashion, I have got out of the way of it, and I don't think I could squat for a quarter of an hour, to save my life."
Dick's mother and cousins laughed heartily, but he said, seriously, "You are quite right, Uncle. I wonder I never thought of it before. It was stupid of me not to do so. Of course, when I have been talking with Surajah or other officers, by a camp fire, I have sat on the ground; but I see that it would never do, in native dress. I will begin at once."
"Wait a moment, Dick," the Rajah said. "There are other things which you will have to practise. You may have to move in several disguises, and must learn to comport yourself in accordance with them. You must remember that your motions are quicker and more energetic than are those of people here. Your walk is different; the swing of the arms, your carriage, are all different from theirs. You are unaccustomed to walk either barefooted or in native shoes. Now, all these things have to be practised before you can really pass muster. Therefore I propose that you shall at once accustom yourself to the attire, which you can do in our apartments of an evening. The ranee and the boys will be able to correct your first awkwardness, and to teach you much.
"After a week or two, you must stain your face, arms, and legs, and go out with Rajbullub in the evening. You must keep your eyes open, and watch everything that passes, and do as you see others do. When Rajbullub thinks that you can pass muster, you will take to going out with him in the daylight, and so you will come, in time, to reach a point that it will be safe for you to begin your attempt.
"Do not watch only the peasants. There is no saying that it may not be necessary to take to other disguises. Observe the traders, the soldiers, and even the fakirs. You will see that they walk each with a different mien. The trader is slow and sober. The man who wears a sword walks with a certain swagger. The fakir is everything by turns; he whines, and threatens; he sometimes mumbles his prayers, and sometimes shrieks at the top of his voice.
"When you are not riding or shooting, lad, do not spend your time in the garden, or with the women. Go into the town and keep your eyes open. Bear in mind that you are learning a lesson, and that your life depends upon your being perfect in every respect.
"As to your first disguise, I will speak to Rajbullub, and he will get it ready by tomorrow evening. The dress of the peasant of Mysore differs little from that here, save that he wears rather more clothing than is necessary in this warm climate."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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10
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: In Disguise.
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On the following evening, Dick appeared in the room where the others were sitting, in the dress Rajbullub had got for him, and which was similar to that of other peasants. The boys had already been told that he was shortly going on a journey, and that it would be necessary for him to travel in disguise, but had been warned that it was a matter that was not to be spoken of, to anyone. The early respect, that Dick's strength and activity had inspired them with, had been much shaken when they discovered that he was unable either to ride or shoot; but their father's narrative of his adventures, when scouting with Surajah, had completely reinstated him in their high opinion.
When he entered, however, they burst out laughing. The two ladies could not help smiling, and Dick was not long before he joined in the laugh against himself. He had felt uncomfortable enough when he started, in an almost similar dress, with Surajah, although there was then no one to criticise his appearance. But now, in the presence of his mother and aunt, he felt strangely uncomfortable.
"Never mind, Dick," his uncle said, encouragingly. "The boys would feel just as uncomfortable as you do now, if they were dressed up in European fashion. Now, while we are talking, make your first attempt at sitting on your heels."
Dick squatted down until his knees nearly touched his chest, and a moment later lost his balance and toppled over, amid a roar of laughter. Next time, he balanced himself more carefully.
"That is right, Dick. You will get accustomed to it, in time. But you must see, already, that there is a good deal more to be done than you thought of, before you can pass as a native. Remember, you must not only be able to balance yourself while sitting still, but must be able to use your hands--for cooking purposes, for example; for eating; or for doing anything there may be to do--not only without losing your balance, but without showing that you are balancing yourself."
"It is much more difficult than I thought, Uncle. Of course, I have always seen the natives squatting like this, but it seemed so natural that it never struck me it was difficult at all. I say, it is beginning to hurt already. My shin bones are aching horribly."
"Yes; that is where the strain comes, my boy. But you have got to stick to it, until your muscles there, which have never been called into play in this way before, get accustomed to the work."
"I understand that, Uncle. It was just the same with my arms, when I began to climb. But I can't stand this any longer. I can no more get up than I can fly;" and Dick rolled over on to his side.
Again and again he tried, after a short rest between each trial. As he gave it up, and limped stiffly to the divan, he said: "I feel as if some one had been kicking me on the shins, until he had nearly broken them, Mother. I have been kicked pretty badly several times, in fights by rough fellows at home in Shadwell, but it never hurt like this;" and he rubbed his aching legs ruefully.
"Well, Uncle, I am very much obliged to you for putting me up to practising this position. It seemed to me that it would be quite a simple thing, to walk along quietly, and to move my arms about as they do; but I never thought of this.
"I wonder, Mother, you never told me that, above all things, I should have to learn to squat on my heels for any time. It would not have been so difficult to learn it, five or six years ago, when I was not anything like so heavy as I am now."
"It never once occurred to me, Dick. I wish it had. I thought I had foreseen every difficulty, but it never once came into my mind that, in order to pass as a native, you must be able to sit like one."
"Ah, well, I shall learn in time, Mother," Dick replied cheerfully. "Every exercise is hard at first, but one soon gets accustomed to it."
Dick threw himself with his usual energy into his new work. Although of a morning, when he first woke, his shins caused him the most acute pain, he always spent half an hour in practice. Afterwards he would sit for some time, allowing the water from the tap at the side of the bath to flow upon the aching muscles. Then he would dress and, as soon as breakfast was over, go for a run in the garden. At first it was but a shamble, but gradually the terrible stiffness would wear off, and he would return to the house comparatively well.
Of an evening the practice was longer, and was kept up until the aching pain became unendurable. At the end of four or five days, he was scarcely able to walk at all, but after that time matters improved, and three weeks later he could preserve the attitude for half an hour at a time.
In other respects, his training had gone on uninterruptedly every day. He went out into the town, accompanied sometimes by Rajbullub, sometimes by Surajah, in the disguises of either a peasant, a soldier, or a trader; and learnt to walk, and carry himself, in accordance with his dress. Before putting on these disguises, he painted himself with a solution that could easily be washed off, on his return to the palace, where he now always wore a European dress.
"You cannot be too careful," the Rajah said. "There are, of course, Mohammedans here; and, for aught we know, some may act as agents or spies of Tippoo, just as the English have agents and spies in Mysore. Were one of them to send word that you had taken to Indian attire, and that it was believed that you were about to undertake some mission or other, it would add considerably to your difficulties and dangers. As it is, no one outside our own circle ever sees you about with me or the boys, except in your European dress, and Rajbullub tells me that, in no single instance while you have been in disguise, has any suspicion been excited, or question asked by the people of various classes with whom you and he converse in the streets."
Another month passed, and by this time Dick could, without any great fatigue, squat on his heels for an hour at a time. As the date for his departure drew near, his mother became more and more nervous and anxious.
"I shall never forgive myself, if you do not come back," she said one day, when they were alone. "I cannot but feel that I have been selfish, and that really, on the strength of a conviction which most people would laugh at as whimsical and absurd, I am risking the substance for a shadow, and am imperilling the life of my only boy, upon the faint chance that he may find my husband. I know that even your uncle, although he has always been most kind about it, and assisted in every way in his power, has but little belief in the success of your search; although, as he sees how bent I am upon it, he says nothing that might dash my hopes.
"If evil comes of it, Dick, I shall never forgive myself. I shall feel that I have sacrificed you to a sort of hallucination."
"I can only say, Mother," Dick replied, "that I came out here, and entered into your plans, only because I had the most implicit faith that you were right. I should now continue it on my own account, even if tomorrow you should be taken from me. Of course, I see plainly enough that the chances are greatly against my ever hearing anything of Father; but from what has taken place during the campaign, I have seen that there must be many British captives still hidden away among the hill forts, and it is quite possible he may be among them. I do not even say that it is probable, but the chances are not so very greatly against it; and even if I thought they were smaller--much smaller than I believe them to be--I should still consider it my duty to go up and try and find him. So, even if it should happen that I never come back again, you will not have yourself to blame, for it is not you that are sending me, but I who am going of my free will; and indeed, I feel it so much my duty that, even were you to turn round now and ask me to stay, I should still think it right to undertake this mission.
"But indeed, Mother, I see no great danger in it; in fact, scarcely any danger at all--at any rate, unless I find Father. If I do so, there might certainly be risk in attempting to get him away; but this, if I am lucky enough in discovering him, will not weigh with me for an instant. If I do not find him, it seems to me that the risk is a mere nothing. Surajah and I will wander about, enlisting in the garrisons of forts. Then, if we find there are no prisoners there, we shall take an early opportunity of getting away. In some places, no doubt, I shall be able to learn from men of the garrison whether there are prisoners, without being forced to enter at all; for although in the great forts, like Savandroog and Outradroog, it is considered so important the defences should be kept secret, that none of the garrison are allowed to leave until they are discharged as too old for service, there is no occasion for the same precaution in the case of less important places. Thus, you see, we shall simply have to wander about, keeping our eyes and ears open, and finding out, either from the peasants or the soldiers themselves, whether there are any prisoners there."
"I wish I could go with you, Dick. I used to think that, when the work of searching for your father had begun, I could wait patiently for the result; but instead of that, I find myself even more anxious and more nervous than I was at Shadwell."
"I can quite understand, Mother, that it is very much more trying work, sitting here waiting, than it is to be actively engaged. The only thing is, that you must promise me not to trouble more than you can help; for if I think of you as sitting here fretting about me, I shall worry infinitely more than I otherwise should over any difficulties we may have to encounter. You must remember that I shall have Surajah with me. He is a capital companion, and will always be able to advise me upon native business. He is as plucky as a fellow can be, and I can trust him to do anything, just as I would myself."
The preparations for departure now began in earnest. There was some discussion as to the arms that were to be taken, but at last it was decided that, with safety, they could carry nothing beyond a matchlock, a pistol, and a sword each.
Great pains were taken in the selection of the matchlocks. In the armoury were several weapons of high finish, with silver mountings, that had belonged to the Rajah's father and grandfather. These were tried against each other, and the two that were proved to be the most accurate were chosen. Dick found, indeed, that at distances up to a hundred yards, they were quite equal to the English rifle he had brought out. The silver mountings were taken off, and then the pieces differed in no way, in appearance, from those in general use among the peasantry.
The pistols were chosen with equal care. The swords were of finely tempered steel, the blades being removed from their jewelled handles, for which were substituted rough handles of ordinary metal.
Ten gold pieces were sewn up underneath the iron bands encircling the leathern scabbard, as many under the bosses of their shields, and five pieces in the soles of each of their shoes. In their waist sashes, the ordinary receptacle of money, each carried a small bag with native silver coins.
At last all was ready and, an hour before daybreak, Dick took a cheerful farewell of his mother, and a hearty one of his uncle, and, with Surajah, passed through the town and struck up into the hills. Each carried a bag slung over his shoulder, well filled with provisions, a small water bottle, and, hung upon his matchlock, a change of clothing. In the folds of his turban, Dick had a packet of the powder used for making dye, so that he could, at any time, renew the brown shade, when it began to fade out.
For a time but few words were spoken. Dick knew that, although his mother had borne up bravely till the last, she would break down as soon as he left her; and the thought that he might never see her again weighed heavily upon him. Surajah, on the contrary, was filled with elation at the prospect of adventures and dangers, and he was silent simply because he felt that, for the present, his young lord was in no humour for speech.
As soon as the sun rose, Dick shook off his depression. They were now a considerable distance up the hillside. There was no path, for the people of Tripataly had no occasion to visit Mysore, and still less desire for a visit from the Mysoreans. Periodically, raids were made upon the villages and plains by marauders from the hills, but these were mostly by the passes through the ghauts, thirty or forty miles left or right from the little state which, nestling at the foot of the hills, for the most part escaped these visitations--which, now that the British had become possessed of the territories and the hills, had, it was hoped, finally ceased. Nevertheless, the people were always prepared for such visits. Every cultivator had a pit in which he stored his harvest, except so much as was needed for his immediate wants. The pit was lined with mats, others were laid over the grain. Two feet of soil was then placed over the mats and, after the ground had been ploughed, there was no indication of the existence of the hiding place.
The town itself was surrounded by a wall, of sufficient strength to withstand the attacks of any parties of marauders; and the custom of keeping a man on a watch tower was still maintained. At the foot of the tower stood a heavy gun, whose discharge would at once warn the peasants for miles round of an enemy, calling those near to hasten to the shelter of the town, while the men of the villages at a distance could hurry, with their wives and families, to hiding places among the hills.
Dick and Surajah had no need of a path, for they were well acquainted with the ground, and had often wandered up, nearly to the crest of the hills, in pursuit of game. An hour before noon, they took their seats under a rock that shaded them from the sun's rays and, sitting down, partook of a hearty meal. There was no occasion for haste, and they prepared for rest until the heat of the day was passed.
"We are fairly off now, Surajah," Dick said, as he stretched himself out comfortably. "I have been thinking of this almost as long as I can remember, and can hardly believe that it has come to pass."
"I have thought of it but a short time, my lord."
"No, no, Surajah," Dick interrupted. "You know it was arranged that, from the first, you were to call me Purseram, for unless you get accustomed to it, you will be calling me 'my lord' in the hearing of others."
"I had forgotten," Surajah replied with a smile, and then went on. "It is but a short time since I was sure I was going with you, but I have ever hoped that the time would come when, instead of the dull work of drilling men and placing them on guard, I might have the opportunity of taking part in war and adventure, and indeed had thought of asking my lord, your uncle, to permit me to go away for a while in one of the Company's regiments, and there to learn my business. Since the English have become masters, and there is no longer war between rajah and rajah, as there used to be in olden times, this is the only way that a man of spirit can gain distinction. But this adventure is far better, for there will be much danger, and need for caution as well as courage."
Dick nodded.
"More for caution and coolness than for courage, I think, Surajah. It will only be in case we find my father, or if any grave suspicion falls on us, that there will be need for courage. Once well into Mysore, I see but little chance of suspicion falling upon us. We have agreed that we will first make for Seringapatam, avoiding as much as possible all places on the way where inquiries whence we come may be made of us. Once in the city, we shall be safe from such questions, and can travel thence where we will; and it will be hard if we do not, when there, manage to learn the places at which any prisoners there may be are most likely to be kept.
"Besides, my father is as likely to be there as anywhere, for Tippoo may, since our army marched away, have ordered all prisoners to be brought down from the hill forts to Seringapatam."
When the sun had lost its power, they proceeded on their way again. Their start had been timed so that, for the first week, they would have moonlight; and would, therefore, be able to travel at night until they arrived at Seringapatam. It was considered that it was only necessary to do this for the first two or three nights as, after that, the tale that they were coming from a village near the frontier, and were on their way to join Tippoo's army, would seem natural enough to any villagers who might question them.
They continued their course until nearly midnight, by which time they were both completely fatigued, and, choosing a spot sheltered by bushes, lay down to sleep. It took another two days before they were clear of the broken country, and the greater portion of this part of the journey they performed in daylight. Occasionally they saw, in the distance, the small forts which guarded every road to the plateau. To these they always gave a very wide berth, as although, according to the terms of peace, they should all have been evacuated, they might still be occupied by parties of Tippoo's troops.
Indeed, all the news that had arrived, since the army left, represented Tippoo as making every effort to strengthen his army and fortresses, and to prepare for a renewal of the war.
Several times they saw bears, which abounded among the ghauts, and once beheld two tigers crossing a nullah. They had, however, other matters to think of, and neither the flesh nor the skins of the bears would have been of any use to them. The work was severe, and they were glad when at last they reached the level country. In some of the upper valleys, opening on to this, they had seen small villages. Near one of these they had slept, and as in the morning they saw that the inhabitants were Hindoos, they fearlessly went out and talked with them, in order to gain some information as to the position of the forts, and to learn whether any bodies of Tippoo's troops were likely to be met with.
They found the people altogether ignorant on these matters. They were simple peasants. Their whole thoughts were given to tilling their land, and bringing in sufficient to live upon, and to satisfy the demands of the tax gatherers when they visited them. They had little communication with other villages, and knew nothing of what was passing outside their own. They evinced no curiosity whatever concerning their visitors, who bought from them some cakes of ground ragee, which formed the chief article of their food.
The country through which they passed, on emerging from the hills, was largely covered with bush and jungle, and was very thinly populated. It was an almost unbroken flat, save that here and there isolated masses of rock rose above it. These were extremely steep and inaccessible, and on their summits were the hill forts that formed so prominent a feature in the warfare of both Mysore and the Nizam's dominions to the north. These forts were, for the most part, considered absolutely impregnable, but the last war with the British had proved that they were not so, as several of the strongest had been captured, with comparatively slight loss.
Whenever they passed within a few miles of one of these hill fortresses, Dick looked at it with anxious eyes; for there, for aught he knew, his father might be languishing.
After two days' walking across the plain, they felt that there was no longer any necessity for concealment, except that it would be as well to avoid an encounter with any troops. Although, therefore, they avoided the principal roads, they kept along beaten paths, and did not hesitate to enter villages to buy food.
They no longer saw caste marks on the foreheads of the inhabitants. The Hindoos had been compelled by force to abandon their religion, all who refused to do so being put to death at once. Dick and Surajah found that their dialect differed much more from that of the country below the ghauts than they had expected and, although they had no difficulty in conversing with the peasants, they found that their idea that they would be able to pass as natives of one of these villages was an altogether erroneous one.
"This will never do, Surajah," Dick said, as they left one of the villages. "We shall have to alter our story somehow, for the first person we meet, in Seringapatam, will see that we are not natives of Mysore. We must give out that we come from some village far down on the ghauts--one of those which have been handed over to the English by the new treaty. You know the country well enough there to be able to answer any questions that may be asked. We must say that, desiring to be soldiers, and hating the English raj, we have crossed the hills to take service of some sort in Mysore. This will be natural enough: and of course there are many Mohammedans down in the plains, especially among the villages on the ghauts."
"I think that would be best, Purseram."
"There is one comfort," Dick went on. "It is evident that Tippoo is hated by all the Hindoos. He has forced them to change their religion, and we need have no fear of being betrayed by any of them, except from pressure, or from a desire to win Tippoo's goodwill."
"Yes, that might be the case with those who are fairly well off, but would scarcely be so among the poorer classes. Besides, even they, were we living among them, would have no reason for suspecting our story. There seems no doubt, from what they say, that Tippoo is preparing for war again, and I think that we shall do well, as soon as we enter the city, to change our attire, or we might be forced into joining the army, which would be the last thing we want. What I should desire, above all things, is to get service of some kind in the Palace."
After six days' travel, they saw the walls of Seringapatam. Dick had made many inquiries, at the last halting place, as to the position of the fords on that side of the town; and learned that only those leading to the fort were guarded. The ford opposite the town was freely open to traffic, and could be crossed without question by country people, although a watch was kept to see that none of the very numerous prisoners escaped by it.
It was here, therefore, that they crossed the river, the water being little more than knee deep. No questions were asked by the guard as they passed, their appearance differing in no way from that of the peasants of the neighbourhood.
After a quarter of a mile's walk they entered the town. It was open, and undefended by a wall. The streets were wide, and laid out at right angles. The shops, however, were poor, for the slightest appearance of wealth sufficed to excite the cupidity of Tippoo or his agents, and the possessor would be exposed to exorbitant demands, which, if not complied with, would have entailed first torture and then death.
The streets, however, presented a busy appearance. They were thronged with soldiers. Battalions of recruits passed along, and it was evident that Tippoo was doing all in his power to raise the strength of his army to its former level. They wandered about for some time, and at last, in a small street, Dick went up to an old man whose face pleased him. He was standing at the door of his house.
"We desire to find a room where we can lodge for a time," he said. "Can you direct us where we can obtain one?"
"You are not soldiers?" the old man asked.
"No. We desire to earn our living, but have not yet decided whether to join the army."
"You are from the plains?" the native said sharply, in their own dialect.
"That is so," Dick replied.
"And yet you are Mohammedans?"
"Every one is Mohammedan here."
"Ah! Because it is the choice of 'death or Mohammed.' How comes it that two young men should voluntarily leave their homes to enter this tiger's den? You look honest youths. How come you here?"
"I trust that we are honest," Dick said. "We have assuredly not ventured here without a reason, and that reason is a good one; but this is not a city where one talks of such matters to a stranger in the street, even though his face tells one that he can be trusted with a secret."
The old man was silent for a minute; then he said: "Come in, my sons. You can, as you say, trust me. I have a room that you can occupy."
They followed him into the house, and he led them into a small room at the back. It was poorly furnished, but was scrupulously clean. A pan of lighted charcoal stood in one corner, and over this a pot of rice was boiling.
"I bid you welcome," he said gravely.
And as the salutation was not one in use by the Mohammedans, Dick saw that his idea that the old man was a Hindoo, who had been forced to abjure his religion, was a correct one. The old man motioned to them to take their seats on the divan.
"I do not ask for your confidence," he said, "but if you choose to give it to me, it will be sacred, and it may be that, poor as I am, I am able to aid you. I will tell you at once that I am a native of Conjeveram and, of course, a Hindoo. I was settled as a trader at Mysore, the old capital. But when, four years ago, the tyrant destroyed that town, I, with over a hundred thousand of our religion, was forced to adopt Mohammedanism. I was of high caste and, like many others, would have preferred death to yielding, had it not been that I had a young daughter; and for her sake I lived, and moved here from Mysore.
"I gained nothing by my sin. I was one of the wealthiest traders in the whole city, and I had been here but a month when Tippoo's soldiers burst in one day. My daughter was carried off to the Tiger's harem, and I was threatened with torture, unless I divulged the hiding place of my money.
"It was useless to resist. My wealth was now worthless to me, and without hesitation I complied with their demands; and all I had was seized, save one small hoard, which was enough to keep me thus to the end of my days. My wants are few: a handful of rice or grain a day, and I am satisfied. I should have put an end to my life, were it not that, according to our religion, the suicide is accursed; and, moreover, I would fain live to see the vengeance that must some day fall upon the tyrant.
"After what I have said, it is for you to decide whether you think I can be trusted with your secret, for I am sure it is for no slight reason that you have come to this accursed city."
Dick felt that he could safely speak, and that he would find in this native a very valuable ally. He therefore told his story without concealment. Except that an exclamation of surprise broke from his lips, when Dick said that he was English, the old man listened without a remark until he had finished.
"Your tale is indeed a strange one," he said, when he had heard the story. "I had looked for something out of the ordinary, but assuredly for nothing so strange as this. Truly you English are a wonderful people. It is marvellous that one should come, all the way from beyond the black water, to seek for a father lost so many years ago. Methinks that a blessing will surely alight upon such filial piety, and that you will find your father yet alive.
"Were it not for that, I should deem your search a useless one. Thousands of Englishmen have been massacred during the last ten years. Hundreds have died of disease and suffering. Many have been poisoned. Many officers have also been murdered, some of them here, but more in the hill forts; for it was there they were generally sent, when their deaths were determined upon.
"Still, he may live. There are men who have been here as many years, and who yet survive."
"Then this is where the main body of the prisoners were kept?" Dick asked.
"Yes. All were brought here, native and English. Tens of thousands of boys and youths, swept up by Tippoo's armies from the Malabar coast and the Carnatic, were brought up here and formed into battalions, and these English prisoners were forced to drill them. It was but a poor drill. I have seen them drilling their recruits at Conjeveram, and the difference between the quick sharp order there, and the listless command here, was great indeed. Consequently, the Englishmen were punished by being heavily ironed, and kept at starvation point for the slackness with which they obeyed the tyrant's orders. Sometimes they were set to sweep the streets, sometimes they were beaten till they well nigh expired under the lash. Often would they have died of hunger, were it not that Tippoo's own troops took pity on them, and supplied them from their store.
"Some of the boys, drummer boys, or ship's boys, or little ship's officers, were kept in the Palace and trained as singers and dancers for Tippoo's amusement. Very many of the white prisoners were handed over to Tippoo by Admiral Sufferin. Though how a Christian could have brought himself to hand over Christians to this tiger, I cannot imagine.
"Others were captured in forays, and there were, till lately, many survivors of the force that surrendered in Hyder's time. There are certainly some in other towns, for it was the policy of Hyder, as it is of Tippoo, always to break up parties of prisoners. Many were sent to Bangalore, some to Burrampore, and very many to the fort of Chillembroom; but I heard that nearly all these died of famine and disease very quickly.
"While Tippoo at times considers himself strong enough to fight the English, and is said to aim at the conquest of all southern India, he has yet a fear of Englishmen, and he thus separates his captives, lest, if they were together, they should plot against him and bring about a rising. He knows that all the old Hindoo population are against him, and that even among the Mohammedans he is very unpopular. The Chelah battalions, who numbered twelve or fourteen thousand, made up entirely of those he has dragged from their homes in districts devastated by him, would assuredly have joined against him, were there a prospect of success, just as they seized the opportunity to desert six months ago, when the English attacked the camp across the river.
"Now, if you will tell me in what way I can best serve you, I will do so. In the first place, sturdy young peasants are wanted for the army, and assuredly you will not be here many days before you will find yourselves in the ranks, whether you like it or not; for Tippoo is in no way particular how he gets recruits."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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11
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: A Useful Friend.
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"I agree with you that it would be a disadvantage to go as a soldier," Dick said, after a pause; "but what disguise would you recommend us to choose?"
"That I must think over. You both look too straight and active to be employed as the assistants of a trader, or I could have got some of my friends to take you in that capacity. The best disguise will be a gayer attire, such as would be worn by the retainers of some of the chiefs; and were it not that, if questioned, you could not say who was your employer, that is what I should recommend."
"I saw a number of men working at a battery they are erecting by the river side. Could we not take service there until something better presents itself?"
"I should not advise that," the native replied, "for the work is very hard, and the pay poor. Indeed, most of those employed on it are men driven in from the country round and forced to labour, getting only enough pay to furnish them with the poorest food. There would also be the disadvantage that, if you were so employed, you would have no opportunity of seeing any English captives who may have been brought here of late.
"All that I can at present do, myself, is to speak to some of my friends who have been here for a long time, and ask them whether they can remember an English captive being sent up here from Coorg, some eight years ago, and whether they ever heard what was his fate. I should say, of course, that I have received a message from friends at Conjeveram; that some of the man's relations have sent out to make inquiries concerning him, and asking me if I can find any news as to his fate. My friends may not know themselves, but they may be able to find out from others. Very many of our people were forced into the ranks of the army, and there is not a regiment which has not some men who, although regarded as Mohammedans, are still at heart, as we all are, as true to our faith as ever.
"It is from these that we are more likely to obtain information than in any other way. You will not be very long before you will be able to satisfy yourself as to whether or not he whom you seek is in this city; and if he should not be here, there remain but the two towns that I have named, and the hill forts. As to these, it will be well-nigh impossible to obtain an entrance, so jealously are they all guarded. None save the garrisons are allowed to enter. The paths, which are often so steep and difficult that men and provisions have to be slung up in baskets, are guarded night and day, and none are allowed to approach the foot of the rocks within musket shot--lest, I suppose, they might find some spot where an ascent could be made. The garrisons are seldom changed. The soldiers are allowed to take their wives and families up with them, but once there, they are as much prisoners as those in the dungeons. That is one reason why captives once sent up there never come down again, for were they to do so they might, if by chance they escaped, be able to give information as to the approaches that would assist an assailing force.
"I do not say that all are killed, though undoubtedly most of them are put to death soon after they arrive; but it may be that some are retained in confinement, either from no orders being sent for their execution, or from their very existence being, in time, forgotten by the tyrant here. Some of these may languish in dungeons, others may have gained the goodwill of the commanders of the fort--for even among the Mohammedans there are doubtless many good and merciful men.
"Now for the present. This house has but one storey in front, but there is a room over this, and that is at your service. Furniture it has none, but I will, this evening, get a couple of trusses of straw. It is but a loft, but you will not want to use it, save to sleep in. You need not fear interruption in this house. There is scarce a man here that is not, like myself, a Hindoo, for when we were brought here from Mysore, the piece of ground on which the street stands was assigned to us, and we were directed to build houses here. Few besides ourselves ever enter it, for those who still carry on trade have booths in the marketplace.
"There is one thing I will tell you at once. We, the persecuted, have means of recognising each other. Outward signs there are none, neither caste mark nor peculiarity of dress; but we know each other by signs. When we salute, we turn in the thumbs as we raise our hands to our turbans--so. If we have no occasion to salute, as we move our hands, either to stroke our faces, or to touch the handles of our daggers, or in other way, we keep the thumb turned in. If the man be one of ourselves, he replies in the same way. Then, to prevent the possibility of error, the one asks the other a question--on what subject it matters not, providing that before he speaks, he coughs slightly.
"You must remember that such communication is not made lightly. Were it to be so, it would soon attract notice. It is used when you want to know whether you can trust a man. It is as much as to say, 'Are you a friend? Can I have confidence in you? Will you help me?' --and you can see that there are many occasions on which such knowledge may be most useful, even to the saving of life."
"I do indeed see it," Dick said, "and greatly are we indebted to you for telling us of it."
They remained talking with their host, whose name was, he told them, Pertaub, until darkness came on. They had shared his rice with him, and had requested him to lay in such provision as was necessary for them; and as soon as it became dark they went out, leaving their guns behind them.
Busy as the main streets were when they had before passed through them, they were very much more so now. The shops were all lighted up by lanterns or small lamps, and the streets were filled with troops, now dismissed from duty, and bent, some on amusement, some in purchasing small additions to their rations with the scanty pay allowed to them. In the open spaces, the soldiers were crowded round performers of various kinds. Here was a juggler throwing balls and knives into the air. There was a snake charmer--a Hindoo, doubtless, but too old and too poor to be worth persecuting. A short distance off was an acrobat turning and twisting himself into strange postures.
Two sword players, with bucklers and blunted tulwars, played occasionally against each other, and offered to engage any of the bystanders. Occasionally the invitation would be accepted, but the sword players always proved too skilful for the rough soldiers, who retired discomfited, amid the jeers of their comrades.
More than one party of musicians played what seemed to Dick most discordant music, but which was appreciated by the soldiers, as was evident from the plaudits and the number of small coins thrown to the players. In the great open space, by the side of the market, the crowd was thickest. Here were large numbers of booths, gay with lamps. In one were arranged, on tables, trays of cheap trinkets, calicoes, cloths, blankets, shoes, and other articles of dress. In another were arms, matchlocks, pistols, tulwars, and daggers. On the ground were lines of baskets, filled with grain of many kinds, the vendors squatting patiently behind them. Some of the traders volubly accosted passers by. Others maintained a dignified silence, as if they considered the excellence of their wares needed no advertisement.
It was not new, but it was very amusing to Dick, and it was late before they returned to their lodging.
"I wish," he said, as they strolled back, "that I were a good juggler or musician. It seems to me that it would be an excellent disguise, and we could go everywhere without question, and get admittance into all sorts of places we could not get a chance of entering into in any other way."
"Yes, that would be a good thing," Surajah agreed; "but I am sure that I could not do anything, even if you could."
"No, I quite see that, and I am not thinking of trying; but it would have been a first-rate plan."
"You are very good at sword play," Surajah suggested, although somewhat doubtfully.
Dick laughed.
"The first really good swordsman that came along would make an exhibition of me. No; one would have to do something really well."
The subject was renewed, after they had seated themselves with Pertaub.
"It would be an excellent disguise," he agreed. "A good juggler could gain admission to the Palace, and might even enter forts where no others could set foot; for life there is dull, indeed, and anyone who could amuse the soldiers would be certain of a welcome, and even a governor might be willing to see his feats."
"Could one bribe a conjurer to let one pass as his assistant?"
"That would be impossible," the Hindoo said, "for an assistant would have opportunities for learning the tricks, and no money would induce a really good juggler to divulge his secrets, which have been passed down from father to son for centuries."
"If one had thought of it," Dick said, "one could have bought, in London, very many things which would have seemed almost magical to the people here. I am afraid that we must go on, on our old line. It is a pity, for the other would have been first rate."
"I have obtained for you, this evening, two suits of clothes such as we spoke of. In them you can pass as followers of some petty rajah, and are not likely to attract attention. I have inquired among some of my friends, and hear that the Rajah of Bohr left here today with his following. He is but a petty chief, and Bohr lies up north, close to the Nizam's frontier. Thus, if you should be asked in whose service you are, you will have a name to give, and there will be no fear of your being contradicted.
"If you are still further questioned by anyone with a right to ask, you can say that you were told to remain here, in order to see how fast the drilling of the troops went on, and to send the Rajah a report when it is time for him to return here to accompany Tippoo on his march. You will, of course, account for your dialect by keeping to your present story, that you came from a village on the ghauts, in order to enter the service of one of our rajahs; and that your father having, years ago, been a soldier in the pay of the Rajah of Bohr, you made your way there direct, instead of coming to the capital."
"That will do excellently, Pertaub. It was a fortunate moment, indeed, that brought us to your door."
"I have done nothing as yet, Sahib; but I hope that, in time, I may be able to be of use to you. It was fortunate for me as well as for you, perhaps, that you stopped at my door. Of late I have had nothing to think of, save my own grief and troubles, but now I have something to give an interest to my life, and already I feel that I need not merely drag it on, until I am relieved of its burden.
"And now, Sahibs, I am sure that rest must be needful for you, and would recommend that you seek your beds at once."
On the following morning, Pertaub brought up the garments that he had bought for them. Nothing could be more irregular than the dress of the armed retainers of an Indian rajah. All attire themselves according to their fancy. Some carry spears and shields, others matchlocks. Some wear turbans, others iron caps. The cut and colour of their garments are also varied in the extreme.
Dick's dress consisted of a steel cap, with a drooping plume of red horsehair, and a red tunic with a blue sash. Over it was worn a skirt of linked mail which, with leggings fitting tightly, completed the costume. Surajah had a red turban, a jerkin of quilted leather, with iron scales fastened on to protect the shoulders and chest. A scarlet kilt hung to his knees, and his legs were enclosed in putties, or swathes, of coarse cloth, wound round and round them. He wore a blue and gold girdle.
Dick laughed as he surveyed the appearance of himself and Surajah.
"We are a rum-looking couple," he said, "but I have seen plenty of men, just as gaudy, in the train of some of the rajahs who visited the camp when we were up here. I think that it is a much better disguise than the one we wore yesterday. I sha'n't be afraid that the first officer we meet will ask us to what regiment we belong. There were scores of fellows lounging about in the streets last night, dressed as we are."
Sticking their swords and pistols into their girdles, they sallied out, and were pleased to find that no one paid the slightest attention to them. They remained in the town until some battalions of recruits poured out from the fort, to drill on the grounds between it and the town. The first four that passed were, as Dick learnt from the remarks of some of the bystanders, composed entirely of boys--some of them Christians, thirty thousand of whom had been carried off by Tippoo, in his raid on Travancore; and the young men were compelled to serve, after being obliged to become, nominally, Mohammedans. After the Chelah battalions came those of Tippoo's army.
"These fellows look as if they could fight," Dick said. "They are an irregular lot, and don't seem to have an idea of keeping line, or marching in step, but they are an active-looking set of fellows, and carry themselves well. As to the Chelahs, I should say they would be no good whatever, even if they could be relied on, which we know they cannot be. They look dejected and miserable, and I suppose hate it all as much as their officers do. I should back half a regiment of English to lick the twelve battalions. I wonder Tippoo, himself, does not see that troops like these must be utterly useless."
"I don't expect he thinks they would be of much use," Surajah agreed. "He only turned them into soldiers to gratify his hatred of them."
Leaving the troops, they walked on and entered the great fort, which enclosed an area of nearly two square miles. In this were Tippoo's palace, his storehouses--containing grain sufficient for the garrison, for a siege of many months--mosques, the residences of Tippoo's officials and officers, the arsenals, and the huts for the troops. There was also a street of shops, similar to those in the town.
Wandering about, unquestioned, they came presently upon a scene that filled Dick with indignation and fury. Two white officers, heavily ironed, were seated on the ground. Another, similarly ironed, lay stretched beside them. He was naked from the waist up. His back was covered with blood, and he had evidently been recently flogged, until he fell insensible. Half a dozen savage-looking men, evidently executioners of Tippoo's orders, were standing round, jeering at the prisoners and refusing their entreaties to bring some water for their comrade.
"You brutes!" one of the captives exclaimed, in English. "I would give all my hopes of liberty, for ten minutes face to face with you, with swords in our hands."
"They would not be of much use to us," the other said quietly. "It is four days since we had a mouthful of food, and they would make very short work of us."
"All the better," the other exclaimed. "Death would be a thousand-fold preferable to this misery."
Dick felt that, if he remained longer, he would be unable to contain himself; and turning hastily away, walked off, accompanied by Surajah.
"It is awful!" he exclaimed, with tears running down his cheeks; "and to be able to do nothing! What must Father have gone through! I think, Surajah, that if we were to come upon Tippoo I should go for him, even if he were surrounded by guards. Of course it would cost me my life. If I could kill him, I think I should not mind it. Such a villain is not fit to live; and at any rate, whoever came after him, the prisoners could not be worse off than they are now.
"Let us go back. I have had enough for this morning."
When they returned, Dick told Pertaub of the scene that he had witnessed.
"Many of them have been starved to death," the old man said. "Possibly one of their companions may have tried to escape. It is to prevent this that Tippoo's greatest cruelties are perpetrated. It is not so very difficult to get away, and take to the jungle. Some have succeeded, but most of them are retaken, for a watch is vigilantly kept up, at every village and every road leading on to the frontier; and if caught, they are hung or forced to take poison. But whether they are caught or not, Tippoo's vengeance falls upon their companions. These are flogged, ironed, and kept without rations for weeks--living, if they do live, upon the charity of their guards.
"This is why there are so few attempts at escape. A man knows that, whether he himself gets off or not, he dooms his companions to torture, perhaps death. One case I remember, in which an English sailor, one out of nine, attempted to get away. He was captured and killed at once, and his eight companions were all hung. So you see, even if one of the captives sees a chance of escape, he does not take it, because of the consequences that would fall upon his companions."
"It is horrible," Dick said, "and I can quite understand why so few escape. The question for me, now, is whether there are any prisoners kept in dungeons here."
"Not here, I think. Tippoo's policy is to make all his captives useful, and though one might be ironed and confined for a time, I do not think that any are so kept, permanently, here. There were, of course, some confined to the fort by illness, and some in irons. It may need some little search, before you are quite sure that you have seen every one. However, I will try to find out how many there are there, and to get as many of the names as possible. Some of my friends, who keep shops in the fort, may be able to do this for me. This would shorten your task.
"But I cannot hold out any hopes that you will find him whom you seek in the city. It is among the hill forts you will find him, if he be alive. I have been turning the matter over, since you spoke to me last night, and the best plan I can think of is, that you should go as a travelling merchant, with Surajah as your assistant. You would want a good assortment of goods; fine muslins and silks, and a good selection of silver jewellery, from different parts of India. All these I could purchase for you here. If, by good luck, you could obtain a sight of the commander of one of these forts, you might possibly obtain permission from him to go up, and show your wares to the ladies of his establishment, and to those of other officers. The present of a handsome waist sash, or a silver-mounted dagger, might incline him favourably to your petition."
"I think that the idea is an excellent one," Dick said warmly. "If we cannot get in in that way, there seems to me to be no chance, save by taking a careful survey of the fortress, to discover where the rocks can be most easily climbed. There must surely be some spots, even among the steepest crags, where active fellows like Surajah and myself would be able to scale them. Of course, we should have to do it after dark; but once up there, one ought to be able to move about in the fort without difficulty, as we should, of course, be dressed as soldiers, and could take dark blankets to wrap round us. We ought then to be able to find where any prisoners who may be there are confined. There might be a sentry at the door, or, if there were no other way, one might pounce upon someone, force him by threats to tell us what prisoners there are, and where they are confined; and then bind and gag him, and stow him away where there would be no chance of his being discovered before daylight."
"There would be a terrible risk in such a matter," Pertaub said, shaking his head gravely.
"No doubt there would be risk, but we came here prepared to encounter danger, and if it were well managed, I don't see why we should be found out. Even if we were, we ought to be able to slip away, in the darkness, and make our way to the point where we went up. Once down on the plain, we could renew our disguise as traders, and, however hotly they scoured the country, pass without suspicion through them.
"I think that there will be more chance, in that way, than in going in as traders; for we should, in that case, have little chance of walking about, still less of questioning anyone. However, it is worth trying that first. We can always fall back upon the other, if it fails. We might, on our first visit, obtain indications that would be very useful to us on our second."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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12
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: A Tiger In A Zenana.
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Another week passed, and by the end of that time, Dick was perfectly assured that his father was not at Seringapatam. It was then a question which of the hill forts to try first. Pertaub had already procured for them an assortment of goods and dresses, suitable for travelling merchants, and the purchase of these things had drawn heavily on their stock of money; although several of the traders, on receiving a hint from Pertaub of the purpose for which the goods were required, had given many articles without charge; while for the majority of the goods Dick gave an order on his mother, who had told him that he could draw up to five hundred pounds.
On the day before they were about to start, their plans were interrupted by the issue of a proclamation, saying that sports with wild beasts would take place on the following day; and they agreed that, as one day would make no difference, they would stop to see them, especially as Tippoo himself would be present. Hitherto, although they had several times seen him being carried in his palanquin, they had had no opportunity of observing him closely, as he was always surrounded by his guards.
The sports were held in a great square in the fort. A strong network was erected in a semicircle, of which the Palace formed the base. Behind the network, the spectators ranged themselves. Tippoo occupied a window in the Palace, looking down into the square. There were always a number of wild beasts in Seringapatam, available for these purposes, as a regular supply of tigers, leopards, and wild elephants was caught and sent in every month. Six of the largest tigers were always kept, in cages, in the courtyard in front of the Palace; and to these were thrown state criminals, or officials who had offended the tyrant, and were devoured by them.
In his younger days, Tippoo had been very fond of the chase, but he was now too fat and heavy, and seldom ventured on horseback.
Dick and Surajah, who had arrived early, had placed themselves at the corner, where the network touched the Palace. Some thirty yards in front of them, a balcony projected. It was enclosed by a thick lattice work. From behind this, the ladies of Tippoo's harem viewed the sports.
These began with a contest of fighting rams. The animals were placed some fifty yards apart. As soon as they saw each other, both showed extreme anger, uttering notes of defiance. Then they began to move towards each other, at first slowly, but increasing in speed until, when within a few yards of one another, each took a spring, meeting in mid air, forehead to forehead, with a crash that could be heard far away. Both fell back, and stood for a moment shaking their heads, as if half stupefied with the blow. Then they backed two steps, and hurled themselves at each other again. After this had been repeated once or twice, they locked forehead to forehead, and each strove to push the other back.
For some time the struggle continued on equal terms. Then the weaker began to give way, and was pushed back, step by step, until its strength failed altogether, and it was pushed over on to the ground, when the attendants at once interfered and separated them.
Some thirty pairs of rams fought, the affair being, to Dick, extremely monotonous. The natives, however, took great interest in the contests, wagering freely on the issues, shouting loudly to the combatants, and raising triumphant cries when one was adjudged victor.
Then elephants were brought in; but the struggle between these was even tamer than between the rams. They pushed each other with their foreheads until one gave way, when the other would follow it, beating it with its trunk, and occasionally shoving it.
When this sport was over, two parties of men entered the arena, amid a shout of satisfaction from the crowd. After prostrating themselves before Tippoo, they took up their ground facing each other. Each man had, on his right hand, four steel claws fixed to the knuckles. Approaching each other cautiously they threw, with their left hands, the garlands of flowers they wore round their necks, into the faces of their opponents, trying to take advantage of the moment to strike a blow, or to obtain a grip. Each blow laid open the flesh as by a tiger's claws. The great object was to gain a grip, no matter where, which would completely disable the opponent, and render him incapable of defending himself. When this was done, the combat between that pair came to an end.
After the ghetties, as these men were named, had retired, a buffalo was matched against a tiger. The latter was averse to the contest, but upon some firecrackers being thrown close behind him, he sprang at the buffalo, who had been watching him warily. As the tiger launched itself into the air, the buffalo lowered its head, received it on its sharp horns, and threw it a distance of ten yards away. No efforts could goad the wounded tiger to continue the fray, so it and the buffalo were taken out, and two others brought in.
The second tiger was a much more powerful beast than its predecessor, and was, indeed, larger than any of those in the cages of the Palace. It had been captured four days before, and was full of fight. It walked round the buffalo three or four times, and then, with the speed of lightning, sprang upon it, breaking its neck with a single blow from its powerful forepaw. Six buffaloes in succession were brought in, and were killed, one after the other, by the tiger.
Satisfied with what it had done, the tiger paid no attention to the seventh animal, but walked round and round the arena, looking for a means of escape. Then, drawing back, it made a short rush and sprang at the net, which was fourteen feet high. Strong as were the poles that supported the net, it nearly gave way under the impact. The tiger hung, ten feet above the ground, until some of the guards outside ran up, discharging their muskets into the air, when it recommenced its promenade round the foot of the net, roaring and snarling with anger.
As it neared the Palace, it stopped and uttered a roar of defiance at those at the windows. Then, apparently, something moving behind the lattice work caught its eye. It moved towards it, crouching, and then, with a tremendous spring, launched itself against it.
The balcony was ten feet from the ground, but the tiger's spring took it clear of this. The woodwork gave way like paper, and the tiger burst through. A shout of dismay arose from the multitude, but high above this sounded the screams of the women.
"Quick, Surajah!" Dick cried, and, drawing his keen dagger, he cut through the network and dashed through, followed by his companion. "Stand here," he cried, as they arrived below the balcony. "Steady! Put your hands against the wall."
Then he sprang on to Surajah's back, and thence to his shoulder. Drawing his pistols, he put one between his teeth, grasping the other in his right hand.
"Steady, Surajah," he said. "I am going to stand on your head."
He stepped on to his companion's turban, put his left arm on the balcony, and raised himself by it, until his arms were above its level. The tiger was standing with its paw upon a prostrate figure, growling savagely, but evidently confused and somewhat dismayed at the piercing screams from the women, most of whom had thrown themselves down on the cushions of the divan.
Dick stretched his right hand forward, took a steady aim, and fired. A sharp snarl showed that the shot had taken effect. He dropped the pistol, snatched the other from his mouth, waited for a moment until he could make out the tiger, fired again, and at once dropped to the ground, just as a great body flashed from the window above him.
He and Surajah had both had their matchlocks slung over their shoulders, and before the tiger could recover from its spring, they levelled and fired. The tiger rolled over, but regained its feet and made towards them. One of the bullets had, however, struck it on the shoulder and disabled the leg. Its movements were therefore comparatively slow, and they had time to leap aside. Surajah discharged his pistol into its ear, while Dick brought down his keen sword, with all his strength, upon its neck; and the tiger rolled over, dead.
A mighty shout rose from the crowd.
"We had better be off," Dick said, "or we shall have all sorts of questions to answer."
They slipped through the hole in the net again, but were so surrounded by people, cheering and applauding them, that they could not extricate themselves; and a minute later some soldiers ran up, pushed through the crowd to them, and surrounded them.
"The sultan requires your presence," they said; and as resistance was out of the question, Dick and Surajah at once accompanied them to the entrance of the Palace.
They were led through several large halls, until they entered the room where Tippoo was standing. He had just left the women's apartment, where he had hurried to ascertain what damage had been done by the tiger. Dick and his companion salaamed to the ground, in accordance with the custom of the country.
"You are brave fellows," the sultan said graciously, "and all the braver that you risked death, not only from the tiger, but for daring to look upon my women, unveiled."
"I saw nothing, your Highness," Dick said humbly, "save the tiger. That he was standing over a fallen figure I noticed. As soon as my eye fell on him I fired at once, and the second time as soon as the smoke cleared so that I could catch a glimpse of him."
"I pardon you that," Tippoo said; "and in faith you have rendered me good service, for had it not been for your interference, he might have worked havoc in my harem, and that before a single one of my officers or men had recovered his senses;" and he looked angrily round at the officers standing near him.
"How comes it that you were so quick in thought and execution?" he asked Surajah, as the elder of the two.
"My brother and myself have done much hunting among the hills, your Highness, and have learned that, in fighting a tiger, one needs to be quick as well as fearless."
"Whence come you?" Tippoo asked. "By your tongue, you are strangers."
Surajah gave the account that they had agreed upon, as to their birthplace, but he was quick-witted enough to see that it would not be safe to say they were in the service of the Rajah of Bhor, as inquiries might be made; and he therefore said: "We came hither to take service either with your Royal Highness, or with one of your rajahs, but have as yet found no opportunity of doing so."
"It is well," Tippoo said. "Henceforth you are officers in my service. Apartments shall be assigned to you, in the Palace.
"Here is the first token of my satisfaction;" and he took out a heavy purse from his girdle, and handed it to Surajah. "You are free to go now. I will, later on, consider what duties shall be assigned to you. When you return, report yourselves to Fazli Ali, my chamberlain;" and he indicated a white-bearded official, among the group standing beside him.
Salaaming deeply again, they left the apartments. Not a word was spoken, until they were outside the precincts of the Palace.
"This makes a sudden change in our plans," Dick said. "Whether for better or worse, I cannot say yet."
"I was right in not saying we were in the service of the Rajah of Bhor, was I not? I thought that Tippoo would offer to take us into his service, and he might have caused a letter to be sent to the Rajah, saying that he had done so."
"Yes, you were quite right, Surajah. I had thought of that myself, and was on thorns when you were telling your story, and felt not a little relieved when you changed the tale. I think that it has turned out for the best. As officers of the Palace, we may be able to obtain some information as to what Christian captives there are, and the prisons where they are confined."
"Still more," Surajah said; "when we get to be known as being his officers, we might present ourselves boldly at any of the hill fortresses, as sent there with some orders."
"You are right," Dick said. "I had not thought of that. Indeed, we might even produce orders to inspect the prisoners, in order to render an account to Tippoo of their state and fitness for service; and might even show an order for my father to be handed over to us, if we should find him. This is splendid, and I am sure I cannot be too grateful to that tiger, for popping into the harem. He has done more for us, in a few minutes, than we could have achieved in a year.
"Well, Surajah, if my father is alive, I think now that we have every chance of rescuing him."
As they walked through the streets, many of those who had been present at the sports recognised them as the heroes in the stirring episode there, and, judging they would gain a high place in Tippoo's favour, came up to them and congratulated them on their bravery, and made offers of service. They replied civilly to all who accosted them, but were glad when they turned off to the quiet quarter where Pertaub lived. The Hindoo was surprised, indeed, when they told him what had happened, and that they were already officers in the Palace, and might consider themselves as standing high in Tippoo's favour.
"It is wonderful," he said, when they brought their story to a conclusion. "Surely Providence must have favoured your pious object. Such good fortune would never have occurred to you, had it not been that it was destined you should find your father still alive. But if good fortune befalls you, it is because you deserve it. That you should face a great tiger without hesitation, and slay him, shows how firm your courage is; and the quickness was still more to be admired. No doubt there are many others there who, to gain the favour of the sultan, would have risked their lives; but you alone of them were quick enough to carry it out."
"We were nearest to the spot, Pertaub. Had we been among the crowd farther back, we could have done nothing."
"Let praise be given where it is due," Surajah said. "I had nothing to do with the affair. I saw the tiger bound through the window, and heard screams, and stood frozen with horror. I did not even see my lord cut through the net. I knew nothing, until he seized me by the arm and pulled me after him; and it was not until he sprang upon my back, and then upon my shoulders, that I knew what he was going to do. I simply aided in despatching the tiger when he sprang, wounded, down into the courtyard."
"And yet you are a hunter and a soldier," Pertaub said. "This is how it is that the English have become lords of so wide a territory. They are quick. While we hesitate, and spend great time in making up our minds to do anything, they decide and act in a moment. They are always ready, we are always slow. They see the point where a blow has to be struck, they make straight to it and strike.
"The English sahib is very young, and yet to him comes, in a moment, what is the best thing to be done. He does not stop to think of the danger. While all others stand in consternation, he acts, and slays the tiger before one of them has so much as moved from his place.
"But indeed, as you say Tippoo himself told you, your danger was not only from the tiger. The tyrant must, indeed, have been alarmed for the safety of his harem, when he forgave you what, in the eyes of a Mohammedan, is the greatest offence you can commit.
"This will, of course, change all of your plans."
"For the present, at any rate. It may be that, later on, we shall still find occasion for our disguises, as possibly we may fall into disfavour, and have to assume them to make our escape. We may, as Tippoo's officers, manage to obtain entrance into one or two of the hill fortresses, but unless absolutely sent by him, that is the utmost we could hope for; for were we missing, messengers would be sent all over the country to order our arrest, and in that case we should have to take to some disguise.
"The first thing, now, is to procure our dresses. How much is there in that purse, Surajah? It seems pretty heavy."
Surajah poured the gold out on the table.
"There are fifty tomauns. That will be more than enough to clothe you handsomely," the Hindoo said.
"Much more than enough, I should think, Pertaub."
"Tippoo likes those round him to be well dressed. It is not only a proof of his generosity, but he likes to make a brave show on great occasions, and nothing pleases him more than to be told that neither the Nizam, nor any other Indian prince, can surpass him in the magnificence of his Court. Therefore, the better dressed you are, the more he will be satisfied, for it will seem to him that you appreciate the honour of being officers of the Palace, and that you have laid out his present to the best advantage, and have not a mind to hoard any of it.
"I will take the matter in hand for you. You will need two suits; one for Court ceremonies, and the other for ordinary wear in the Palace."
"I shall be very much obliged to you, Pertaub, for indeed I have no idea what ought to be got. Had we better present ourselves at the Palace this evening, or tomorrow morning?"
"This evening, certainly. Did he take it into his head to inquire whether you were in the Palace, and found that you were not, it might alter his humour towards you altogether. He is changeable in his moods. The favourite of one day may be in disgrace, and ordered to execution, the next. You will soon feel that it is as if you were in a real tiger's den, and that the animal may at any moment spring upon you.
"Take with you the clothes you now wear, and those in which you came, so that at any moment, if you see a storm gathering, you can slip on a disguise, and leave the Palace unobserved. In that case hasten here, and you can then dress yourselves as merchants."
"The worst of it is, Pertaub, that our faces will soon become known to so many in the Palace that they would be recognised, whatever our dress."
"A little paint, and some false hair, and a somewhat darker stain to your skin, would alter you so that those who know you best would pass you without suspicion. I trust that no such misfortune will befall, but I will keep everything in readiness to effect a transformation, should it be required.
"Now I will go out at once, to get the clothes."
In two hours he returned, followed by a boy carrying the goods he had purchased; and in a few minutes, Dick and his companion were arrayed in Court dresses. The turbans were pure white, and the tunic was of dark, rich stuff, thickly woven with gold thread. A short cloak or mantle, secured at the neck by a gold chain, three or four inches in length, hung from the back; but could, if necessary, be drawn round the shoulders. A baldric, embroidered with gold, crossed the chest, and from this hung a sword with an ivory handle.
The waist sash was of blue and gold in Dick's case, purple and gold in that of Surajah. Silver-mounted pistols and daggers were stuck into the sashes. The dresses were precisely alike, except that they differed in colour. The trousers were white.
Surajah was greatly delighted with his dress. Dick laughed.
"Of course, it comes naturally to you," he said, "but I feel as if I were dressed up for a masquerade."
The other suits were similar in style, but the tunics were of richly-figured damask, instead of cloth of gold.
Half an hour later they started for the Palace, a coolie carrying a box containing their second suits, and the simple dresses they had worn on their arrival. Dick could not help smiling, at the manner in which the people in the streets obsequiously made way for them.
"I shall be very glad," he said, as they traversed the space that divided the town from the fort, "when we have got over the next day or two, and have settled down a bit. It all seems so uncertain, and I have not the most remote idea of what our duties are likely to be. Hitherto, we have always had some definite plan of action, and had only ourselves to depend upon. Now, everything seems doubtful and uncertain. However, I suppose we shall soon settle down; and we have the satisfaction of knowing that, if things do not turn out well, we can go off to our good friend Pertaub, and get out of the place altogether."
On arriving at the Palace, they inquired for the chamberlain.
"He is expecting you, my lord," one of the attendants said, coming forward. "I will lead you first to the room that is prepared for you, and then take you to Fazli Ali."
The room was a commodious one, and the richness of the covering of the divan, and the handsome rugs spread on the floor, were satisfactory signs that the chamberlain considered them prime favourites of the sultan. Having seen the box placed in a corner, and paid the coolie, they followed the attendant along some spacious corridors and passages, until they entered a room where Fazli Ali was seated on a divan. The attendant let the curtains that covered the door drop behind them, as they entered.
They salaamed to the chamberlain, who looked at them approvingly, and motioned to them to take their seats on the divan beside him.
"I see," he said kindly, "that you possess good judgment, as well as courage and quickness. The former qualities have won you a place here, but judgment will be needed to keep it. You have laid out your money well, as the sultan loves to see all in the Palace well attired; and quiet also, and discreet in behaviour."
"Can you give us any idea what our duties will be?" Surajah asked, as Dick had requested him always to be the spokesman, if possible.
The chamberlain shook his head.
"That will be for the sultan himself to decide. For a time, probably, you will have little to do but to attend at the hours when he gives public audiences. You will, doubtless, occasionally carry his orders to officers in command of troops, at distant places, and will form part of his retinue when he goes beyond the Palace. When he sees that you are worthy of his favour, prompt in carrying out his orders, and in all respects trustworthy, he will in time assign special duties to you; but this will depend upon yourselves.
"As one who admires the courage and promptness that you showed today, and who wishes you well, I would warn you that it is best, when the sultan has had matters to trouble him, and may blame somewhat unjustly, not to seek to excuse yourselves. It is bad to thwart him, when he is roused. You can rely upon me to stand your friend and, when the storm has blown over, to represent the matter to him in a favourable light. The sultan desires to be just, and in his calm moments assuredly is so; but when there is a cloud before his eyes, there is no saying upon whom his displeasure may fall.
"At present, however, there is little chance of your falling into disgrace, for he is greatly impressed with the service you have rendered him, and especially by the promptness with which you carried it out. After you had gone he spoke very strongly about it, and said that he would he were possessed of a hundred officers, capable of such a deed. He would, in that case, have little fear of any of the foes of his kingdom.
"It is fortunate that you came here this afternoon. It is well-nigh certain that he will ask for you presently, and though he could hardly blame you, had you required until tomorrow to complete your preparations, your promptitude will gratify him; and he will, I am sure, be still more pleased at seeing that you have so well laid out his gift. He gave you no orders on the subject, and had you appeared in the dresses you wore this morning, he would, doubtless, have instructed me to provide you with more suitable attire. The fact that you have so laid out the money will show that you have an understanding of the honour of being appointed to the Palace, and a proper sense of fitness. The sultan himself dresses plainly and, save for a priceless gem in his turban, and another in his sword hilt, there is nothing in his attire to lead a stranger to guess at his rank. But while he does this himself, he expects that all others in the Palace should do justice to his generosity.
"And now, you had best return to your room, and remain there until sent for. If he does not think of it himself, I shall, if opportunity occurs, inform him that you have already arrived."
They had some difficulty in finding their way back to their room, and had, indeed, to ask directions of attendants they met before they discovered it. A native was squatting at the door. He rose and salaamed deeply, as they came up.
"Your slave is appointed to be your attendant, my lords," he said. "Your servant's name is Ibrahim."
"Good," Surajah said, as he passed him and entered the room. "Now, Ibrahim, tell us about the ways of the Palace, for of these we are altogether ignorant. In the first place, about food. Do we provide ourselves, or how is it?"
"All in the Palace are fed from the sultan's kitchen. At each meal, every officer has so many dishes, according to his rank. These vary from three to twelve. In the early morning, I shall bring you bread and fruit and sherbet; at ten o'clock is the first meal; and at seven there is supper. At one o'clock the kitchens are open, and I can fetch you a dish of pillau, kabobs, a chicken, or any other refreshment that you may desire. At present, I have no orders as to how many dishes your Excellencies will receive, at the two meals."
"We shall not be particular about that," Surajah said. "It is evident we shall fare well, at any rate."
"I am told to inform you, my lords, that the sultan has ordered two horses to be placed at your service. A ghorrawalla has been appointed to take charge of them. His name is Serfojee. If you ask for him at the stable, you will be directed to him, and he will show you the horses.
"In an hour supper will be served, but this evening I shall only be able to bring you three dishes each. Such is always the rule, until the sultan's pleasure has been declared."
Ibrahim then proceeded to light two lamps, hanging from the ceiling, for it was now getting dusk; and then, finding that his masters had no further need of his services, he retired.
"So far, so good, Surajah. We are certainly in clover, as far as comfort is concerned, and the only drawback to the situation is Tippoo's uncertain temper. However, we must try our best to satisfy him. We have every reason to stand well with him, and if he sees that we are really anxious to please him, we ought to be able to avoid falling into disgrace, even when he is in his worst moods."
Their attendant presently brought up the six portions of food, and they enjoyed their meal heartily. Each had an ample portion of a pillau of rice and chicken, a plate of stew, which Dick thought was composed of game of some kind, and a confection in which honey was the predominating flavour. With this they drank water, deliciously cooled by being hung up in porous jars.
Surajah ate his food with the dexterity of long habit, but Dick had not yet learned to make his bread fulfil the functions of spoon and fork, for at his uncle's table European methods of eating were adopted.
Half an hour after they had finished, an officer presented himself at the door, and said that he was ordered to conduct them to the sultan. Tippoo had supped in the harem, and was now seated on a divan, in a room of no great size, but richly hung with heavy silken curtains, and carpeted with the richest rugs. Two or three of his chief officers were seated beside him. Seven or eight others were standing on either side of the room. A heavy glass chandelier, of European manufacture, hung from the richly carved ceiling, and the fifty candles in it lighted up the room.
The chamberlain met them at the door, and advanced with them towards Tippoo.
"Great Sultan," he said, "these are the young men whom it has pleased your Highness to appoint officers in the Palace."
The two lads salaamed until their turbans touched the ground.
"Truly they are comely youths," Tippoo said, "and one would scarcely deem them capable of performing such a feat as that they accomplished this morning.
"Well, my slayers of tigers, you have found everything fitly provided?"
"Far more so than our deeds merit, your Highness," Surajah replied. "We have found everything that heart could desire, and only hope for an opportunity to show ourselves worthy of your favours."
"You have done that beforehand," Tippoo said graciously, "and I am glad to see, by your attire, that you are conscious that, as my officers, it is fitting you should make a worthy appearance. It shows that you have been well brought up, and are not ignorant of what is right and proper.
"At present, you will receive orders from Fazli Ali, and will act as assistant chamberlains, until I decide in what way your services can be made most useful.
"Now, follow me. There are others who wish to see you."
Rising, Tippoo led the way through a door with double hangings, into a room considerably larger than that which they had just left. The chandeliers, at the end of the room where they stood, were all lighted, while the other end was in comparative darkness.
Leaving them standing alone, Tippoo walked towards the other end, and clapped his hands. Immediately, a number of closely veiled figures entered, completely filling the end of the room.
"These are the young men," Tippoo said to them. "It is the one on the right to whom it is chiefly due that the tiger did not commit havoc among you. It was he who climbed up the balcony, and fired twice at the beast. You owe your lives to him and his companion, for among all my officers and guards there was not one who was quick-witted enough to move as much as a finger."
There was a faint murmur of surprise, among the veiled figures, at the youth of their preserver.
"Hold your heads fully up," Tippoo went on, for Dick and his companion, after making a deep salaam, had stood with bent heads and with eyes fixed upon the ground.
Then two of the attendants, girls of thirteen or fourteen years old, came forward from behind the others, each bearing a casket.
"These are presented to you, with my permission, by the ladies whose lives you saved," Tippoo said; "and should you at any time have a favour to ask, or even should you fall under my displeasure, you can rely upon their good offices in your behalf."
There was another low murmur from the other end of the hall. Then Tippoo clapped his hands, and the women moved out, as noiselessly as they had entered.
"You can retire now," Tippoo said, as he moved towards the door into the other room. "Be faithful, be discreet, and your fortune is assured."
He pointed to another door, and then rejoined his councillors.
Dick and his companion stood in an attitude of deep respect, until the hanging had fallen behind the sultan, and then went out by the door he had pointed to, and made their way back to their own room.
"Truly, Surajah, fortune is favouring us mightily. This morning, we walked the streets in fear of being questioned and arrested. This evening we are officers of the Palace, favoured by Tippoo, and under the protection of the harem.
"I wonder what the ladies have given us."
They opened the caskets, which were of considerable size. As they examined the contents, exclamations of surprise broke from them. Each contained some thirty or forty little parcels, done up in paper; and on these being opened, they were found to contain trinkets and jewels of all kinds. Some were very costly and valuable. All were handsome.
It was evident that every one of the ladies who had been in the room, when the tiger burst in, had contributed a token of her gratitude. Many of the more valuable gems had been evidently taken from their settings, as if the donors did not care that jewels they had worn should be exposed to view. One parcel contained twenty superb pearls, another a magnificent diamond and ten rubies, and so on, down to the more humble gifts--although these were valuable--of those of lower rank.
Dick's presents were much more costly than those of his companion, and as soon as this was seen to be the case, Dick proposed that they should all be put together, and divided equally. This, however, Surajah would not hear of.
"The whole thing is due to you," he said. "It would never have occurred to me to interfere at all. I had no part in the matter, beyond aiding to kill a wounded tiger, and it was no more than I have done, many times, among our hills, and thought nothing of. These jewels are vastly more than I deserve, for my share in the affair. I do not know much about the value of gems, but they must be worth a large sum, and nothing will induce me to take any of those that you have so well earned."
"I wonder whether Tippoo knows what they have given us," Dick said, after in vain trying to alter his companion's decision.
"I don't suppose he troubled himself about it," Surajah replied. "No doubt he was asked for permission for each to make a present to us. The jewels in the harem must be of enormous value, as, for the last fifteen years, Tippoo has been gathering spoil from all southern India, having swept the land right up to the gates of Madras. They say that his treasures are fabulous, and no doubt the ladies of his harem have shared largely in the spoils. The question is, what had we best do with these caskets? We know that, in the course of our adventures, it may very well happen that we shall be closely searched, and it would never do to risk having such valuables found upon us."
"No; I should say that we had best bury them somewhere. Some of these merchants here may be honest enough for us to leave the jewels in their care, without anxiety; but as they themselves may, at any moment, be seized and compelled to give up their last penny, these things would be no safer with them than with us.
"As to Pertaub, I have absolute faith in him, but he himself is liable to be seized at any moment. However, I should say we had better consult him. If we were to bury them, say, under the floor of his house, we might leave them there for a time. If we saw any chance of this place being, someday, captured by our people, we could wait till then for their recovery. But the war may not be renewed for years. Possibly Pertaub may be able to arrange to send them down, only entrusting a portion at a time to a messenger, so that, if he got into trouble, we should only lose what he had upon him.
"We will put the caskets into our box, and lock it up for the present, and take them down to Pertaub tomorrow evening, after it gets dark. It will be as well to get them off our minds, as soon as possible, for although just at present we are in high favour, there is no saying how long it may last, or when it may be necessary for us to move."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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13
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: Officers Of The Palace.
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The next morning, just as they had finished their early breakfast, they were sent for by Fazli Ali.
"You had better accompany me on my rounds," he said. "I shall not commit any special duties to you, until I see whether the sultan intends that you shall remain with me, or whether, as is far more likely, he assigns other work to you. Were you placed in separate charges in the Palace, I should have to fill your places if you left. Therefore I propose that, at present, you shall assist me in general supervision.
"We will first go to the kitchens. These give me more trouble than any other part of my duties. In the first place, one has to see that the contractors do their work properly, that the number of carcases sent in is correct, the flesh of good quality, and that the list of game is correct. Then one has to check the amount of rice and other grain sent in from the storehouses, the issue of spices, and other articles of that kind. These matters do not require doing every day. The kitchen officers are responsible for them, but once or twice a week I take care to be present, to see that all is right. Then I ascertain that everything is in good and proper order in the kitchen, listen to complaints, and decide disputes.
"When we have done there, we will see that the requisitions from the harem are properly complied with, and that the sweetmeats, perfumes, silks, and muslins, as required, are furnished.
"The payment of salaries does not come into my department. That is one of the functions of the treasurer of the Palace, who also discharges all accounts, upon my signature that they are correct.
"Then I take a general tour of the Palace, to see that the attendants have done their duties, and that everything is clean and in order. As a rule, I have finished everything before the morning meal is served. The details of making up the accounts are, of course, done by clerks.
"After that, my duties depend entirely upon the sultan. If there is any state ceremonial in the Palace, I summon those whose duty it is to attend, and see that everything is properly arranged and in order. If not, I am generally at his Highness's disposal.
"Unless you receive any instructions from me, you will be free to occupy yourselves as you like. You will, of course, take part in all public ceremonials. You will be among the officers who accompany the sultan, when he goes out, and will be liable to be summoned to attend him at all times. Therefore, although free to go into the town, or ride beyond the island, it is well that you should never be long absent; and that, if you wish to be away for more than two hours at a time, you should first let me know, as I may be able to tell you if the sultan is likely to require you. He has fixed your pay at four hundred rupees a month."
Dick, as he accompanied the chamberlain on his tour through the Palace, was struck with the order and method that prevailed in every department, and the chamberlain told him that Tippoo, himself, inquired closely into details, and that, large as was the daily expenditure, no waste of any kind was allowed.
The splendour of some of the apartments was surprising, especially the throne room. The throne itself was of extraordinary magnificence. It was of gold, thickly inlaid with gems. On the apex stood a jewelled peacock, covered entirely with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, with pendants of pearls. In front of it stood a golden tiger's head, which served as a footstool. On either side were standards of purple silk, having a sun with gold rays in the centre. The spear heads were of gold, set with jewels.
When the work of inspection was finished, they went back to their room, where their attendant soon afterwards, with an air of great exultation, brought their meal, which consisted of nine dishes each, a proof of the high favour with which Tippoo regarded them. After this meal was eaten they went down to the stables, and were pleased, indeed, with the mounts provided for them. They were fine animals, with handsome saddles and trappings, and Dick and Surajah at once mounted, and rode through the town to the other extremity of the island. As they wore scarves that had been furnished them by Fazli Ali, showing that they were officers of the Palace, they were everywhere greeted with deep salaams.
"I hope," Dick said, as they returned from their ride, "that Tippoo will not be long before he finds us some other duties. There is nothing very interesting in counting carcases, or seeing rice measured."
"That is true enough," Surajah agreed. "But we must not be impatient. Fortune has befriended us marvellously, and I have great faith that it will continue to do so. We must be content to wait."
"Yes, I know that, Surajah, but I think it is all the more difficult to do so, because we have done so much in a short time. It seems as if one ought to go on at the same rate."
That evening they went down, as they had arranged, with ordinary wraps round their gay attire, to Pertaub's, taking with them the caskets of gems. The Hindoo received them warmly.
"I saw you ride through the streets this morning, although you did not notice me. Truly, you made a good appearance, and were well mounted. I have heard from one of our people, who is a servant in the Palace, that you stand in high favour."
"We have brought you down these two caskets of gems," Dick said. "They were given us by the ladies of the harem, and many of the stones, Surajah thinks, are very valuable. We don't know what to do with them, and wanted to know whether you could arrange to send them down to Tripataly for us."
"I would not undertake to do so, if they are valuable," Pertaub said. "The prospects of fresh troubles are stronger every day, and the roads are so closely watched, especially those through the passes, that it would be running a terrible risk to trust valuables to anyone."
"In that case, Pertaub, we thought you might bury them in the ground under your house. But first, look at some of the stones, and tell us what you think of them."
The Hindoo opened Surajah's casket, and undid many of the little parcels.
"Assuredly they are valuable," he said. "Some of them much more so than others; but if all are like these that I have opened, they must be worth at least fifty thousand rupees."
"Now look at this casket, Pertaub."
The Hindoo uttered an exclamation of surprise, as he opened some of the packets, and, taking out some of the larger gems, he examined them by the light of his lamp.
"I could not place a value on these," he said at last. "The ladies must, indeed, have felt that they owed their lives to you. The gems are a fortune. Doubtless they are the spoils of a score of districts, and Tippoo must have distributed them lavishly among his wives, or they could never have made such rich presents. I would bury them, Sahib, for surely they could not be entrusted even to the most faithful messengers, in times like these. But though, if you like, I will hide them here, I think it would be far safer for you to take them across the river, and bury them in a wood, marking well the trees, that you may know the place again; for although methinks Tippoo's agents believe that they have squeezed the last rupee from me, one can never tell--I might again be tortured, and none can say that they are brave enough to bear the agonies that Tippoo's executioners inflict.
"I will bury them for tonight; but I pray you give me notice the first time you cross the river. I will be at the other side of the ford, with the jewels hidden in a sack on an ass. This I will drive forward, when I see you crossing the ford. You will follow me, till I enter a wood. I will have the tools, and when you join me, you can go on a short distance and bury them. I do not wish to see where you hide them, but will move about, to make sure that none come near you when so engaged.
"You had best take out a few small stones, which you will find as good as money, and much more easily concealed, for in every town or large village you will find a jeweller, who will give you silver for them."
"I think that will be a very good plan, Pertaub, and will certainly carry it out."
A month passed, without any change in their work. They rode, with other officers, behind Tippoo's palanquin when he went out, which he did almost every day, to inspect the progress of the fortifications; and were among the brilliant circle behind his throne, when he gave orders.
By this time, they had come to know most of the other Court officials, and were able to inquire cautiously about the prisons. They could learn nothing, however, of any English prisoners in Seringapatam, save those they had seen in the hut in the fort.
Six weeks after their appointment as Palace officers, Dick and Surajah were sent for by Tippoo.
"I am about to employ you," the sultan said, when they appeared before him, "on a mission. You are strangers here, and are unconnected with any of my officers; and I can, therefore, place greater reliance on your reports, than upon those of men who have other interests than my own to serve. I desire you to go and inspect the hill forts, to see how the repairs of the fortifications injured by the English are progressing, and to make sure that the cannon are in good order, and the supply of ammunition plentiful. You have shown that you are quick sighted and sharp. Look round the defences, and if you see aught that can be done to strengthen them, confer with the governors, learn their opinions on the subject, and if they agree with you, they will be authorised to take men from the country round to strengthen the fortifications, and I will forward, at once, such guns and stores as may be required.
"After the inspection of each fort, you will despatch a mounted messenger to me with your report; and you will state which fort you will next visit, in order that I may despatch there any order that I may have to give you.
"Do your duty well, and I shall know how to reward you. In order that your authority may be increased, you are both named colonels in the army. Fazli will furnish you with a written copy of the orders I have given you, and with authority, under my seal, to enter and inspect all fortresses, and to consult with the governors as to everything considered, by them, as necessary for their better defence.
"The last time the English came, they captured Nundidroog, and other hill fortresses that we had regarded as impregnable, simply because the governors were overconfident, and the defences had been neglected. This must not occur again, and if there is failure in the defences, I shall hold you responsible. Therefore, take care that you do not neglect, not only to see that the repairs are being well carried out, but to recommend additions to the fortifications, wherever it seems to you that there is even a possibility of an enemy making his way up.
"You will take with you twenty troopers as an escort, but these are not to enter any of the fortresses with you, for treachery is always possible; and no one, save the garrisons, must be acquainted with the defences of the hill forts."
Surajah expressed his thanks to the sultan for entrusting them with the mission, and assured him that their inspection of the forts should be careful and complete, and that they would start in an hour's time.
When they reached their own room, Dick threw up his turban in delight.
"Was there ever such a stroke of good fortune?" he exclaimed. "The tiger business was as nothing to this. Tippoo has given us the mission, of all others, that will enable us to carry out our search. Our work is as good as done.
"That is to say," he added, more gravely, "we are at least pretty sure to find my father out, if he is alive. Besides, we may get information that will be of great use, if the war is renewed.
"Now we had better, in the first place, go and see Fazli and get our instructions. We will order our horses to be in readiness to start, as soon as we have had our meal--we may not get another chance of eating today.
"I should like to take Ibrahim with us. He is a capital servant, and a strong, active fellow. I believe he is fond of us, and we shall want someone who can cook for us, and buy things, and so on. I will speak to Fazli about it."
The chamberlain looked up, as they entered the room where he was engaged in dictating to a clerk.
"I congratulate you on your mission," he said. "It will involve a great deal of hard work, but as you have told me how you longed for some duty outside the Palace, you will not mind that. Tippoo consulted me before sending for you. I told him you were diligent in the service, and I felt sure you would do your best in the present matter; and that, as you were accustomed, in the pursuit of game, to ascend mountains and scale precipices, you were far more likely to find the weak spots in the forts than an old officer, who would be likely to take everything for granted.
"There is no doubt that many of the garrisons are very far from being efficient. They have been stationed in the forts for many years. Discipline, both among officers and men, is sure to have become lax, and there will be much that young men, going freshly into the matter, will see needs amendment. That the walls are often weak, and the cannon so old as to be almost useless, I am well aware; for sometimes newly-appointed governors have sent in strong protests, and urgent requests that they might be furnished with new cannon, and that walls and defences might be renewed. But what with the wars, the removal of the capital, and the building and fortification of this place, these matters have been neglected; and it is only now that the sultan sees the necessity of putting the fortifications of all these places in good repair.
"I have had the papers prepared and signed. Your escort has been ordered. Is there anything else you can think of?"
"We should like to take our Palace attendant with us," Surajah said. "He is a good man and, starting so suddenly, we should have a difficulty in hiring servants we could rely on."
"I have thought of that," the chamberlain replied, "and have ordered a horse to be got in readiness for him, together with a spare animal to carry food and necessaries for your journey. You will need them on your marches, and may even be glad of them in some of the smaller forts, where the fare will be very rough."
When they returned to their room, they found Ibrahim awaiting them. He was evidently delighted at the prospect of accompanying them.
"My lords," he said, "I have the pack horse saddled in the stable, with two great sacks and ropes. Is it your pleasure that I should go down, at once, to the market and buy flour and rice, spices, and other things necessary?"
"Certainly, Ibrahim. But it will not be necessary to buy much meat. It will not keep, and we ought always to be able to buy a sheep or a fowl from villagers. Get some thick, wadded sleeping rugs, some cooking pots, and whatever you think is necessary. Do not waste any time, for we shall start immediately after our meal."
As soon as the man had left, Dick said to Surajah: "I will hurry down to the town and see Pertaub. You had best remain here, in case Tippoo should send for us to give us final instructions. You can say, should he ask, that I have gone down to the town to get a supply of powder and ball for our pistols, writing materials, and other things that we may require; which will be true enough. It is most lucky that we buried our jewels in the forest, ten days ago, for we should not have had time to do it, now."
Dick returned in time for the meal, which was brought up by another servant.
"Pertaub was delighted to hear of our good fortune," he said, on his return. "He will keep our disguises by him, and if we have occasion for them, will either bring them himself with the merchandise, or will send them by a trusty messenger, to any place we may mention, directly he hears from us. I do not think there is any chance of our wanting them, but it is as well to prepare for any contingency that may occur."
Half an hour later they started, at the head of an escort of twenty troopers; Ibrahim riding in the rear, leading the pack horse, which carried a change of clothes, and thick cloths to keep out the night dews, as well as the stock of provisions. Ibrahim had also purchased two very large, dark blankets, that could be used for a temporary shelter. Surajah now felt quite at home, for he was engaged in the same sort of duty he performed at Tripataly; and more than one pair of dark eyes glanced admiringly at the two young officers, as they rode down to the ford.
They had been furnished, by Fazli, with a list of the forts they were to visit, and the order in which they were to take them; the first on the list being Savandroog, fifty miles northeast of the city. After a ride of twenty miles, they halted at a village. To the surprise of the troopers, Surajah gave orders that nothing was to be taken by force, as he was prepared to pay for all provisions required.
As soon as the villagers understood this, ample supplies were brought in. Rice, grain, and fowls were purchased for the soldiers, and forage for the horses, and after seeing that all were well provided for, the two officers went to a room that had been placed at their service, in the principal house in the village.
Ibrahim justified his assertion that he was a good cook, by turning out an excellent curry. By the time they had finished this it was getting dark, and after again visiting the troopers, and seeing that their own horses were fed and well groomed, they retired to bed.
An early start was made, and at ten o'clock they approached Savandroog. It was one of the most formidable of the hill forts of Mysore, and stood upon the summit of an enormous mass of granite, covering a base of eight miles in circuit, and rising in ragged precipices to the height of 2,500 feet. The summit of the rock was divided by a deep chasm into two peaks, each of which was crowned with strong works, and capable of separate defence. The lower part of the hill was, wherever ascent seemed possible, protected by walls, one behind the other. The natives had regarded the fort as absolutely impregnable, until it was stormed by the troops under Lord Cornwallis.
Dick looked with intense interest at the great rock, with its numerous fortifications. The damages committed by the British guns could not be seen at this distance, and it seemed to him well-nigh impossible that the place could have been captured. They rode on, until they neared an entrance in the wall that encircled the fort, at the side at which, alone, access was considered possible.
They were challenged as they approached. Ordering the troopers to remain behind, Dick and Surajah rode forward.
"We are the bearers," Surajah cried out, as they reined in their horses within twenty yards of the gate, "of an order from the sultan for our admittance, and of a letter to Mirzah Mohammed Bukshy, the governor."
"I will send up word to him," an officer on the wall replied. "I can admit no one, until I have received his orders to do so."
"How long will it be before we receive an answer?"
"An hour and a half, at the earliest. I regret that your Excellencies will be inconvenienced, but my orders are absolute."
"I do not blame you," Surajah replied. "It is necessary that you should always be vigilant;" and they retired under the shade of a tree, a hundred and fifty yards from the gate.
Ibrahim spread out the rugs, and then proceeded to light the fire, and to prepare a pillau of rice and fowl, while Dick and his companion regarded the rock with fixed attention, and conversed together as to the possibility of ascending at any of the points so steep as to be left undefended by walls. They concluded, at last, that it would be next to impossible to climb the rock anywhere on the side that faced them, save by scaling several walls.
They had just finished their luncheon when the gate opened, and an officer and four soldiers issued out. They at once rose, and went to meet them.
"I have the governor's order to admit you, on the production of the sultan's pass."
Surajah produced the document. The officer at once recognised the seal, and carried it to his forehead, salaaming deeply.
"Your troopers can enter at the gate, but cannot proceed farther than the second wall."
"Can we ride up, or must we walk?" Dick asked.
"You can ride," he replied. "The road is steep, but nowhere so steep that horses cannot mount it."
After the party had entered the gate, it was at once closed and bolted. The troopers dismounted, and were led to a small barrack; while Surajah and Dick, accompanied by the officer, and four soldiers on foot, rode on.
The road was a better one than Dick had expected. It was just wide enough for a cart to proceed up it, and was cut out of the solid rock. It turned and zigzagged continually, and at each angle was a small fort, whose guns swept the approach. They passed under a score of gateways, each defended by guns; and after upwards of an hour's climbing, at a quick pace, they approached one of the forts on its summit. The governor met them at the gate.
"You will pardon my not descending to meet you below," he said, "but I am not so young as I used to be, and the journey up and down fatigues me much."
Dick and Surajah dismounted, and the former presented the two documents. The governor, after reading the pass, bowed, and led the way into the interior of the fort; and they were soon seated on a divan in his quarters, when he read the circular letter.
"I am glad indeed," he said, when he had finished, "that the sultan is pleased to take into consideration the many demands I have made for cannon and ammunition. A large number of the pieces are past service, and they would be as dangerous to those who fired them as to those at whom they were aimed; while I have scarcely powder enough to furnish three rounds for each. As to the defences, I have done my best to strengthen them. Idleness is bad for all men, most of all for soldiers, and I have kept them well employed at repairing the effects of the English fire. Still, there is much to do yet before they are finished, and there are points where fortifications might be added with advantage. These I will gladly point out to you. They have been beyond our means here, for, as you will perceive, it will need blasting in many places to scarp the rock, and to render inaccessible several points at which active men can now climb up. For this work, powder is required. And I would submit that, for such hard work, it will be needful to supply extra rations to the troops, for the present scale scarcely suffices to keep the men efficient, especially as most of them have their wives and families dependent on them."
"I have no doubt that the sultan will accede to any reasonable requests, your Excellency. He is anxious that the walls of the forts should be placed in the best possible condition for defence. No one doubts that we shall, ere long, be again at war with England, and although the sultan relies much upon large reinforcements that have been promised by France, with whom he has entered into an alliance, they have not yet arrived, and he may have to bear the brunt of the attack of the English by himself."
"I have heard of this," the governor said, "and regret that we shall again have the Feringhees upon us. As for the Mahrattis or the Nizam, I heed them not--they are dust, whom the sultan could sweep from his path; but these English are terrible soldiers. I have fought against them under Hyder, and in the last war they again showed their valour; and the strangest thing is that they make the natives under them fight as bravely as they do themselves.
"As to forts, nothing is safe from them. Were all the troops of the Nizam and the Mahrattis combined to besiege us, I should feel perfectly safe; while were there but five hundred Englishmen, I should tremble for the safety of the fortress. You have come up the hill, and have seen for yourselves how strong it is; and yet they took the place without the loss of a single man. I was not here, for I was in command of Kistnagherry at that time, and succeeded in holding it against their assaults. When the war was over, and Kistnagherry was ceded to them, I was appointed to this fortress, which seems to me to be even stronger than that was.
"The commander was a brave man, the garrison was strong, there was no suspicion of treachery; and though, at last, the troops were seized with a panic, as they might well be when they saw that they were unable to arrest the advance of the enemy, the defence up to that time had been stout. The English brought up guns, where it was thought no guns could be taken. They knocked the defences to pieces; and, after winning their way to the top, in one day captured this fort, and that on the hill yonder. It seems miraculous."
Coffee was brought in, and pipes, for although Tippoo was violently opposed to smoking, and no one would venture upon the use of tobacco in the Palace or fort, old officers like the governor, in distant commands, did not relinquish tobacco.
"It is necessary here," the governor said, as he filled his pipe. "The country round is terribly unhealthy, and the air is full of fever. I do not discourage its use among the men, for they would die off like flies, did they not smoke to keep out the bad air. The climate is, indeed, the best protection to the fort, for an army that sat down for any length of time before it, would speedily melt away."
He opened a box that stood on the divan beside him.
"I have copies here," he said, taking some papers out, "of the memorials that I have sent in to the sultan, as to the guns. This is the last. It was sent in two months ago. You see I asked for forty-nine heavy pieces. Of these, thirty are to replace guns that are honeycombed, or split. The other eleven are for new works. I asked for thirty-two lighter ones, or howitzers, and a hundred wall guns. Of course I could do with less; but to place the fort in a perfect state of defence, that is the number that I and my artillery officer think are requisite.
"Of powder, we have not more than a ton and a half, and if the siege were to be a long one we might require ten times as much. We have not more than eight rounds of shot for each gun, and we ought to have at least fifty for the heavy pieces, and twenty for those defending the path up the hill."
Dick made a note of the figures, in a pocket book he had bought for the purpose.
"As for provisions," the governor went on, "we ought to have large stores of rice and grain. The magazines are nearly empty, and as we have eight hundred men in garrison, and perhaps twice as many women and children, we should require a large store were we blockaded for any time."
"Are the troops in good condition?" Surajah asked.
The governor shook his head.
"Many of them are past the term of service; but until I get reinforcements to supply their places, I shall not venture to discharge them. Many others are wasted by fever, and, I must say, from insufficient rations, which not only weakens their bodies, but lowers their spirits. As long as there was no fear of attack, this mattered little; but if the English are coming again, we shall want well-fed and contented men to oppose them.
"I see, by the stars on your turbans, that you are both colonels as well as officers of the Palace. You are fortunate in obtaining that rank so young."
"It was due to the sultan's favour," Surajah said. "The other day, at the sports, a tiger burst into the sultan's zenana, and we were lucky enough to kill it--that is, my friend did most of the killing. I only gave the brute the final coup."
"Ah, it was you who performed that deed!" the governor said, warmly. "I heard the news, from one of my officers who was on leave, and returned yesterday. Truly it was a gallant action, and one quickly done. No wonder that you obtained the sultan's favour, and your rank as colonel.
"I was a sportsman, in my young days. But I think I should have been more frightened at the thought of taking a peep into the sultan's zenana, than I should have been of fighting the tiger."
"I did not think anything about it," Dick said, "until it was all over. I heard some women scream, and, being quite close, went to their assistance, without a thought whether they might be the ladies of the zenana, or servants of the Palace. But indeed, I saw nothing save the tiger, and only vaguely observed that there were women there at all."
"It was well that the sultan took the view he did of the matter," the governor said. "I have known men put to death, for deeds that were but trifles in comparison to looking into the zenana.
"Now, Colonel, I will send for my artillery officer and the horses, and we will ride round the fortifications on the brow of the hill, inspect the two forts closely, and will point out to you the spots where it appears to us the defences ought to be strengthened."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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14
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: A Surprise.
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Dick was much pleased with the governor. He was evidently an outspoken old soldier and, though rough, his bearded face had an honest and kindly expression, and he thought to himself, "If my father fell into his hands, I don't think he would be treated with any unnecessary hardship, though no doubt the sultan's orders would be obeyed."
When a soldier came in, to say that the horses were at the door, they went out. An officer was standing beside them, and the governor presented him as his chief artillery officer.
"You have not brought your horse," he said.
"No, your Excellency. The distance is not great, and we should need to dismount so many times, to get a view from the walls, that it would not be worthwhile to ride."
"In that case, we may as well walk, also," Dick said.
"I would rather do so, too," the governor said. "I proposed riding, because I thought you might be tired. As Bakir Meeram says, the distance is not great. The walls themselves, with the exception of those of the two forts, are not more than half a mile in extent; for in most places the rocks go sheer down, and there defences are, of course, unnecessary. We will inspect this fort, first."
They went the round of the walls, Dick and his companion listening to the suggestions of the two officers. The principal one was that a wall should be raised, inside the gate.
"The English, last time, got in here by rushing in at the tail of the fugitives from below. They were in before the gates could be closed, and took our men so completely by surprise that they were seized with a panic. Were we to raise a semicircular wall behind the gateway, such a thing could not occur again," the governor said. "Of course, there would be a gate in the inner wall, but not immediately behind the outer gateway as, if so placed, it might be destroyed by the cannon shots that battered the outer gate in. I should, therefore, put it at one end of the inner wall. This gate would be generally open, but in case of a siege I should have it blocked up with stones piled behind it, placing a number of ladders by which men, running in, could get on to the walls, and, however closely they were pursued, could make a stand there until the ladders were pulled up."
"That would be an excellent idea," Surajah said gravely, "and I will certainly lay it before the sultan. I suppose you would propose the same for the other fort?"
"Just the same."
"The only thing that I would observe," Dick said, "is that, if an enemy once got a footing on the top here, you could not hope to make a long defence of these forts."
"That is so," the governor agreed. "The strength of the defence is not here, but on the upward road, and if the English once gained the top the forts must fall; but at least it shall not be said, as long as I am governor, that Savandroog fell almost bloodlessly. In these forts we can at least die bravely, and sell our lives to the last. It is for that reason I desire that they shall be so defended that they cannot be carried, as they were before, by a sudden rush."
The other fort was then visited, and a tour made round the walls. The suggestions offered by the governor and the officers were all noted down and approved.
Then they made what was, to Dick, the most important part of the inspection; namely, an examination of the undefended portion of the rock. The result showed him that the builders of the defences had not acted unwisely in trusting solely to nature. At many points the rock fell away in precipices, hundreds of feet deep. At other points, although the descent was less steep, it was, as far as he could see from above, altogether unclimbable; but this he thought he would be able to judge better, from below.
"Do you have sentries round here at night?" he asked the governor.
"No. It would not be necessary, even if an enemy were encamped below. If you will ride round the foot of the hill when you leave, you will see for yourself that, save from the side you came up, the place is absolutely inaccessible."
The view from the top of the hill was superb. Away to the northeast, the governor pointed out the pagodas of Bangalore, twenty-two miles away; the distance, in the clear air, seeming comparatively trifling.
"Are there many troops there?" Dick asked.
"There are about five battalions of the regular troops, and three Chelah battalions. These can hardly be counted as troops. They have never been of the slightest use. In the last war they ran like sheep. It is a fancy of the sultan's. But, indeed, he can hardly expect men to fight who have been forced into the ranks, and made to accept Mohammedanism against their will. Naturally they regard an invader, not as an enemy, but as a deliverer.
"Of course the sultan's idea was, that since the native troops, drilled and led by Englishmen, fought so well; the Chelahs, who were also drilled and led by Englishmen, would do the same. But the Company's troops are willing soldiers, and it is the English leading, more than the English drill, that makes them fight. If the Chelahs were divided among the hill fortresses they might do good service; and I could, as far as fighting goes, do with a battalion of them here; for, mixed up with my men, they would have to do their duty. But, of course, they will never be placed in the hill forts, for one would never be safe from treachery. Even if all the lower walls were in the hands of my own men, some of the Chelahs would be sure to manage to desert, and give information as to all the defences."
A considerable portion of the upper plateau of the rock was occupied by the huts of the troops, for the forts were much too small to contain them and their families. On their way back, they passed through these. Dick looked anxiously about for white faces, but could see none, nor any building that seemed to him likely to be used as a prison.
When they returned to the governor's quarters, they found that a room had been placed at their disposal, and they presently sat down to dinner with him.
"I suppose you have no English prisoners here?" Dick said carelessly, when the meal was over.
The governor paused a moment, before he replied.
"I don't want any of them here," he said shortly. "Batches are sent up, sometimes, from Bangalore; but it is only for execution. I am a loyal subject of the sultan, but I would that this work could be done elsewhere. Almost all the executions take place in the hill forts; in order, I suppose, that they may be done secretly. I obey orders, but I never see them carried out. I never even see the captives. They have done no harm, or, at most, one of their number has tried to escape, for which they are not to be blamed. I always have them shot, whether that is the mode of execution ordered or not. It is a soldier's death, and the one I should choose myself, and so that they are dead it can matter little to the sultan how they die. If they were all shot, as soon as they were taken, I should not think so much of it; but after being held captive for years, and compelled to work, it seems to me that their lives should be spared. As far as giving up my own life is concerned, I would willingly do it at the orders of the sultan, but these executions make me ill. I lose my appetite for weeks afterwards. Let us talk of something else."
And the governor puffed furiously away at the hookah he had just lighted. Then the conversation turned to the forts again.
"No, I do not find the life dull," he said, in answer to a remark of Dick's. "I did so at first, but one soon becomes accustomed to it. I have my wife and two daughters, and there are ten officers, so that I can have company when I choose. All the officers are married, and that gives society. Up here, we do not observe strictly the rules of the plains, and although the ladies, of course, wear veils when they go beyond the house, they put them aside indoors, and the families mix freely with each other, so that we get on very well. You see, there are very few changes ever made, and as many of the ladies are, like my wife, no longer young, we treat them as comrades."
In the morning Dick and Surajah mounted their horses, took a hearty farewell of the governor, and rode down to the gate. A soldier had been sent down, half an hour before, and they found their escort in readiness to move. They had decided that, before going to the next fort, they would ride round the foot of the hill of Savandroog. This they did, going at a foot pace, and scanning the cliffs and slopes as they passed. Sometimes they reined up their horses and rode a little farther back, so as to have a view to the very summit.
When they completed the round, they agreed that there were but two spots where it seemed to them that an ascent was barely possible, and they were very doubtful whether the difficulties, when examined more closely, would not prove to be absolutely insurmountable.
"That is not a satisfactory outlook," Dick said, "but fortunately there is, now, no motive for climbing the precipice. Certainly those places would be of no use to a party wanting to make an attack. In the first place, though you and I might get up, with soft shoes on, I am sure that English soldiers, with muskets and ammunition pouches, could never do it, especially at night; and in the daytime, even if a body of troops strong enough to be of any use could get up, those who first arrived at the top would be killed before the others could come to their assistance, and a few stones rolled down would sweep all behind them to the bottom.
"I don't like turning my back on the place," he went on, as they turned their horses' heads to the south; for Savandroog was the farthest north of the forts they were to visit. "It seems to me that, even now, my father may be there."
"How can that be, Dick?" Surajah said in surprise. "Nothing could be more straightforward than the governor seemed to be. I thought that he was even rash, in speaking as frankly as he did to us."
"I think he saw there was no fear of our repeating what he said, Surajah. He is a frank, outspoken old soldier, and has evidently been so disgusted at the treatment of the prisoners that he could not mince his words; and yet, you know, he did not absolutely say that he had no prisoners."
"No; I noticed that he did not reply directly to your question."
"On the contrary, he distinctly hesitated before he spoke. Now, why should he have done that? He might just as well have said, 'No, I have no prisoners. They are only sent up here for execution.' That would have been his natural answer. Instead of that he hesitated, and then began, 'I don't want any of them here; batches are sent up sometimes from Bangalore.' Now, why did he shirk the question? If it had been any other subject, I might not have noticed that he had not really answered it, but of course, as it was so important a one, I was listening most anxiously for his reply, and noticed his hesitation at once, and that he gave no direct answer at all.
"Now, think it over, Surajah. Why should he have hesitated, and why should he have turned the question off without answering it, unless there had been some reason? And if so, what could the reason be?"
Surajah had no suggestion to make, and they rode on for some distance in silence.
"It is quite evident," Dick went on, after a long pause, "that he is a kind-hearted man, and that he objects altogether to Tippoo's cruelty to the prisoners. Therefore, if he had any captives, his reason for not answering was most likely a kindly one."
"Yes, I should think so."
"You see, he would consider that we should report, to the sultan, all particulars we had gathered about the fortress. His remarks about the execution of the prisoners, and the worthlessness of the Chelah battalions, and so on, was a private conversation, and was only a matter of opinion. But, supposing he had had some prisoners, and had said so, we might, for anything he knew, have had orders to inspect them, and to report about them, as well as about the garrisons and defences."
"Yes, he might have thought that," Surajah agreed; "but after all, why should he mind that?"
Dick did not answer for some time. He was trying to think it out. Presently, he reined in his horse suddenly.
"This might be the reason," he said, excitedly. This governor may be the very one who we heard had taken my father with him, when he was moved from that fort up in the north. He was in command at Kistnagherry before he came here, after the war, and he may have gone to Kistnagherry from that fort in the north. You see there have been executions, but they have been those of fresh batches sent up, and the governor would not include the captive he had brought with him. In time, his very existence may have been forgotten, and he may still be living there. That would account for the governor's objection to answering the question, as he would be sure that, did Tippoo hear there was a prisoner there, he would send orders for him to be executed at once.
"This may be all fancy, Surajah, but I cannot think of any other reason why he should have shirked my question."
He took up the reins again, and the horse at once started forward. They rode for some little time in silence, Dick thinking the matter over, again and again, and becoming more and more convinced he was right; except that, as he admitted to himself, the prisoner whom the governor wished to shield might not be his father.
He was roused, at last, by Surajah asking the question, "Is there anything that you would like us to do?"
"Not now," Dick replied. "We could not go back again. We must visit the other forts on our list, and see what we can find out there. When we have quite assured ourselves that my father is not in any of them, we can think this over again; but at present we must put it aside. However, I sha'n't rest until I get to the bottom of it."
During the next ten days, they inspected the forts of Navandroog, Sundradroog, Outradroog, and Chitteldroog. Few of these were as extensive, and none so strong, as Savandroog. They did the official part of their business, and assured themselves that no English captives were contained in any of them. The governors all said that prisoners were never kept there many days, and that it was only when Tippoo wished to get rid of them that they were sent there. None of the governors made any objection to answering Dick's questions on the subject, generally adding an expression of satisfaction that prisoners were never left long under their charge.
"It entails a lot of trouble," the governor of Outradroog said. "They have to be watched incessantly, and one never feels certain they may not slip away. Look at this place. You would think that no one could make his escape; and yet, some ten years ago, fourteen of them got away from here. They slid down a precipice, where no one would have thought a human being could have got down alive. They were all of them retaken, except one, and executed the following day; but the sultan was so furious that, although it was no fault of the governor, who had sentries placed everywhere, he sent for him to Seringapatam, and threw him to the tigers, declaring that there must have been treachery at work. You may be sure that I have no desire to hold English prisoners, after that; and when they have been sent here have been glad, indeed, when orders came for their execution.
"A good many were ordered to be starved to death. But I never waited for that. It took too long. Do what I could, the guards would smuggle in pieces of bread, and they lingered on for weeks; so that it was more merciful to finish with them at once, besides making me feel comfortable at the knowledge that there was no chance of their making their escape. There were sentries at their doors, as well as on the walls, when the fourteen I have told you about escaped; but they dug a passage out at the back of their hut, chose a very dark night, and it was only when the sound of some stones, that they dislodged as they scrambled down the precipice, gave the alarm to the sentries, that their escape was discovered.
"No, I do not want any prisoners up here, and when they do come, there is no sleep for me until I get the order to execute them. But they do not often come now. Most of the prisoners who were not given up have been killed since, and there are not many of them left."
Upon finishing their round, they returned to Seringapatam, where Dick drew up a full report of the result of their investigations. The sultan himself went through it with them, questioned them closely, cut off a good many of the items, and gave orders that the other demands should be complied with, and the guns and ammunition sent off at once to the various forts, from the great arsenal at the capital.
Dick was depressed at the result of their journey. His hopes had fallen lower and lower, as, at each fort they visited, he heard the same story--that all prisoners sent up to the mountain fortresses had, in a short time, been put to death. It was possible, of course, that his father might still be at one of the towns where new levies had been drilled; but he had not, from the first, thought it likely that a merchant sailor would be put to this work; and had it not been that he clung to the belief that there was a prisoner at Savandroog, and that that prisoner was his father, he would have begun to despair.
It was true that there were still many hill forts scattered about the country, unvisited, but there seemed no reason why any of the prisoners should have been allowed to survive in these forts, when they had all been put to death in those they had visited, among which were the places that had been most used as prisons.
"I would give it up," he said to Surajah, "were it not that, in the first place, it would almost break my mother's heart. Her conviction that my father is still alive has never been shaken. It has supported her all these years, and I believe that, were I to return and tell her that it was no longer possible to hope, her faith would still be unshaken. She would still think of him as pining in some dungeon, and would consider that I had given up the search from faint heartedness. That is my chief reason. But I own that I am almost as much influenced by my own conviction that he is in Savandroog. I quite admit that I can give no reason whatever why, if there is a prisoner there, it should be my father, and yet I cannot get it out of my mind that it is he. I suppose it is because I have the conviction that I believe in it. Why should I have that impression so strongly, if it were not a true one? I tell myself that it is absurd, that I have no real grounds to go upon, and yet that does not shake my faith in the slightest. It is perhaps because we have been so fortunate. Altogether everything has turned out so favourably, that I can't help thinking he is alive, and that I shall find him.
"What do you think, Surajah? Ought we to give it up?"
"Why should we?" Surajah replied stoutly. "I think you are right, and that we are destined to find your father. There is no hurry. We have not been anything like so long a time as we expected to be, and Fortune has, as you say, befriended us wonderfully. We are well off here. We have positions of honour. For myself, I could wish for nothing better."
"Well, at any rate we will wait for a time," Dick said. "We may be sent to Savandroog again, and if so, I will not leave the place until I find out from the governor whether he has still a prisoner; and if so, manage to obtain a sight of him."
The next day, Dick was informed by the chamberlain that the officer who was in charge of the wild beasts had fallen into disgrace, and that the sultan had appointed him to the charge. Dick was well pleased, in some respects. The work would suit him much better than examining stores, and seeing that the servants of the Palace did their duty; but, on the other hand, it lessened his chance of being sent to Savandroog again. However, there was no choice in the matter, and Surajah cheered him by saying: "You must not mind, Dick. Has not everything turned out for the best? And you may be sure that this will turn out so, also."
It was, indeed, but two days later that Dick congratulated himself upon the change, for Surajah was sent by Tippoo with an order for the execution of four English prisoners. Dick knew nothing of the matter until Surajah, on his return, told him that he had been obliged to stop and see the orders carried out, by poison being forced down the unfortunate officers' throats.
"It was horrible," he said, with tears in his eyes.
"Horrible!" Dick repeated. "Thank God I have been put to other work, for I feel that I could not have done it. And yet, to have refused to carry out the tyrant's orders would have meant death to us both, while it would not have saved the lives of these poor fellows. Anyhow, I would not have done it. As soon as I had received the order I would have come to you, and we would have mounted and ridden off together, and taken our chance."
"Let us talk of something else," Surajah said. "Are the beasts all in good health?"
"As well as they can be, when they are fed so badly, and so miserably cooped up. I made a great row this morning, and have kept the men at work all day in cleaning out the places. They were all in a horrible state, and before I could get the work done, I had to threaten to report the whole of them to Tippoo, and they knew what would come of that. I told Fazli, last night, that the beasts must have more flesh, and got an order from him that all the bones from the kitchens should be given to them."
That evening when Dick, on his way to the apartments of one of the officers, was going along a corridor that skirted the portion of the Palace occupied by the zenana; a figure came out suddenly from behind the drapery of a door, dropped on her knees beside him, and, seizing his hand, pressed it to her forehead. It was, to all appearance, an Indian girl in the dress of one of the attendants of the zenana.
"What is it, child?" he said. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."
"No, Bahador," she said, "it is yourself I wanted to thank. One of the other attendants saw you go along this corridor, some time ago, and ever since I have watched here of an evening, whenever I could get away unobserved, in hopes of seeing you. It was I, my lord, whom the tiger was standing over when you came to our rescue. I was not greatly hurt, for I was pushed down when the tiger burst in, and, save that it seized me with one of its paws, and tore my shoulder, I was unhurt. Ever since I have been hoping that the time would come when I could thank you for saving my life."
"I am glad to have done so, child. But you had best retire into the zenana. It would not be good for you, or me, were I found talking to you."
The girl rose to her feet submissively, and he now saw her face, which, in the dim light that burnt in the corridor, he had not hitherto noticed.
"Why," he exclaimed, with a start, "you are English!"
"Yes, Sahib. I was brought here eight years ago. I am fourteen now. There were other English girls here then, but they were all older than me, and have been given away to officers of the sultan. I am afraid I shall be, too, ere long. I have dreaded it so much! But oh, Sahib, you are a favourite of the sultan. If he would but give me to you, I should not mind so much."
Dick was about to reply, when he heard a distant footfall.
"Go in," he exclaimed. "Someone is coming. I will speak to you again, in a day or two."
When he returned to his room, he told Surajah what had happened.
"It will, at any rate, give me a fresh interest here," he said. "It is terrible to think that a young English girl should be in Tippoo's power, and that he can give her, whenever he likes, to one of his creatures. Of course, according to our English notions, she is still but a young girl, but as your people out here marry when the girls are but of the age of this child, it is different altogether."
"She does not suspect that you are English?"
"No. As I told you, I had only just discovered that she was so, when I heard a footstep in the distance. But I shall see her again, tomorrow or next day."
"You will be running a great risk," Surajah said gravely.
"Not much risk, I think," Dick replied. "She is only a little slave girl, and as the tiger was standing over her when I fired, no doubt I did save her life, and it would be natural enough that she would, on meeting me, speak to me and express her thanks."
"That would be a good excuse," Surajah agreed. "But a suspicious tyrant, like Tippoo, might well insist that this was only a pretence, and that the girl was really giving you a letter or message from one of the inmates of the zenana."
Dick was silent for a time.
"I will be very careful," he said. "I must certainly see her again, and it seems to me, at present, that whatever risk there may be, I must try to save this poor girl from the fate that awaits her. I cannot conceal from myself that, however much I may refuse to admit it, the hopes of my finding and saving my father are faint indeed; and although this girl is nothing to me, I should feel that my mission had not been an entire failure, if we could take her home with us and restore her to her friends.
"No, I don't think," he went on, in answer to a grave shake of Surajah's head, "that it would add to our danger in getting away. We know that, if we try to escape and are caught, our lives will be forfeited in any case; and if she were disguised as a boy, we could travel with her without attracting any more observation than we should alone. She would not be missed for hours after she had left, and there would be no reason, whatever, for connecting her departure with ours. I don't say, Surajah, that I have made up my mind about it--of course it has all come fresh to me, and I have not had time to think it over in any way. Still, it does seem to me that when the time for our leaving comes, whether we ride off openly as Tippoo's officers, or whether we go off in disguise, there ought to be no very great difficulty in taking her away with us. You see that yourself, don't you?"
"I can't give any opinion about it, at present," Surajah replied. "I do think that it will add to our difficulties, however we may go, but I don't say it cannot be managed."
"I should think not, Surajah, and it would be worth doing, however great the difficulties might be. Just think of the grief that her parents must feel, at her loss, and the joy when she is restored to them. You see, it would be no great loss of time, if we were obliged to take her down to Tripataly first, and then come back again to renew our search. It would take but a week, going and returning, and now that the passes are all open to us, the difficulties would be nothing to what they were when we went back after our scouting expedition. Besides, at that time they were more vigilant, all along the frontier, than they will be now, because there was war between the two countries, and Tippoo was anxious that no news of his movements should be taken down. There is no talk of war now, for though Tippoo makes no disguise of his fury at his losses, especially at Coorg being taken from him, and is evidently bent upon fighting again, it will take a very long time to get his army into an efficient state, to repair his fortresses, to complete all the new works of defence he is getting up here, and to restore the confidence of his soldiers.
"I should think it will be fully four or five years before he is ready to fight again. At any rate, if we once get well away from here with the girl, we ought to have no difficulty in getting across the frontier. It would mean but a fortnight lost in the search for my father, and, anyhow, we are not making any progress that way as long as we stop here. The only drawback would be, so far as I can see, that we should lose the benefit of our official positions, but unless we happen to be sent off with orders to other hill forts, that position will only hamper our movements. Besides, we should still have our badges of office, and Tippoo's official orders to the governors. Possibly, the news that we had disappeared might reach the governors of some of the forts in this neighbourhood, but it would not be likely to travel very far. His officers so frequently fall into disgrace, and are either killed or thrown to the tigers, that the fact of our being missing would scarce excite a remark, and those who heard of it would suppose that we had either been secretly made away with, or that, having learned that Tippoo was displeased with us, we had fled."
Surajah nodded. His confidence in his leader was complete, and he was always ready to follow unquestioningly.
"There is one thing, Surajah," Dick concluded. "This state of things cannot last much longer, anyhow, for next time it might be me he ordered to see to the execution of an English prisoner, and that would mean that I should, as soon as I received the command, make a bolt for it. So you see our stay here, in any case, may not last many days. I would rather run any risks than carry out such an order."
Two evenings later, Dick went down the corridor at the same hour as that on which he had before met the English girl. She came out from behind the hangings at once, when he passed.
"I knew you would come, Bahador!" she said joyfully. "I could see that you were as kind as you were brave, and would have pity upon a poor little white slave!"
"I have much that I want to say to you, child. This is not a good place for speaking. Someone might come along at any moment. How long can you be away, without fear of your absence being noticed?"
"Not long now," she said. "In the morning I am sent out on messages, and could meet you anywhere."
"Very well. I will remain in my room all the morning, tomorrow, and if you do not come then, I will stay in next day."
"I will come," the girl said unhesitatingly.
He then gave her full instructions how to find his room, and made her repeat them to him, in order to be sure that she had them correctly.
"Do you know my companion by sight?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. I have seen him often."
"Well, either he or I will be standing at my door. It is as well that you should look carefully round, before you enter, so as to be sure there is no one in the corridor, and that you can slip in unobserved. You may be sure that I am asking you to come for no idle freak, but because I have something very important to say to you.
"I fancy I hear footsteps. Good night."
Dick was sure that he and Surajah would both be at liberty next day, for Tippoo had that morning started for Bangalore, where a large number of men were at work, repairing the fortifications and removing all signs of the British occupation from the fort and palace. He was likely to be away for at least a fortnight. As soon as Ibrahim had swept the room, after their early breakfast, Dick gave him a number of small commissions to be executed in the town, and told him that he should not require him again until it was time to bring up their meal from the kitchen. Then he and Surajah, by turns, watched at the door.
An hour later Surajah, who was upon the watch, said: "The girl is coming."
There was no one else in sight, and when Surajah beckoned to her, she hurried on, and, passing through the curtains at the door, entered the room. It had been arranged that Surajah should remain on watch, so that should, by any chance, one of the officials of their acquaintance come along, he might go out and talk with him in the corridor, and, on some excuse or other, prevent his entering the room, if he showed any intention of doing so.
"Now, in the first place," Dick said, as he led the girl to the divan and seated her there, "what is your name?"
"My name is Goorla."
"No; I mean your proper name?"
"My name used to be Annie--Annie Mansfield, Bahador."
"And my name is Dick Holland," he said, in English.
She gave a start of surprise.
"Yes, Annie, I am a countryman of yours."
She looked at him almost incredulously, and then an expression of aversion succeeded that of confidence in her face. She sprang from the divan, and drew herself up indignantly.
"Please let me go," she said haughtily. "You have saved my life, but if you had saved it twenty times, I could not like a man who is a deserter!"
Dick had at first been speechless with astonishment at the girl's change of manner, and at her reception of the news he had thought would have been very pleasant to her. As her last words threw a light upon the matter, he burst into a merry laugh.
"I am no deserter, Annie. Save my friend at the door and yourself, there is no one here who knows that I am English. Sit down again, and I will tell you how I come to be here.
"My father was the captain of an English ship. She was wrecked on the west coast, and he was seized and brought up here a prisoner, eight years ago. My mother, who is a daughter of the late Rajah of Tripataly, who married an English lady, taught me to speak Hindustani, so that when I got old enough I could come out here and try to find out if my father was still alive, and if so, to help him to escape. I had only just come up here, with my friend, who is an officer of the Rajah's, when that affair with the tiger took place. Then, as you know, Tippoo made us both officers in the Palace. Of course, while we are here we can do nothing towards finding out about my father, and we should not have remained here much longer anyway, and may have to leave at any moment. Since you met me, and I found that there was an English girl captive here, it has of course changed my plans, and I feel that I could not go away and leave you to the fate you told me of, and that if possible, I must take you away with me. That is, of course, if you are willing to go with us, and prepared to run a certain amount of risk.
"Do not take on so," he continued, as the girl threw herself on her knees, and, clinging to him, burst into a passion of tears. "Do not cry like that;" and, stooping down, he lifted her, and placed her in a corner of the divan. "There," he said, patting her on the shoulder, as she sobbed almost convulsively; "try and compose yourself. We may be disturbed at any moment, and may not have an opportunity of talking again, so we must make our arrangements, in readiness to leave suddenly. I may find it necessary to go at an hour's notice. You may, as you said, be given by Tippoo to one of his favourites at any time. Fortunately he has gone away for a fortnight, so we have, at any rate, that time before us to make our plans. Still, it is better that we should arrange, now, as much as we can."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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15
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: Escape.
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Annie Mansfield was not long before she mastered her emotions. She had learned to do so in a bitter school. Beaten for the slightest fault, or at the mere caprice of one of her many mistresses, she had learned to suffer pain without a tear; to assume a submissive attitude under the greatest provocation; to receive, without attempting to defend herself, punishment for faults she had not committed; and to preserve an appearance of cheerfulness, when her heart seemed breaking at the hopelessness of any deliverance from her fate. For the last six months she had been specially unhappy, for when Seringapatam had been besieged she had hoped that, when it was captured, her countrymen would search the Palace and see that, this time, no English captive remained behind. Her disappointment, then, when she heard that peace had been made, and that the English army was to march away, without even an attempt to see that the condition for the release of captives was faithfully carried out, had for a time completely crushed her, and all hope had forsaken her.
Thus, then, while she had been, for a moment, overwhelmed at finding that her preserver from the tiger was a countryman in disguise, and that he was willing to make an attempt to rescue her; yet in a few minutes she stifled her sobs, hastily thrust back the hair that had fallen over her face, uncoiled herself from her crouching position in the angle of the divan, and rose to her feet.
"I can hardly believe it to be true," she said, in a low voice. "Oh, Sahib, do you really mean what you say? And are you willing to run the risk of taking me away with you?"
"Of course I am," Dick said heartily. "You don't suppose that an Englishman would be so base as to leave a young countrywoman in the hands of these wretches? I do not think that there is much risk in it. Of course, you will have to disguise yourself, and there may be some hardships to go through, but once away from here we are not likely to be interfered with. You see, my friend and I are officers of the Palace, and no one would venture to question us, as we should be supposed to be travelling upon the sultan's business. There is peace at present, and although Tippoo may intend, some day or other, to fight again, everything is settling down quietly. Traders go about the country unquestioned. There is plenty of traffic on the roads from one town to another; and so long as your disguise is good enough to prevent your being recognised as a white, there is no greater danger in travelling, in Mysore, than there would be down in the Carnatic."
Annie stood before him, with her fingers playing nervously with each other. Long trained in habits of implicit obedience, and to stand in an attitude of deep respect before her numerous mistresses, she was in ignorance whether she ought to speak or not. She had been but a child of six, when she had been carried off. Her remembrance of English manners had quite died out, and the habit of silent submission had become habitual to her. Dick was puzzled by her silence.
"Of course, Annie," he said, at last, "I don't want you to go with me, if you would rather stay here, or if you are afraid of the risk of travelling."
She looked up with frightened eyes.
"Oh, Sahib, it is not that; I would go, even if I felt sure I should be found out and cut to pieces. Anything would be better than this. I am not afraid at all.
"But forgive me, Sahib. I don't know how to thank you. I don't know what is proper to say. It is all so strange and so wonderful."
"Oh, that is all right, Annie," Dick said cheerfully. "Of course, you will feel it a little strange, just at starting.
"Well, in the first place, you must call me Dick, instead of calling me sahib; and in the next place, you must talk to me freely, as a friend, and not stand as if I were your master. While we are on this journey together, consider me as a sort of big brother. When we get down the ghauts I shall hand you over to the care of my mother, who is living at present at Tripataly with her brother, the Rajah.
"Now sit down again, and let us make our arrangements. When we have done that we can talk, if there is time. Now, how am I to let you know if I have to go away suddenly? Do you always get out at this time of a morning?"
"Not always, but very often. I always go down at twelve o'clock, with some of the other slave girls, to fetch the food and sweetmeats for the ladies of the harem."
"Well, you must always manage, even if you are not sent out, to look out through that doorway where you met me, at eight o'clock in the morning. If we have anything particular to say to you, Surajah--that is my friend, you know--will be there. Which way do you go out from the harem to fetch the food?"
"Not from that door, but from the one nearest to the kitchen. You go right down that corridor, and then take the first turning to the right. There is a flight of stairs at its end. We come out at the door just at its head. At the foot of the stairs there is a long passage, and at the end of that is a large room, with tables, on which the dishes are placed in readiness for us to bring back."
"Well, if it is necessary to speak to you at once, one of us will meet you in the passage between the bottom of the stairs and the room where the food is. If you see one of us, you will know that the matter is urgent, and as soon as you can possibly slip away, you must come here. In the evening you had better again look out from the door where you first met me.
"Now, as to the disguise, it will be better for you to go as a boy. It would be strange to see a girl riding behind two of the officers of the Palace. You won't mind that, will you?"
"Not at all, Sahib."
"Not at all, Dick," he corrected. "Well, I will have a dress ready for you here. You will find it in that corner, and there will be a bottle of stain on the table. It will be only necessary for you to colour your neck, hands, and feet, but you must cut off your hair, behind, to a level with your ears, so that none of it will show below the turban. You must do that, of course, before you stain your neck, and must stain the skin where you have cut off your hair, also. I am giving you these instructions now, because when the time comes there may not be a minute to spare, though, of course, I hope there will be no desperate hurry."
"I understand," she said, "and will look out for you, three times a day."
"Of course," he went on, "if you are suddenly told that you are to be given to any one, you must slip out at once, and come here. You will find everything ready for you to disguise yourself, and you must do that at once, and wait here till one of us comes. Even if you are missed, it will be some time before any search is made, and it would be thought much more likely that you had gone down into the town, than that you were hiding in the Palace, so there would be no chance of their looking for you here before we return. Anyhow, we shall be able to have another talk before Tippoo comes back. We shall be here every morning until nine, and if you are able to get away again, come and see us.
"It will be better, perhaps, for you not to wait any longer, now. I suppose you have been charged with some message or other, and it would not do for you to be too long gone."
The girl stood up at once.
"I have to go down to the Pettah, to get some sewing silk to match this;" and she drew out a small fragment of yellow silk.
"Very well, then. You had better go and do it, or they may think that you are too long away.
"Goodbye, Annie. I hope that in another week, or ten days at the latest, I shall have you out of this;" and he held out his hand to her.
She took it timidly, and would have raised it to her forehead, but Dick said, laughing: "That is not the way, Annie. English girls don't treat their friends as if they were lords and masters. They just shake hands with them, as if it were two men, or two girls."
"I shall know better, in time," she said, with a faint smile, though her eyes were full of tears. "I want to do something, though I don't know what. You saved my life from the tiger, and now you are going to save me again. I should like to throw myself down, and kiss your feet."
"You would make me horribly uncomfortable, if you did anything of the sort, Annie. I can understand that you feel strange and out of your element, at present, but you will soon get over that, when you come to know me better.
"There, goodbye, lassie. I hope to see you again, tomorrow or next day, and then you will be able to tell me more about yourself.
"Is the coast clear, Surajah?"
Surajah looked out through the curtains.
"There is no one in sight," he said, a moment later.
The girl passed silently out, and went down the corridor. Surajah returned from his post by the door.
"The poor girl is shy and awkward, as yet," Dick said, "but I think she will be plucky enough, when the time comes. You heard what we said. The first thing will be to get her disguise ready for her. What do you think? Had we better take Ibrahim with us? I think he is to be trusted."
"I am sure he is," Surajah agreed. "He is a Hindoo of Coorg, and was carried away as a slave, six years ago. In the first place, he will be delighted at the prospect of getting away; and in the next, I am sure that he is very fond of you. But there is no occasion to tell him that you are English."
"No, it will be time enough to do that when we get over the ghauts. It will be better that he should get the disguise. In the first place, he will know exactly what is wanted; and in the next, it would look rum for either of us to be buying such a thing. Of course, we could ask Pertaub to get it for us, but if we take Ibrahim with us he may as well buy it.
"We shall want a couple more horses. These, of course, we can buy ourselves, and saddles and things. When we have got them, we had better leave them at some place on the other side of the river. Pertaub would help us, there. He is sure to know someone who will look after them for a few days. Then Ibrahim and the girl can start together, go over there and saddle them, so as to be in readiness to mount, directly we come along. We will stop at the wood and dig up the caskets. There is nothing like taking them away with us, when there is a chance, and it is not likely that we shall come back to Seringapatam again--it would be like putting our heads into a tiger's den."
When Ibrahim brought in the dishes for their meal, Dick said: "Go down and get your own food, Ibrahim, and when you have done come back here again. I want to have a talk with you."
They had just finished their meal, when Ibrahim returned.
"Ibrahim, would you be glad of a chance of getting away from here, and returning to your own country?"
"I would have given anything to do so, my lord," Ibrahim said, "before I was ordered to attend upon you. But I am happy now. You are kind to me, and I should not like to leave your service."
"But if I were going too, Ibrahim?"
"Then, my lord, I would go with you anywhere, if you would take me."
"Well, Ibrahim, we feel sure that we can trust you, and so I may tell you that I think it likely we shall, very shortly, go away. You know what the sultan is. One day he gives you honours and rewards, the next he disgraces you, and perhaps sends you into the ranks of the army, perhaps has you thrown to the tigers. We do not care to live under such conditions, and we mean, in a few days, to slip away and go to our friends down the ghauts. You can come with us, if you like."
"I would go with you to the end of the world, my lord," Ibrahim exclaimed earnestly. "To go with you and be a free man, and not a slave, would be almost too great happiness."
"Very well, then, that is settled. Now, Ibrahim, we are not going alone. We are going to take with us a young white slave in the harem, and restore her to her friends. I want you to get a disguise for her. Let it be a dress like your own--long white trousers to the ankle, a shirt and tunic with waist belt, also the stuff for a turban. That you must wind in proper folds, as she would not be able to do it herself. I also want a bottle of stain for the skin."
"I will get them, my lord. How tall is she?"
"About half a head shorter than you are. She is about the size of an average Hindoo woman."
"Shall I get the things at once, my lord?"
"Yes, you had better get them today. We may leave at any time, and it is as well to have them in readiness. We shall buy two horses, one for each of you, and have them taken across the river. You can ride, I suppose?"
"Yes; I used to ride when I was a boy, before Tippoo came down and killed my father and mother, and brought me up here. Will my lord want me to take the horses across?"
"I will tell you that in the morning, Ibrahim. We are going down into the town, now, to inquire about them, but we shall not buy any until tomorrow, as we shall have to make arrangements for them to be kept for us, until we want them."
They did not go out until it was dark, and then took their way to Pertaub's house. The old Hindoo was in.
"I am glad to see you, Sahibs," he said to Dick, as they entered. "I have always fears that ill may, in some way, befall you."
"We are going to leave, Pertaub. Surajah had, two days ago, to go up to see four English prisoners put to death at one of the hill forts. Next time I may be ordered on such a duty. I could not carry it out, and you know that refusal would probably mean death. Moreover, we are convinced that we have no means, here, of finding out what captives may still be in Tippoo's hands, and have therefore determined to leave. We are going to take with us our servant, Ibrahim, who is a slave from Coorg; and will, we know, be faithful to us; and also a young English girl who has, for eight years, been a slave in Tippoo's harem. She will go with us in the disguise of a boy. This Ibrahim is getting for us. We are going to buy a couple of horses for them, and shall make straight down the ghauts, where I shall leave the girl in my mother's care."
"It is a good action," the Hindoo said gravely.
"Now, in the first place, Pertaub, would you like to go with us? Riding as we shall do, as two of the officers of the Palace, it is not likely that any questions whatever will be asked, and certainly we shall have no difficulty until it comes to crossing the frontier."
"No, Sahib. I thank you, but I am too old, now, for any fresh change. I have friends here, and have none below the ghauts. Nothing save the rescue of my daughter from the harem would induce me to move now, and of that there is little chance. She will, by this time, have become reconciled to her fate, and would probably not care to escape, were an opportunity offered to her. Besides, with only me to protect her, what would she do elsewhere? A few months, and she might be left alone in the world."
"As to that," Dick said, "I could promise her the protection of my aunt, the wife of the Rajah of Tripataly. After the kindness that you have shown to us she would, I am sure, gladly take her into her service. And there would be no difficulty about a dowry for her. I would see to that."
The old man shook his head.
"There could be no question of marriage," he said; "but should I ever hear from her that she is unhappy, and I can arrange to fly with her, I will assuredly avail myself of your offer, and take her to Tripataly; rejoiced indeed that, at my death, there will be a shelter open to her.
"And now, can I aid you in any way, Sahib? One of my friends, a merchant, could get the horses for you without difficulty. He has often occasion to buy them, for the purposes of his trade."
"Thank you, Pertaub. I had intended to buy them myself, but doubtless it will be safer for somebody else to do so. What I was going to ask you was to let me know of some place, on the other side of the river, where the horses could be kept until I want them."
"That I can do, Sahib. I have a friend, a cultivator. His house stands by itself on this side of the first village--the one half a mile beyond the ford. It is the only house this side of the village, so you cannot mistake it. It lies about a hundred yards back from the road. I will go over and arrange with him that, when two horses arrive, they shall be placed in his stalls, and remain there until one arrives who will say to him, after greeting, the word 'Madras'. To him he is to deliver the horses at once, whether he comes by night or day."
"That would do admirably, Pertaub. Of course, I shall also want saddles and bridles. How much do you think it will come to, altogether? I do not want showy horses, but they must be animals capable of performing a long journey, and of travelling at a fair rate of speed--the faster the better. We are likely to get seven or eight hours start, at least; but must, of course, travel fast. As long as all goes well, I shall keep the main roads, but if there is a breakdown, or an unforeseen accident occurs, I may have to leave the road and take to bypaths."
"The cost of such horses would be about eighty rupees each; the saddles and bridles another fifteen or twenty."
"Then here are two hundred rupees, Pertaub."
"Have you given up all hope of finding your father, Sahib? I have felt so sure that you would be successful. It seemed to me that such brave efforts could not go unrewarded."
"No, Pertaub, I have not given it up, at all. I intend to stay at Tripataly for a fortnight, with my mother, and shall then come up the ghauts again.
"That is another matter I want to speak to you about. Of course, we should not dare to return to Seringapatam, and I think that we had better settle to go to Bangalore. Could you forward our packs, with the merchandise, to someone in that town?"
"There will be no difficulty in that, Sahib. There are many Hindoo merchants there, who have been forced to change their religion, and who have frequent dealings with traders here. One of my friends will, I am sure, forward your goods with the next consignment that he sends to Bangalore. That, also, I will arrange tomorrow, and when you come in the evening will give you the name of the trader there, together with a letter from the one here, telling him that you are the person to whom the goods are to be given up."
"Thank you, Pertaub. I don't know what we should have done, without your assistance."
"It has been a pleasure, to me, to be of use to you, Sahib. I had thought my time of usefulness was over, and it has given a real pleasure to my life to have been able to aid you. You will let me know, Sahib, if ever you find your father?"
"Certainly, Pertaub. I will, in any case, send word to you, either that I have found him, or that I have given up all hope and have abandoned my efforts."
The next morning a lad brought Dick a message, from Pertaub, that he had fulfilled all his commissions; and on the following morning, Annie Mansfield again came to Dick's room.
"Everything is going on well, Annie," Dick said, as he shook hands with her. "The horses have been bought. There is your disguise in that corner, and we can start any moment, at a quarter of an hour's notice.
"Now, I want you to tell me how you came to be brought up here."
"I have not much to tell," she said. "You see, I was only six years old. I can remember there was a great deal of firing of guns, and that lasted for a long time. Then the firing stopped. I suppose the place surrendered."
"Do you know what place it was, Annie?"
She shook her head.
"I do not know at all. I suppose I did know, then, but I do not remember ever to have heard the name. I remember quite well that there were soldiers, and Father and Mother, and servants, and many other people, and everyone was very miserable, and we all went together out of a gate, and on each side there were a great many natives with guns and swords, some on horse and some on foot; and there were elephants. I don't think I had ever seen one before, for I noticed them particularly. We went on and on, and I know one of the soldiers carried me.
"At night we stopped somewhere. I think it was in a wood, and there were fires, and we lay down to sleep on the ground. Then I woke up suddenly, and there was a great noise and firing of guns, and someone caught me up and threw something over my head, and I don't remember anything more, for a long time. I know that presently I was on horseback, before a fierce-looking man. There were a good many of them, and when I cried for my father and mother, they said they would cut off my head if I were not quiet.
"I do not know how long we were travelling, but after the first day there was only the man who carried me, and another. I was brought here, and there were many people, and I was very much frightened. Then I found myself only among women, and they took off my clothes and dressed me in their fashion. I think I was very happy, when I once got accustomed to it. The ladies made a sort of pet of me, and I was taught to dance and to sing little native songs. There were other white girls here, and they were all very kind to me, though they always seemed very sad, and I could not make out why they cried so often, especially when they were beaten for crying.
"As I grew bigger, I was not so happy. I had ceased to be a plaything, and little by little I was set to work to sweep and dust, and then to sew, and then to do all sorts of work, like the other slave girls. The other white girls gradually went away, the oldest first. The last two, who were two or three years older than I was, went about three years ago.
"At first, I used to wonder why they cried so when they went, and why the others all cried, too; but by the time the last two left, I had come to know all about it, and knew that they had been given by the sultan to his favourite officers.
"There were many white men here, when I first came. When I went out with one of the slaves, into the town, I saw them often. Sometimes they would burst into tears when they saw me. Then I used to wonder why, but I know now that I must have reminded them of girls of their own, whom they would never see again. Then, till three years ago, there were about twenty white boys who had been taught to dance and sing, and who used to come sometimes, dressed up like women, to amuse the ladies of the harem; but I heard that they were all killed, when the sultan first thought that the English might come here. One of the slave girls told me that it was done because the sultan had often sworn, to the English, that there were no white captives here, and so he did not wish that any should be found, if they came.
"I don't think that I have anything else to tell you."
"Well, I hope that what you have told me will be enough to enable us, some day, to find out who you belong to. Evidently you were in some place that was besieged, eight years ago, and had to surrender. The garrison were promised their lives and liberty to depart. They were attacked at night by an armed party, who may have been Hyder's horsemen, but who were perhaps merely a party of mounted robbers, who thought that they might be able to take some loot. Most likely they were defeated, especially as you saw no other captives in the party, but in the confusion of the night attack, one of them probably came upon you, and carried you off, thinking you would be an acceptable present here, and that he would get a reward for you from the sultan.
"Are you not noticed, when you go into the streets on errands?"
"No; I always go veiled. Except the slaves who are old and ugly, all the others wear veils when they go outside the Palace, and we all wear a red scarf, which shows we are servants in the harem; and so, even when the town is full of rough soldiers, no one ventures to speak to us.
"Now tell me, Dick--you see I have not forgotten--all about how you came to be here."
Dick told her, briefly, how he had come out with his mother; and how, finding war had broken out, he had joined the army; and how, at the end of the war, having been able to learn nothing about his father, he had come up with Surajah to search for him.
"And then you saw that tiger break in," the girl said, eagerly. "That was dreadful. I will tell you how it was the tiger came to seize me. I was standing behind a lady, and could not see anything. Suddenly they all began screaming, and ran, some to one side, some to the other, of the window; and I, who could not think what was the matter, remained where I was, when there was a great cry, and before I had time to move, or even to wonder, some great thing knocked me down. It was only from the screams of the ladies, and their cries of 'Tiger!' that I knew what had happened. I felt something heavy standing on me--so heavy that I could hardly breathe; and indeed, I did not try to breathe, for I knew many stories of tigers, and had heard that sometimes, when a man shams being dead, the tiger will walk away and kill someone else.
"The tiger was keeping up an angry growl, and I felt that, unless it took its paw off me, I should soon die, when I heard a shot, and a fierce growl from the tiger, and then the weight was gone, and I think I fainted. When I came round, I was lying where I fell, for many of the ladies were insensible, and everyone was too busy with them to think anything of me.
"When I got up, one of the other slave girls, who had been brave enough to look out of the window, told me that it had been killed by two young men, one of whom must have been the one who had fired the shot in at the window. I went and looked out, and saw it lying there. After that every one talked, and laughed, and cried, and then the sultan's chief wife said that everyone must make a present to the young men who had saved us, and that each one ought to give one of her best jewels. Of course, everyone did. I had nothing to give, except a little cross of gold filigree work, that hung round my neck when I was carried off. It had been hidden by my dress. The men had not noticed it, and they had not taken it away when I was brought here. It was such a poor little gift, but it was all I had."
"I noticed it, Annie," Dick said; "there was a little flat plate behind it, with the letters 'A. M.' and I thought, then, that it must be some little ornament taken from one of the Englishwomen Hyder's troops killed. It is fortunate you kept it, for it may be useful, someday, in proving that you are Annie Mansfield."
"Now I must be going," she said. "I was slapped and pinched, last time, for being so long, but I have several things to get today, so that if I hurry I can be back again as soon as they expect me. You have not settled when you are going, yet?"
"No; but we rather think of going the day after tomorrow. It will be better to do so before Tippoo comes back, for we might be ordered away so quickly as to have no time to make arrangements. Besides, there will be ten times as many people about, in the Palace, and more guards at the entrances when he returns. So, altogether, it will be better to go before he does so. If we settle it so, I will come along past your door, tomorrow evening; and if I say, 'Tomorrow morning,' get here as soon as you can in the morning, and directly you have stained your skin and put on your disguise, we will start. My servant, who is going with us, will act as your guide, and will take you to the place where the horses are, and where we shall join you, almost as soon as you get there."
At the appointed time, next evening, Dick told Annie that they should start in the morning. He and Surajah then went down and said goodbye to Pertaub, and Dick gave him a letter to his aunt, to give to her should he ever go to Tripataly with his daughter.
"It may be," he said, "that neither Surajah nor I may be there, but I shall speak to her about you, and of course tell her how much you have done for us; so you may be sure of the heartiest welcome from her."
"And you will also find a hearty friend in my father, Rajbullub," Surajah said. "He is principal officer in the Rajah's household, and will treat you as a brother, and your daughter as if she were my sister."
Then they returned to the Palace, where they had a final talk over the route that it would be best to pursue. The nearest point to the new frontier was the territory ceded to the English on the Malabar coast. But this would entail a long sea voyage, and they therefore determined to make for Caveripatam, going by the road that led through Anicull, and then through Ryacotta, which stood just outside the line of territory ceded to England, and from whence a road led direct down the passes. Anicull lay nearly due south of Bangalore, but the road they would follow would not be the one by which Tippoo would return, as he would come by the main road, which ran in a direct line between the two cities.
Ibrahim was informed of their plans, and was told to warn the syce to get their horses saddled and in readiness at eight o'clock, and that, as they were going for a long day's ride, he would not be required to accompany them--as he always did when they rode only into the town, for then he might be wanted to hold the horses, if they dismounted and went into a shop.
He was also to give notice, in the kitchen, that they would not return to the midday meal, and that dishes for them would therefore not be required. Thus it would be unlikely that any suspicion would be aroused by their absence until they had been gone twenty-four hours, by which time they would be more than halfway to the frontier.
They went to bed at their usual time, and slept soundly, for it seemed to them both that there was practically no risk whatever to be run, and that they would be across the frontier before any active search was made for them. Even when it was discovered that they had left the Palace, it would be thought that they had received some order from Bangalore, either to join the sultan, or to go on some mission for him that had occupied more time than they had anticipated on starting. The idea that two officers, who were considered to stand high in Tippoo's favour, should desert, would scarcely occur to anyone.
In the morning they were up early, completed their slight preparations, and took their early breakfast, reserving a portion for Annie, who, they thought, would not improbably have eaten nothing before coming to them.
She was a quarter of an hour late in arriving, and looked somewhat pale and flurried.
"They did not send me out this morning," she said, "and so I had to stay, until I could slip out without being noticed; but they may miss me at any moment."
"That will be all right," Dick said confidently. "They will search all the rooms in the harem for you, first, and certainly won't look for you outside, until there has been a lot of talk over your absence. But even if they do search, you will be able, in a few minutes, to walk through the middle of them without being suspected.
"However, we will lose no time; and to begin with, I will cut off what hair is necessary. I shall do it a good deal quicker than you would. Then we will leave you to yourself, to stain your skin and put on your disguise. When you have finished, clap your hands. Ibrahim will come in and see that your disguise is all right, and that your turban covers your hair. Then he will go with you. We shall be waiting near the gate. There is practically no chance of your being asked any questions, but if you are, and there is any difficulty, we will pass you through all right. Having seen you on your way, we shall mount and follow you."
The operation of cutting off Annie's hair, to the line of her ears, was speedily done; then, with a few reassuring words, Dick joined Surajah in the corridor. As they walked down it he said: "I don't like leaving them to themselves. Look here, Surajah, you go down to the stable, and mount at once. Tell the syce I shall come for my horse in a few minutes. Then ride out, and take your post where you can see them come out of the gate, and then follow them closely. I will stay here, and see them safely through the gate, and then mount and follow you. I shall overtake you before you get to the ford."
"That will perhaps be safest," Surajah agreed, "though I should think there is no chance of her being suspected, seeing that she will be with Ibrahim. Even if they met one of the Palace officers, and he asked Ibrahim who he had with him, he could say it was a lad who had come to you respecting some horses you had bought."
"Yes, that would do very well."
Dick returned to Ibrahim, who was squatting down in the corridor near the door.
"I am going to follow you, until you are through the gate, and shall keep a short distance behind you. If you should meet any officer on your way out, who may ask you who you have with you, say he has come with a message to me from a trader in the town. By the time you have told him that, I shall be up."
"There is no chance of being questioned, my lord. People come and go all day."
"That is so, Ibrahim, but one cannot be too careful."
They stood, talking together, until they heard Annie clap her hands within. Ibrahim entered at once, and in two or three minutes came out again with the girl. Ibrahim carried a bundle.
"You will do very well," Dick said to Annie. "I should not know you, in the least. You make a capital boy.
"What bundle is that, Ibrahim? I thought you took our other disguises on, yesterday, to the stable where the horses are."
"Yes, my lord, I took them on. These are the things she has taken off. I thought, perhaps, it would be better not to leave them here, as, if they were found, it would be known that she had gone with you."
"I don't think it makes much difference, Ibrahim, but perhaps it is as well to bring them away. We can leave the bundle in the wood.
"Now, go along. I will follow. Perhaps I had better go first. Keep a few paces behind me."
They passed through the long passages of the Palace, without attracting the slightest attention. Once or twice, Dick paused to speak to some officials of his acquaintance, the others stopping respectfully a few paces away. Then he went out into the courtyard, and across to the gate, and as the sentries saluted he stopped, and asked them a few questions as to the regiment they belonged to, until Ibrahim and his companion, who had passed straight through, were well away. He saw Surajah sitting upon his horse, a couple of hundred yards away, and then went to the stables.
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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16
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: The Journey.
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The syce brought out his horse, as soon as he saw Dick approaching.
"You need not wait up for us, after nine o'clock," Dick said, as he mounted. "It is possible that we may be detained, and shall not return until tomorrow evening. If we come, we shall certainly be back by nine at the latest, and we shall not be back before seven, at any rate, so that until then you are free to do as you like."
He rode quietly off, and did not quicken his pace until he had got beyond the fort. Then he touched the horse with his heel, and cantered down to the ford. Surajah was halfway across the river, when he reached it. The other two figures were just ascending the road up the other bank.
Surajah checked his horse, when he got across, and waited till Dick joined him.
"Shall we go on with them to the farmhouse?" he asked.
"We may as well do so as halt in the road. Besides, there are the things Ibrahim took over yesterday, to put into our saddlebags. There is another thing that I never thought of. Of course, the girl has never been on a horse, and that may give us a good deal of trouble. I wonder I did not think of it, though if I had, I don't see that anything else could have been done. We must see how she gets on, and if she cannot manage I must take her before me, whenever we see that the road is clear for a good distance ahead. Of course, it does not matter about country people, but if we see a body of troops coming in the distance, she must mount her own horse again, and follow us at a walk. If we find that things don't go well, we must halt in a wood somewhere, and ride only by night."
They cantered on now, and overtook the others just as they reached the farmhouse. The farmer was at his door, and looked a little surprised at seeing two of the officers of the Palace come up. He salaamed deeply.
"We have not come to requisition anything," Dick said, with a smile, as he saw that the farmer looked alarmed as well as surprised. "We have only come for the two horses that we have bought, for our servants, as we are going on a journey."
"Can I assist you in any way, my lords?"
"No, our men will saddle the horses," Dick said, and, dismounting, went into the stable with Ibrahim and Annie.
"You are not afraid of riding, I hope, Annie?" he said.
"I am not afraid of anything, Dick, so that I can but get away."
"We will go quietly at first, anyhow. Mind, as you mount, put your left foot in the stirrup. When you are seated, carry yourself as easily as you can. The pony looks quiet enough, but if, when we get fairly off, you find that you cannot sit comfortably, you must get up before me, and Ibrahim must lead your pony. When we are fairly on the road, I will fasten a bit of rope to your bridle to act as a leading rein, and you can ride by my side, unless we see people coming along; then you must drop behind, with Ibrahim."
"I won't give more trouble than I can help," she said.
Ibrahim had taken some rugs over with him, on the previous afternoon, which had been bought in case they should sleep out at night. When the horses were saddled, Dick rolled two of these up, strapped one on the high peak, and the other on the cantle of the saddle upon which the girl was to ride.
"That will wedge you in pretty tightly," he said.
"Now, Ibrahim, put the things into the saddlebag, and then we shall be ready."
When this was done, the two horses were led outside. The farmer had gone back into the house, and Dick, helping the girl into her seat, arranged the stirrups the right length for her.
"Now," he said, "you must keep your knees pressed against the roll of blankets in front, and hold on as well as you can with them; but the principal thing is for you to balance yourself with your body. Don't sit up stiffly, but as if you were in a chair.
"Now, we will start at a walk. Ibrahim will keep quite close to you, so as to be able to catch hold of your rein, should there be any occasion for him to do so."
Then, mounting, he and Surajah rode off at a walk, the others following a length or two behind them. Dick looked round, from time to time, and saw that Annie exhibited no signs of nervousness.
"I am quite comfortable," she said, in reply to one of his glances.
When they got into the road again, Dick said: "We will go at an easy canter now, Annie. If you feel as if you could not keep on, call out, and we will stop directly; but first come up between Surajah and myself, and we will take the leading reins, so that you will have nothing to attend to but holding on."
Two cords had been attached to the bridle, before setting out, and Surajah and Dick each taking one, they started again, the horses instinctively breaking into a canter, which was their usual pace. Annie at first grasped the strap of the rug in front of her, but as soon as she became accustomed to the motion, she let go. A small rug had been strapped over the saddle, before she mounted, and this afforded her a much better hold than she would have had of the leather; and as the pace of the horse was a gentle one, she found it much more easy to keep her seat than she had expected. Moreover, the fact that Dick and Surajah rode close by her side, and would be able to catch her, at once, if she swayed in the saddle, gave her confidence.
"It is much better than I thought it would be," she said. "It is quite a pleasant motion. I will go faster, if you like."
"No, there is no occasion for that," Dick replied. "This is the pace the horses are most accustomed to, and they will go on longer, at it, than at any other. There is no fear of pursuit, and we have all day before us."
After a quarter of a mile's riding, they came to a wood.
"We must turn in here," Dick said. "We are going treasure hunting. We hid those caskets, that were given us by the ladies, directly after we got them; and we are going to dig them up now, and take them with us."
They rode at a walk, now, till they came to a very large baobab tree, growing by the path they were following.
"Here we turn off."
"There is a man there," Surajah exclaimed, when they had ridden a few yards farther.
Dick checked his horse.
"It is Pertaub," he said, a moment later, and in a minute they were beside the Hindoo.
"I could not sleep, thinking of you, Sahib," the latter said, as they came up. "So I came across here, partly to help you dig up the caskets, and partly that I might see you, and assure myself that, so far, all had gone well."
"Thank you, Pertaub. You have, I see, brought a pickaxe. It will save us half an hour's work; and besides, I am glad to say goodbye again.
"All has gone well. This is the young lady."
"She is well disguised," Pertaub said, bowing his head to Annie. "She looks so like a boy that, even now you tell me, I can scarce believe she is a white girl. Truly you can go on without fear that anyone will suspect her."
Leading the way to the spot where the caskets had been buried, Dick looked on while Surajah and Ibrahim dug them up. They were then wrapped up in rugs, and strapped securely behind their owners' saddles. Then, after a warm adieu to the kind old man, they turned their horses' heads, and rode back out of the woods.
After riding for three hours at a canter, Dick saw that, although Annie still spoke cheerfully, her strength was failing her, and on arriving at a wood, he said: "We will wait here till the heat of the sun has abated. We have done very well, and the horses, as well as ourselves, will be glad of a few hours' rest."
He alighted from the saddle, gave his horse to Ibrahim, and then lifted Annie from her seat. As he set her down on her feet, and loosed his hold of her, she slipped down on to the ground. Dick and Surajah at once raised her, and placed her so that, as she sat, she could lean against a tree.
Here Dick supported her, while Surajah ran and fetched his water bottle. Annie drank a little, and then said, with a nervous laugh: "It is very silly of me. But I feel better now. My legs seemed to give way, altogether."
"It was not silly at all," Dick said. "You have held on most bravely. I can tell you there are not many girls who would have ridden four or five and twenty miles, the first time they sat on a horse. Why, I can tell you the first time I mounted, I did not do a quarter as much, and I was so stiff I could hardly walk, when I got down. I should have stopped before, but you kept talking so cheerfully that, it seemed to me, you could not be anything like as tired as I was, then. I was a brute not to have known that you must be thoroughly done up, although you did not say so.
"We have got some food with us. Do you think you could eat, a little?"
She shook her head.
"Not just yet."
"All right. I have brought a couple of bottles of wine I got at one of the traders' stores, yesterday. You must take a sip of that, and then we will leave you to yourself for a bit, and you must lie down and have a good nap."
Dick took a bottle from his holster, opened it, and gave her some in a tin cup. Then one of the rugs was spread on the ground, with another one rolled up as a pillow, and then they led the horses farther into the wood, leaving Annie to herself.
"She won't be able to ride again, tonight," Surajah said, as they sat down, while Ibrahim took out the provisions that he had, on the previous day, carried across to the farm.
"No, I must carry her before me. We will shift my saddle a little farther back, and strap a couple of rugs in front of it, so as to make a comfortable seat for her. There is no doubt she will not be able to ride again, by herself. I am sure that, after my first day's riding, I could not have gone on again for anything.
"We won't start until it begins to get dusk. Of course, she ought to have a good twenty-four hours' rest, before she goes on, but we dare not risk that. I don't think there is any chance of pursuit for days; or, indeed, of any pursuit at all, for by the time they begin to suspect that we have really deserted, they will know that we have had time to get to the frontier. Still, I don't want to run the slightest risk, and at any rate, if we have to halt, it would be better to do so fifty miles farther on than here.
"When we mount again, we will put the saddlebags from my horse on to hers, and Ibrahim must lead it. Her weight won't make much difference to my horse, and if I find it tiring, I will change with you. You may as well put your saddlebags on to her horse, also."
"It would be better, would it not," Surajah said, "if you change to her horse, which will have carried nothing?"
"Yes, of course that would be best, so you had better not shift your saddlebags."
After they had had their meal, they stretched themselves out for a sleep, and when they woke it was already becoming dusk. The horses had had a good feed, and were now given a drink of water, from the skin. They were then saddled again, the blankets carefully arranged for Annie's use, and then they went back to the place where she was lying, still asleep.
"Put the provisions into the wallet again, Ibrahim. We will see if we can get her up without waking her. She is so dead beat that, perhaps, we may do so. I don't suppose she would be able to eat anything, if we woke her.
"I had better mount first. Then you, Surajah, can lift her up to me. I can stoop down, and take her from your arms, and put her in front of me. She is no weight to speak of."
Very gently, Surajah put his arms under the sleeping girl, and lifted her.
"That is right," Dick said, as he placed her on the blankets before him, and held her with his right arm, with her head against his shoulder. "She is dead asleep."
The blankets were strapped on to the horses again, the others mounted, and they started, at a walk, out of the wood. As soon as they were on the road, the horses broke into a canter again. Annie moaned uneasily, but did not open her eyes. Dick drew her still more closely to him.
"She will do now, Surajah," he said, in a low voice. "I hope that she will sleep till morning."
Half an hour later, they rode through Sultanpetta. It was quite dark now, and although there were people in the streets, Dick knew that at the rate they were riding, in the darkness, the fact that he was carrying a lad in front of him would scarce be noticed. Nor would it be of any consequence if it were, as, even if they met any officer who should stop and question them, it would suffice to say that the lad had been taken ill; and that, their business being urgent, they were taking him on with them.
Four hours later they passed through Conkanelly, and crossed the bridge over a branch of the Cauvery. Here Dick felt that his horse was flagging. Halting, he dismounted, and lifted Annie down. This time the movement woke her; she gave a little cry.
"Where am I?" she asked.
"You are quite safe, child," Dick said cheerfully. "Just lie quiet in my arms. We have come five hours' journey, and as my horse is getting tired, I am changing to yours. Ibrahim is shifting the rugs that you have been sitting on."
"I can go on by myself," she said, making a little struggle to get down.
"You must be good, and do what you are told," he said, with a laugh. "Remember that you are a slave, and I am your master, at present."
She said nothing more until they were seated afresh, and had got into motion.
"Oh, you are good, Dick!" she sighed softly. "Only to think of your carrying me like this, for five hours, without waking me!"
"Well, it was much better for us both that you should sleep," he said, "and it is the horse that is carrying you, not I. I have been very comfortable, I can assure you.
"We shall go on for another four hours. After that we shall hide up in a wood, and sleep till the afternoon. Then it will depend upon you. If you can sit your horse, we shall ride on through Anicull. If not, we must wait till it gets dark again, and then go on as we are now. Are you comfortable, child?"
"Very comfortable, Dick."
They were talking in English now, for the first time since they started.
"I have almost forgotten how to talk English," she said. "We white girls always used to talk it, when we were together, so as not to forget it; and since the last one went, three years ago, I have always talked it to myself, for a bit, before going to sleep, so as to keep it up; but it does not come anything like so easy as the other. Still, I like talking it to you. It almost seems as if I were at home again. You see, I have never heard a man talk English, since I was carried away. Even now, I can hardly believe this is not a happy dream, and that I shall not wake up, presently, and find myself a slave girl in the harem."
"It is pleasant to me to talk English, too," Dick said, "though it is only a few months since I last spoke it. Now, the best thing you can do is to try and get off to sleep again. When we stop you shall have breakfast. I am sure you must want something. You have had nothing since you ate a mouthful or two, in my room, before starting."
"Oh, I have slept hours and hours!" she said. "I shall not want to sleep any more."
However, before long the easy motion lulled her off again, and she did not wake until, at about four o'clock in the morning, they entered a wood that was, as Dick supposed, some three or four miles from Anicull.
"Well, how do you feel now?" Dick asked, as he set her on her feet.
"I feel stiff," she said; "but that will soon wear off, when I have run about a little. Oh, how tired you must be, after carrying me all these hours!"
"There has not been much to hold," Dick said with a laugh, "especially since we started the last time. Before that, you were so dead asleep that I did have to hold you; but, you see, you nestled up more comfortably when we changed horses, and needed very little support since then."
"Now, what can I do?" she asked, with a little laugh. "Please order me to do something. I am your slave, you know, and I want to be helping you."
"Well, then, I command you to aid me to gather some sticks for a fire. We have nothing to cook, but it will be cheerful, and the air is cool."
They picked up sticks, while Surajah and Ibrahim loosened the girths of the horses, took off their bridles, and poured out another feed from the bag of grain they had brought with them. In a few minutes a fire was blazing, and the wallet of provisions brought out.
"I wish I had a cup of coffee to offer you, Annie," Dick said, as he poured her out some wine and water, "but we must wait, for that, until we get down to Tripataly."
"I have forgotten all about coffee, Dick, and what it tastes like. The white girls used to talk about it, and say how they longed for a cup. It seems, to me, funny to drink anything hot. I have never tasted anything but water, that I can remember, until you gave me that wine yesterday."
"It is very nice, and very refreshing. There is another drink that is coming into fashion. It is called tea. I have tasted it a few times, but I don't like it as well as coffee, and it is much more expensive."
"The sultan says that all the English get drunk, and there used to be pictures of them on the walls. They used to make me so angry."
"I don't say that no English get drunk, Annie, because there is no doubt that some do. But it is very far from being true of the great proportion of them. Tippoo only says it to excite the people against us, because, now that he has made them all Mohammedans, they cannot drink wine--at any rate, openly. When I bought these two bottles, the trader made a great mystery over it, and if I had not given him a sign he understood, and which made him believe that I was a Hindoo and not a Mussulman, he would not have admitted that he kept it at all. He did say so, at first, for I have no doubt he thought that, as I was an officer of the Palace, it was a snare, and that if he had admitted he had wine I should have reported him, and it would have served as an excuse for his being fined, and perhaps having all his goods confiscated. When I made the sign that an old Hindoo had taught me, his manner changed directly, and he took me to the back of his little shop, and produced the wine. I told him I wanted it for medicine, and that was quite true, for I thought it was a drug you were very likely to need, on your journey."
"How much farther have we to ride?" she asked, after a pause.
"Only about thirty-five miles--that is to say, it is only that distance to the frontier. There is a road that is rather more direct, but it passes through Oussoor, a large town, which we had better avoid. It is not more than fifty miles from the frontier to Tripataly, but once across the line we can take matters easily, and stop whenever you get tired."
"It will be all very strange to me, Dick. I sha'n't mind it, as long as you are with me, but it will be dreadful when you go. I am afraid your mother won't like me. You see, I know nothing of English ways, and I am oh! so ignorant. I cannot even read--at least, very little. One of the girls used to teach me, from a book she had when she was carried off. It was a Bible--she used to tell me stories out of it. But one day they found it, and she was beaten, very much, for venturing to have it. I am afraid I have quite forgotten even my letters; but she and the other girls used to teach me about religion, and told me I must never forget that I was a Christian, whatever they might do to me, and I was to say my prayers every night after I lay down, and every morning before I got up. Of course, I have always done it."
"You need not be afraid of my mother, Annie. She is very kind, and I am sure she will take to you very much, and will be very glad that I have brought you to Tripataly; for, you see, she has no girls of her own. She will teach you to read and write, and if we go back to England, I dare say you will go to school for a time, so as to learn things like other girls."
"I can work very nicely," she said. "The ladies of the harem all used to say that."
"Well, you will find that very useful, no doubt."
"And what else is there to learn?" she asked.
"No end of things, Annie--at least, there are no end of things for boys to learn. I do not know anything about girls. But, of course, you will have to get to know something of history and geography."
"What is geography, Dick?"
"Well, geography is where countries and places are. For instance, you know something of the geography of India, without ever having learnt it. You know that Madras and the Carnatic lie to the east, and Travancore to the southwest, and Malabar to the west, and the Mahratta country and the Nizam's dominions to the north. Well, that is the geography of this part of the country--that and the names of the towns and rivers. In the same way, there are a lot of nations in Europe, and you want to know all about them, and where they lie with respect to each other, and the names of their principal towns. Then there are America, and Africa, and Asia, and all the countries in them. If you don't know about these things, you can't follow what people are talking about."
"And did you like learning geography, Dick?" she asked, a little anxiously.
"Well no, I can't say that I did, Annie. I think I used to hate geography. It was very hard to remember where all the places were, and what rivers they stood on. I know very little about it now, except the principal towns and places. But then, I never was very fond of learning anything. I was a very stupid boy, at school."
"Oh, I am sure you could not have been that, Dick," she said confidently.
"I was indeed, Annie. I think the only thing I could do well was fighting. I was a beggar to fight--not because I used to quarrel with fellows, but because it made me hard and tough, and my mother thought that it would make me more fit to carry out this search for my father."
"What did you fight with--swords?" Annie asked.
Dick laughed.
"No, no, Annie, when we quarrel in England we fight with our fists."
"What is a fist? I never heard of that weapon."
"That is a fist, Annie. You see, it is hard enough to knock a fellow down, though it does not very often do that; but it hurts him a bit, without doing him any harm, except that it may black his eyes or puff up his face for a day or two--and no boy minds that. It accustoms one to bear pain, and is a splendid thing for teaching a boy to keep his temper, and I believe it is one reason why the English make such good soldiers. It is a sort of science, you see, and one learns it just as people here learn to be good swordsmen. I had lessons, when I was twelve years old, from a little man who used to be a champion lightweight--that is, a man of not more than a certain weight."
Annie looked doubtful for a minute, and then exclaimed: "Ah, yes, I understand now. That is how it is you came to our help so quickly and bravely, when the tiger burst in."
"I daresay it had something to do with it," Dick said, with a smile. "There is no doubt that boxing, as we call it, does make you quick. There is not much time to waste in thinking how you are to stop a blow, and to return it at the same moment. One gets into the habit of deciding at once what is the best thing to be done; and I have no doubt that I should not have seen, at once, that one must cut through the netting, run to the window, jump on to Surajah's shoulders, and fire at the tiger, unless I had been sharpened up by boxing. I only say I suppose that, because there were, no doubt, hundreds of men looking on who had pluck enough to face the tiger, and who would have gladly done the thing that we did, if the idea had occurred to them. The idea did not occur to them, you see, and I have no doubt that it was just owing to that boxing that I thought of it. So you see, Annie, it was, in a way, the fights I had with boys at Shadwell--which is the part of London where I lived--that saved you, and perhaps half a dozen ladies of the sultan's harem, from being killed by that tiger.
"Now, I should advise you to walk about the wood for at least an hour, to get rid of your stiffness. The longer you walk, the better. When you have tired yourself, come back here. By that time, I daresay you will be ready for another sleep. We will start about three o'clock, and shall cross the frontier before it gets quite dark. Once across, we can camp comfortably where we like, or put up at a village, if we should light upon one.
"I should not go far away from here," he went on, as the girl at once rose and prepared to start. "Very likely the wood may get thicker, farther in, and you might lose your way, or come across a snake; so I should not go far out of sight. The great thing is to keep moving. It is getting broad daylight, now."
As soon as Annie had started, Dick lay down.
"I feel dog tired, Surajah. This right arm of mine is so stiff that I can hardly lift it. I did not feel it at the time, and her weight was nothing, but I certainly feel it now."
"You have a good sleep, Dick. Ibrahim and I will keep watch, by turns."
"I don't think there is any occasion for that," Dick said. "No one is likely to come into the wood."
"Not very likely," Surajah agreed; "but a body of travellers might turn in here, for a halt in the middle of the day, and it would look strange were they to find two of the Palace officers, and their attendants, all fast asleep."
"They would only think we came in for a rest, a short time before they did," Dick said drowsily. "Still, if you don't mind, perhaps it would be best."
In two minutes, Dick was sound asleep. " 'Now, Ibrahim, you lie down," Surajah said. "I will call you in three hours."
In half an hour Annie returned. She looked pitifully at Dick, and then seated herself by Surajah.
"He must be tired," she said. "It was too bad of me, letting him carry me like that all night. I thought so, over and over again, when he believed I was fast asleep, but I knew that it was of no use asking him to let me ride for a bit.
"You don't mind my sitting here for a little, do you? I am going away again, presently. I only came back, so soon, because I thought he might wonder what had become of me, if I did not. I could have gone on walking for a long time. It was very hard work at first, for my back ached dreadfully, and every step hurt me so, it was as much as I could do to keep on walking; but gradually it got better, and at last I had a long run, and after that I scarcely felt it.
"How long have you known him, Surajah?" and she nodded towards Dick.
"It is about two years and a half since he came to Tripataly, and I have seen a great deal of him, ever since. I love him very much. He is always the same. He never seems to get angry, and is kind to everyone."
"Did he fight when he was with the army?"
"Not much. He was one of the general's own officers, and used to ride with the others behind him. He fought in the battle before Seringapatam, for the general and every one else had to fight, then."
"How is it you come to be always with him?" she asked.
"It first began when we went out on a scouting expedition together, before the English army went up the ghauts. We volunteered to find out, if we could, which way the sultan's army was going. We went through a good deal of danger together, and some hard fighting, and the Sahib was pleased with me; and since then we have always been together."
"Tell me about that, Surajah?"
Surajah related the story of their capture and escape, of their making their way through the fort, and the subsequent pursuit, and their defence of the ruined hut. Annie listened almost breathlessly.
"How I should like to have been with you," she said, when he finished. "At least, I think I should have liked it. I should have been dreadfully in the way, but I could have sat down in the hut and loaded the guns, while you were both fighting. You could have shown me how to do it. How brave of you both to have fought fifty or sixty men!"
"It was not so very brave," Surajah said. "We knew we should be killed, if they took us. There is nothing brave in doing your best, when you know that. But it was not so much the fighting as arranging things, and he did all that, and I only carried out his orders. He always seemed to know exactly what was best to be done, and it was entirely his doing, our getting through the fort, and taking to the hut, and making the loopholes, and blocking up the windows; just as it was his doing, entirely, that we killed that tiger. Whatever he says is sure to be right, and when he tells me to do a thing I do it directly, for I trust him entirely, and there is no need for me to think at all. If he had told me to go up to the sultan and shoot him, in the middle of his officers, I should have done it, though they would have cut me in pieces a minute afterwards."
"I will go away again, now," Annie said, getting up. "He told me to keep on walking about, and he would not like it if he were to wake up and find me sitting here."
And she got up and strolled away again. By the time she returned, Surajah had lain down to sleep, and Ibrahim was on watch. Annie was, by this time, tired enough to be ready for sleep again, and, wrapping herself in a rug, she lay down at a short distance from the others.
It was two o'clock when she awoke, and she sprang to her feet as she saw Dick and Surajah standing by the fire, talking.
"I was going to wake you soon," Dick said, as she joined them, "for we must have another meal before we start. I hope you feel all the better, after your walk and sleep?"
"Ever so much better. I scarcely feel stiff at all, and shall be ready to ride, as soon as you like. How do you feel, Dick?"
"Oh, I am all right, Annie. I was all right before, though I did feel I wanted a sleep badly; and you see I have been having a long one, for I only woke up ten minutes ago. I own, though, that I should like a good wash. I don't suppose I can look dirty through this stain, but I certainly feel so."
"There is a pool," she said, "a few hundred yards away there, on the right. I found it the second time I went away, and I did enjoy a wash."
"I thought you were looking wonderfully tidy," Dick said, smiling. "Well, I will go there at once. I shall feel a new man, after a bath."
"I will come with you," Surajah said--for he had learned to speak a good deal of English, during his companionship with Dick.
They returned in half an hour. Ibrahim had warmed up some of the chupatties, over the ashes, and they all thoroughly enjoyed their meal. The horses were saddled, and were taken to the pool for a good drink.
Then Annie was helped into her saddle, and they started again. They rode at a canter to Anicull, their badges of office securing them from any questioning from the soldiers at the guard houses, when they entered and left the town.
"I don't know whether there is any post established at the frontier," Dick said, as Annie, who had ridden behind with Ibrahim as they passed through the town, took her place again between him and Surajah. "I have no fear that they will be erecting a fort, for after our capturing Bangalore and the hill fortresses, they will know very well that nothing they could build on the flat would be of the slightest use in stopping an army advancing by this line. Still, there may be a guard placed there.
"How do you think we had better get past, Surajah? We have still got the order to the governors of forts, and it is likely enough that the officer in charge may not be able to read. Very few of those we met before were able to do so. The sight of the sultan's seal at the bottom was quite enough for them, and I should think it would suffice to pass us here. Still, it would look suspicious, our leaving the the country altogether, and we must give some explanation if they ask us."
"I might say that we are charged with a mission to the English commander at Kistnagherry."
"That might do, Surajah. The fort is only eight or ten miles on the other side of the frontier, and we might very well be sent on some message. A complaint of some of the villagers, that their rights have not been respected as agreed by the treaty, or that they have been robbed by men from this side of the frontier--there are plenty of things about which Tippoo might be sending a message to Kistnagherry. The worst of it is that Tippoo has not given us a mission, and I do hate your having to say what is not true."
Surajah was not so particular, and he replied: "Well, he has given us a mission to visit the hill forts, and as Kistnagherry is a hill fort, it is not a very great stretch to include it."
Dick laughed.
"That is ingenious, Surajah. Anyhow, I don't see any better excuse for crossing the frontier, and so we must make the best of it; but I hope we sha'n't be asked at all."
"I think, if I say we are going to Kistnagherry, and then show Tippoo's order and seal, that will be sufficient; and the story will be quite true, for we shall go by Kistnagherry, as the road passes close to the fortress."
"Yes, that will be quite true, Surajah, and the officers are not likely to ask any further questions.
"How are you getting on, Annie?"
"Oh, much better than I did yesterday," she said. "I would much rather not halt, until we are across the frontier. I am getting accustomed to the motion now, and am not at all afraid of falling off. I dare say I shall be rather stiff, when we halt, but that will not matter, then."
The sun was just setting when they arrived at a newly-erected house, round which ten or twelve tents were arranged. An officer came out of the house as they approached. He salaamed on seeing two officials of the Palace, wearing the emblems of the rank of colonels. Surajah returned the usual Moslem salutation.
"We are going to Kistnagherry," he said. "Here is the sultan's order."
The officer glanced at the seal, placed it to his forehead, and then stood aside.
"Will you return tonight, my lord? I ask that I may give orders to the sentries."
"No; there is no chance of our being able to be back before morning."
He touched his horse, and then trotted on again. Not a word was spoken, until they had gone a few hundred yards, and then Dick checked his horse, and, as Annie came alongside, held out his hand and said: "Thank God, Annie, that we have got you safely back onto English territory."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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17
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: Back At Tripataly.
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Annie's lips moved, as Dick announced that they had crossed the Mysore boundary, but no sound came from them. He saw her eyes close, and she reeled in the saddle.
"Hold her, Surajah," Dick exclaimed, "or she will fall."
Leaning over, Surajah caught her by the shoulder; and Dick, leaping to the ground, stopped her horse, and, lifting her from the saddle, seated her upon a bank and supported her.
"Some water, Surajah!" he exclaimed.
Surajah poured a little water from the skin into the hollow of Dick's hand, and the latter sprinkled the girl's face with it.
"I have not fainted," she murmured, opening her eyes, "but I turned giddy. I shall be better, directly."
"Drink a little wine," Dick said.
Surajah poured some into a cup, but with an effort she sat up, and pushed it from her.
"There is nothing the matter," she said. "Only, only" and she burst suddenly into a passion of sobbing.
The spirit that she had shown, so long as there was danger, had deserted her now that the peril had passed, and she was safe.
Dick looked at her, helplessly. A girl in tears was a creature wholly beyond his experience, and he had no idea what he ought to do in such an emergency. He therefore adopted what was, doubtless, the best course, had he but known it, of letting her alone. After a time, the violence of her crying abated, and only short sobs broke from her, as she sat with her face hidden in her hands.
"That is right, Annie," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "It is quite natural for you to cry, after the excitement and fatigue you have gone through. You have been very brave, and have not said a word of complaint today about your fatigue, although you must be desperately tired. Now, try and pull yourself together. It is getting dark already, and we ought to be moving on to Ryacotta, which cannot be much more than a mile away. You shall ride in front of me, when we get there."
"I would rather not," she said, getting up with a painful effort. "I am awfully foolish, and I am so sorry that I broke down, but I felt so delighted that I could not help it. You said we could camp, safely, when we once got across the frontier. Would you mind doing so? For I don't think I could go much farther."
"Certainly we can camp," Dick said cheerfully. "But we must get a little bit farther from that post we passed. If they were to see a fire, here, they would be sure to suspect something. I see a clump of trees a quarter of a mile on. We can make our camp there, and I would rather do that, myself, than go on to Ryacotta, where our appearance in the Mysore uniform would excite a stir, and we should have no end of questions to answer.
"But I am sure that you are not fit to walk, even that distance. Now, I will lift you on my saddle, and you can sit sideways. There, I will walk by your side, and you can put your hand to my shoulder to steady yourself. Surajah can lead your horse and his own, and Ibrahim can take mine."
In this way they performed the journey to the trees, and then halted. Annie was lifted down, and laid on a rug. Dick insisted on her drinking some wine, and then, covering her with another rug, they left her and lighted a fire, fifty yards away.
"Look here, Ibrahim, put that whole chicken into the pan, cover it with water, and let it stew. Don't let it boil fast, but just simmer until it falls all to pieces. Then I will wake her, if she has gone to sleep, and make her drink the broth. It will do her ever so much more good than wine, and she will be all right in the morning, though no doubt she will be desperately stiff again. Still, it has not been a longer ride than she had yesterday. I expect it is the excitement, more than the fatigue, that has upset her. Tomorrow she must ride in front of me, again."
An hour and a half later, Dick went across with the cup full of strong broth.
"Are you asleep, Annie?" he said, when he reached her side.
"No, I am not asleep. There is so much to think of, and it is such happiness to know that I am free, that I feel quite wide awake. Besides, you know, I have been asleep for hours today, and I slept all night, as I was riding before you."
"Then sit up, and drink this hot broth. It will do you good. And after that, I hope you will go off. You won't be fit for anything, tomorrow, if you don't have a good night. You will have plenty of time to think, as we ride along."
The girl did as she was told.
"It is very nice," she said, as she handed the cup back to him. "Oh, Dick, I do hope that we shall find my father and mother. I don't want to, for some things, but I do for others, and most of all that they may thank you for all your goodness to me, which I shall never be able to do, myself."
"Nonsense, child!" he said cheerfully. "I have done what every one would do, if they found a little countrywoman in distress. I should have gone away from Seringapatam anyhow, if I had not met you, and getting you down is a good excuse for me to go back and spend a fortnight with my mother.
"Now get off to sleep, as quickly as you can. We will see what we can do to make things comfortable for your ride, tomorrow."
It was late when Annie awoke. The sun was some distance above the horizon, and she saw her companions occupied with the horses. In a few minutes she joined them.
"I am ashamed at sleeping so long," she said.
"We were glad to find that you did," Dick replied. "If you went to sleep soon after I brought you the broth, you have had ten hours of it, and ought to feel all the better."
"I do," she said. "I am very stiff, but not so stiff as I was yesterday morning. How you are both altered!"
"Yes. It would never have done to have gone on in our gay dresses, and Tippoo's badges. These are the clothes we came up in, and we shall attract no attention whatever. You won't have to ride far, today. It will be as well for you to keep to your own horse, until we have passed through Ryacotta, which is not much more than half a mile away. After that, you must sit on this pad I have fastened behind my saddle. You can sit sideways, you know, and put your arm around me, just as ladies used to ride in England, a couple of hundred years ago."
As soon as they had eaten something they started, and rode at a good pace to the little town. People looked at them somewhat curiously as they passed through the street, wondering that they should have come from Mysore; but as they did not halt, no one asked any questions. The population were, at present, a good deal divided. The great majority by no means regretted their change of masters. Some of the Mohammedans had left, when the place was taken over by the English, and had crossed into Mysore. Others had remained, and hoped that, ere long, Tippoo would drive back the British, and regain his former dominions.
Before mounting, the rich housings and the silver work on the bridles had been removed, and hidden among the rugs, and there was nothing beyond the excellence of two of the horses, and the direction from which they came, to attract attention.
When well beyond the town, they halted. The saddlebags were all packed upon Annie's horse. Dick lifted the girl on to the pad behind his saddle, and then mounted.
"Now hold tight by me," he said, "and mind, whenever you are tired, we will halt for an hour's rest. We will not go more than twenty miles today, and then it will only be as much more down to Tripataly, tomorrow. We will walk for a bit, until you get quite accustomed to your seat."
After a while, the horses broke into a gentle canter. For a time, Annie felt very doubtful as to whether she could retain her seat, and so held tight with one arm to Dick, while with the other hand she kept a firm hold of the crupper. Presently, however, she was able to release her hold of the latter, and it was not long before she was able, honestly, to assure Dick that she felt quite comfortable, and had no fear of falling off.
In two hours they passed near the hill on which stood the fortress of Kistnagherry, which had successfully resisted the attack of the English, but above which now flew the British flag. Skirting round the foot, they came, in the course of an hour and a half's ride, on to the direct road which they had left at Anicull, in order to avoid passing through the town of Oussoor. Here they came upon a large village, and Dick found no difficulty in hiring a light native cart to take Annie, who was, as he felt by the relaxation of her hold, unable to proceed farther on horseback, or continue straight through to Tripataly.
A thick layer of straw was placed at the bottom of the cart, a couple of rugs spread over it, and on this Annie was enabled to lie down at her ease. The horses were fed and watered, and had an hour's rest, and then they started for the last twenty miles of their journey.
Annie had, while the horses were resting, a chat with a native woman, and had gone into her house with her. When they were ready for the start, she returned, dressed in the costume she had worn in the Palace. It had originally been intended to get rid of the clothes, after starting, but Annie had asked for them to be taken on.
"I can change again, before I get to Tripataly," she said. "I should not like to appear before your mother, for the first time, dressed as a boy."
And Dick had at once fallen in with her wishes.
The turban was gone, and her head was covered in the fashion of native women, with a long cotton cloth of a deep red colour.
Where the road was good, the cart proceeded at a fair pace, but in the pass down the ghauts they could go only at a walk, and the sun had set before they reached Tripataly. Dick, seeing that Annie was growing very nervous, as they neared their destination, had ridden all the way by the side of the cart, chatting cheerfully with her.
"Why, Annie," he said, "you look as solemn as if you were just going into slavery, instead of having escaped from it."
"It is not that I feel solemn, Dick. It is that everything is so new and strange. Of course, after your saving my life, I have never felt that you were a stranger, and as long as there were only you and Surajah, I did not mind, and I have felt quite at home with you. But now that I am going to a new place, where I don't know anyone, I can't help feeling desolate."
"You will feel quite as much at home with them, in twenty-four hours, as you have done with me, Annie. You are tired now, and quite worn out with your journey, and so you take a gloomy view of things. I will guarantee that, before I go away again, you will be good friends with everyone, and will wonder how you could have thought it to be anything dreadful to come among them."
When they got within a mile of Tripataly, Dick said: "Now I will ride on ahead, Annie, and prepare my mother for your coming. It will be pleasant to have no questions or explanations when you arrive, and I am sure she will carry you straight off to bed, and keep you there, until you have quite got over the effects of your journey."
He did not wait to hear Annie's faint protest against his leaving her, but telling Surajah to take his place beside the cart, and to keep talking to the girl, he galloped on ahead. He sprang from his horse in the courtyard, threw the reins to a servant, and ran in. The party had just sat down to their evening meal, and as he entered he was greeted by exclamations of astonishment and welcome.
His mother had received two letters, sent through Pertaub by traders going down from Seringapatam. In these he had told her, first, of his arrival and of the adventure with the tiger, and of his obtaining the post in the Palace; and in the second of the non-success that had attended his visits to the hill forts. He had told her that he should probably leave Seringapatam shortly, and continue the search, but that she must not anticipate any result, for a long time.
"Well, Mother," he said, after the first embrace and greetings were over, "I have left Tippoo's service, you see, and am no longer a colonel, or an officer of the Palace. I have come down to spend a fortnight with you, before I set out again on my travels."
"Has Surajah come back with you, Dick?" the Rajah asked.
"Yes. He will be here in a few minutes, with a cart. That is one of the reasons why I came down here. I found, among the slaves of the harem, a white girl about fourteen years old. She is the daughter of a British officer named Mansfield, and was carried away from her parents, eight years ago. She was the only white captive left in the Palace. There have been other girls, in a similar position, but they have all, at about fourteen or fifteen, been given by Tippoo to his officers; as would have been her fate, before long, so I determined to carry her off with me, and bring her to you, until we could find her parents. She is a very plucky girl, and, although she had never been on a horse before, rode all the way down, until we got this side of Kistnagherry. But as you may imagine, the poor little thing is completely knocked up, so we brought her down from there in a cart.
"It is something, Mother, to have saved one captive from Tippoo's grasp, even though it is not the dear one that I was looking for; and I promised that you would be a mother to her, until we could restore her to her friends."
"Certainly I will, Dick," Mrs. Holland said warmly.
"Will you tell the girls, Gholla," she said to her sister-in-law, "to have a bed made up for her, in my room?"
"I will do so at once," the ranee said. "Poor little thing, she must have had a journey, indeed."
"She will be here directly, Mother," Dick said, as his aunt gave the necessary directions for the bed to be prepared, and a dish of rice and strong gravy. "She is very nervous, and I am sure it will be best if you will meet her, when she arrives, and take her straight to her room."
"That is what I was going to do, Dick," his mother said, with a smile. "Well, I will go down with you, at once."
Two or three minutes later, the cart entered the courtyard. Mrs. Holland was on the steps. Dick ran down, and helped Annie from the cart. The girl was trembling violently.
"Don't be afraid, Annie," Dick whispered, as he lifted her down. "Here is my mother, waiting to receive you.
"This is the young lady," he went on cheerfully, as he turned to his mother. "I promised her a warm welcome, in your name."
Mrs. Holland had already come down the steps, and as the girl turned towards her, she took her in her arms, and kissed her in motherly fashion.
"Welcome, indeed," she said. "I will be a mother to you, poor child, till I can hand you over to your own. I thank God for sending you to me. It will be a comfort to me to know that, even if my son should never bring my husband back to me, he has at least succeeded in rescuing one victim from Tippoo, and in making one family happy."
The girl clung to her, crying softly.
"Oh, how good you all are!" she sobbed. "It seems too much happiness to be true."
"It is quite true, dear. Come with me. We will go up the private stairs, and I will put you straight to bed in my room, and no one else shall see you, or question you, until you are quite recovered from your fatigue."
"I am afraid," Annie began faintly.
She did not need to say more. Mrs. Holland interrupted her.
"Dick, you must lift her up, and carry her into my room. Poor child, she is utterly exhausted, and no wonder."
A couple of minutes later, Dick returned to the dining room. He had run down, first, to tell Surajah to come up with him, but found that he had already gone to his father's apartments.
"Well, Dick," the Rajah said, as he entered, "I was prepared, after hearing of that tiger adventure, and of you and Surajah being colonels in Tippoo's household, for almost anything; but I certainly never dreamt of your returning here with an English girl."
"I suppose not, Uncle. Such a thing certainly never entered into my calculations. I did not even know there was a white girl in the Palace, until one day she stopped me, as I was passing along the corridor near the harem, to thank me for saving her life--for it was this girl that the tiger had struck down, and was standing upon, when I fired at him. Of course, she had no idea that I was English. We only said a few words then, for if I had been seen talking to a slave girl belonging to the harem, I might have got into a scrape. However, I saw her afterwards, and she told me about herself, and how she was afraid that she would be given away to one of Tippoo's officers. Of course, I could not leave her to such a fate as that.
"There was really no difficulty in getting her away. She was dressed as a boy, and only had to ride, with our servant, after us. We had arranged so that our absence would not be noticed, until we had been away for at least twenty-four hours, and of course, as officers of the Palace, no one questioned us on the journey, so that it is a very simple affair altogether, and the only difficulty there was, rose from her being completely tired out and exhausted by the journey, as she was utterly unaccustomed to travelling. I had to carry her one night, in front of me on my saddle, for she was scarce able to stand."
"I am not surprised at that. A journey of a hundred and fifty miles, to anyone who has never been on horseback, would be a terrible trial, especially to a young girl. I really wonder that she did not break down altogether. Why, you can remember how stiff you were, yourself, the first day or two you were here, and that after riding only an hour or two."
"I know, Uncle, and I should not have been in the least surprised, if she had collapsed. I talked it over with Surajah, and we agreed that, if she could not go on, we must hire a vehicle of some sort, and let her travel, every day, in front of us with Ibrahim, and that if it delayed us so much that there was any possibility of our being overtaken, we would have put on our peasant's dresses, got rid of our horses, and have gone forward on foot.
"However, she kept up wonderfully well, and always made the best of things."
"We won't ask you to tell us anything more, Dick, till your mother joins us, or you will have to go over the story twice."
"No, Uncle; and I can assure you I don't want to tell the story until I have had my supper, for our meals have not been very comfortable on the road, and I have not eaten anything since early this morning."
"What is Tippoo doing, Dick?"
"Well, as far as I can see, Uncle, he is preparing for war again. He is strengthening all his forts, building fresh defences to Seringapatam, and drilling numbers of fresh troops."
"The English general made a great mistake, in not finishing with him when he was there. We ought to have taken the city, sent Tippoo down a prisoner to Madras, and there tried him for the murder of scores of Englishmen, and hung him over the ramparts. We shall have all our work to do over again, in another four or five years. However, it will not be such a difficult business as it was last time, now that we have the passes in our hands."
"There is no doubt, Uncle, that a considerable part of the population will be heartily glad when Tippoo's power is at an end. You see, he and Hyder were both usurpers, and had no more right to the throne than you had."
"Quite so, Dick, and that makes our letting him off, when we could have taken the capital easily, all the more foolish. If he had been the lawful ruler of Mysore, it might not have been good policy to push him too hard, for he would have had sympathy from all the native princes of India. But, as being only the son of an adventurer, who had deposed and ill-treated the lawful ruler of Mysore, it would seem to them but a mere act of justice, if the English had dethroned him and punished him--provided, of course, they put a native prince on the throne, and did not annex all his dominions.
"It has all got to come some day. I can see that, in time, the English will be the rulers of all India, but at present they are not strong enough to face a general coalition of the native states against them; and any very high-handed action, in Mysore, might well alarm the native princes, throughout India, into laying aside their quarrels with each other, and combining in an attempt to drive them out."
Just as they had finished their meal, Mrs. Holland entered.
"The poor child is asleep," she said. "She wanted to talk at first, and to tell me how grateful she was to you, Dick; but of course I insisted on her being quiet, and said that she should tell me all about it, in the morning. She ate a few mouthfuls of the rice, and not long after she lay down, she fell asleep. I have left Sundra sitting there, in case she should wake up again, but I don't think it is likely that she will do so.
"Now, Dick, you must tell us all about it."
Dick was not a great hand at writing letters, so he had not entered, with any fullness, into the details of what he was doing, the principal point being to let his mother know that he was alive and well.
"Before he begins," the Rajah said, "I will send for Rajbullub and Surajah. Master Dick is rather fond of cutting his stories short, and we must have Surajah here to fill up details."
Surajah and his father soon appeared. The former was warmly greeted by the Rajah, and when they had seated themselves on a divan, Dick proceeded to tell the story. He was not interrupted, until he came to the incident of the killing of the tiger, and here Surajah was called upon to supplement the story, which he did, doing full credit to the quickness with which Dick had, without a moment's loss of time, cut the netting and ascended to the window.
When Dick came to the incident of the ladies of the harem presenting them, in Tippoo's presence, with the two caskets, Mrs. Holland broke in: "You did not say anything about that in your letter, Dick. Let me see your casket. Where is it?"
"It is in one of the saddlebags," Dick said.
"They are in my room," Rajbullub corrected. "Surajah brought them up at once."
"Then he had better get them," the Rajah said.
"What do they contain, Dick?" he asked, as Surajah left the room.
"All sorts of things--necklaces and rings. Some of them are stones, as if they had been taken out of their settings. Pertaub said they had done this because they thought, perhaps, that Tippoo would not allow the jewels they had worn to be sold, or worn by anyone else."
"Then I should think that they must be valuable," the ranee said.
"Pertaub said they were worth a good deal, but I don't know whether he really knew about the cost of precious stones. Some of the things were of small value, being, I suppose, the trinkets of the slave girls. All gave something, and there is a little cross there that belonged to Annie. It has her initials on it, and she had it on her neck, when she was captured. It was the thing she valued most, and therefore she gave it. I don't suppose she had anything else, except the usual trinkets she would wear, when she went out on special occasions with the ladies of the harem. I thought it would be useful to us, to prove who she was."
Surajah now returned with the casket.
"You had better look at Surajah's first," Dick said. "I don't know anything about it, but it looks as if mine were the more valuable. I wanted Surajah to put them all together, and divide fairly, but he would not."
"My son was perfectly right," Rajbullub said. "If it had not been for the young lord, the deed would never have been done at all. Surajah aided in killing the tiger, but that was nothing more than he has done on the hills, here. It is to you the merit is entirely due. The purse that the Sultan gave my son was, in itself, an ample reward for the share he took in it.
"Now, Surajah, open your casket. The ladies are waiting to see the contents."
The whole of the little packets, some fifty in number, were opened and examined; many of them eliciting exclamations of admiration from the ranee and Mrs. Holland.
"There is no doubt that many of them are worth a good deal of money," the Rajah said. "It is certain that Tippoo's treasuries are full of the spoils he has carried off, from the states he has overrun, and the ladies of the harem, no doubt, possess a store of the jewels, and could afford to be liberal to those whom they considered had saved their lives. Those seven, which you put together as the best, must alone be worth a large sum. I should think that the total value of the whole cannot be less than forty or fifty thousand rupees, so that, if those in your casket are handsomer than these, Dick, they must be valuable, indeed."
Dick's casket was next examined.
"Some of these stones are magnificent, Dick. Those three great diamonds could only be valued by a jeweller accustomed to such things, for their value depends upon their being of good lustre, and free from all flaws; but, according to my judgment, I should say that, at the very least, they must be worth ten thousand rupees each. That pearl necklace is worth at least as much. Those rubies are superb. I should say, lad, that the value of the whole cannot be less than fifteen thousand pounds.
"The harem must be rich in jewels, indeed, to be able to make such gifts. Not that I am surprised at that. Tippoo had all the jewels belonging to the lawful rulers of Mysore. He has captured all those of Coorg, Travancore, and the other states on the Malabar coast. He and his father have looted all the Carnatic, from Cape Comorin to the north of Madras. He has captured many of the Nizam's cities, and several Mahratta provinces.
"In fact, he has accumulated, at Seringapatam, the spoils of the whole of southern India, and those of the Hindoo portion of his own people. The value of the jewels, alone, must be millions of pounds; and as he himself, as they say, dresses simply, and only wears one or two gems, of immense value, he may well have bestowed large quantities upon his harem, especially as these would be, in fact, only loans, as at the death of their wearers they would revert to him, or, indeed, could be reclaimed at any moment, in a freak of bad temper.
"I have no doubt they had to ask his permission to give you the presents, and as you, at the moment, were in high favour with him, I daresay he suffered them to give what they chose, without inquiring at all into their value. The gold he gave you was simply to procure your outfits, and he left it to the harem to reward you, as they chose, for the service you had rendered.
"Well, Dick, I congratulate you heartily. It places your future beyond doubt, and leaves you free to choose any mode of life that you may prefer.
"I congratulate you, too, Margaret, on the lad's good fortune; which he has well deserved by his conduct.
"See this, my sons. Here you have a proof of the advantages of the training your cousin has had. The quickness and coolness he has acquired, by it, enabled him to make his way down through the fort at the top of the pass, and to defend the ruined hut against fifty enemies. Now it has enabled him to seize the opportunity, opened by the attack of the tiger on Tippoo's harem, thereby gaining the Sultan's favour, his appointment to the rank of colonel in the Mysore army, a post in his Palace, and this magnificent collection of gems. Without that quickness and decision, his courage alone would have done little for him. We in India have courage; but it is because our princes and nobles are brought up in indolence and luxury that the English, though but a handful in point of numbers, have become masters of such wide territories. Surajah is as brave as Dick, but he would be the first to tell you that it is to Dick he owes it that, on their first excursion together, he escaped with his life; and that, in this last adventure, he attained rank and position, and has returned with these valuable gifts."
"It is indeed, my lord," Surajah said. "The young lord has been my leader, and I have tried to carry out his orders. Alone, I could never have got through the gate in the fort, and should no more have thought of going to the assistance of the ladies of the Sultan's harem than did any other of the thousands of men who were there, looking on."
"So you see, boys," the Rajah went on, "that though, when he came out here, your cousin was able neither to shoot nor to ride, and can neither shoot nor ride as well, now, as can tens of thousands of natives; he has acquired, from his training in rough exercises, qualities of infinitely greater value than these accomplishments; and I do hope that his example will stir you up to take much greater interest than, in spite of my advice, you have hitherto done in active sports and exercises. Your grandmother was an Englishwoman, and I want to see that, with the white blood in your veins, you have some of the vigour and energy of Englishmen."
It was some days before Annie Mansfield left her room. For the first two she had been completely prostrated. After that, she rapidly gained strength; but Mrs. Holland thought it best to insist upon her remaining perfectly quiet, until she had quite recovered. Either she or the ranee were constantly with her, so that when, at the end of a week, she made her first appearance at the breakfast table, she was already at home with three of the party.
Before long her shyness completely wore off, and she seemed to have become really a member of the family. Mrs. Holland had altered two of her own dresses to fit her, but she preferred, for a time, to dress in Indian costume, to which she was accustomed; and which was, indeed, much better suited to the climate than the more closely-fitting European dress. Mrs. Holland, however, bargained that she should, of an evening, wear the frocks she had made for her.
"You must get accustomed to them, my dear, so that when you find your own people, you will not be stiff and awkward; as you certainly will be, when you dress in English fashion for the first time."
The day after his arrival, Dick had written to the military secretary of the governor of Madras, with whom he was well acquainted, to tell him that, having gone up in disguise to Seringapatam, to endeavour to ascertain the fate of his father, he had discovered a young English girl, detained as a slave in Tippoo's harem, and that he had enabled her to effect her escape, and had placed her in the charge of his mother. He then repeated the account Annie had given of her capture, and asked if the circumstances could be identified, and if the officer, of the name of Mansfield, concerned in it was still alive; and if so, was he still in India?
Annie was secretly dreading the arrival of the answer. After her life as a slave, her present existence seemed to her so perfectly happy that she shrank from the idea of any fresh change. She had no memory, whatever, of her parents, and had already a very strong affection for Mrs. Holland. She liked the ranee very much also, and the absence of all state and ceremony, in the household of the Rajah, was to her delightful. She was already on good terms with the boys; and as to Dick, she was always ready to go out with him, if he would take her, to run messages for him, or to do anything in her power; and, indeed, watched him anxiously, as if she would discover and forestall his slightest wish.
"One would think, Annie," he said one day, "that you were still a slave, and that I was your master. I don't want you to wait on me, child, as you waited on the ladies of the harem. However, as I shall be going away in a few days now, it does not matter; but I should grow as lazy as a young rajah, if this were to go on long."
"What shall I do when you go away, Dick?"
"Well, I hope that you will set to work, hard, to learn to read and write, and other things my mother will teach you. You would not like, when you find your own people, to be regarded by girls of your own age as an ignorant little savage; and I want you to set to, and make up for lost time; so that, if you are still here when I come back, I shall find you have made wonderful progress."
"Oh, I do hope I sha'n't be gone before that, Dick!"
"I am afraid you must make up your mind to it, Annie, for there is no saying how long I may be away next time. You see, there is not much chance of my lighting upon another white slave girl, and having to bring her down here; and I shall go in for a long, steady search for my father."
"I don't want you to find another slave girl, Dick," she said earnestly, "not even if it brought you down here again. I should not like that at all."
"Why not, Annie?"
"Oh, you might like her ever so much better than me. I should like you to do all sorts of brave things, Dick, and to save people as you have saved me, but I would rather there was not another girl."
Dick laughed.
"Well, I don't suppose that there is much chance of it. Besides, I can't turn my uncle's palace into a Home for Lost Girls."
Two days before Dick and Surajah started again, the reply from the military secretary arrived. It stated that the time and circumstances pointed out that the place besieged and forced to surrender, eight years before, was Corsepan; and this was indeed rendered a certainty, by the fact that the officer in command was Captain Mansfield. He had with him a half company of Europeans, and three companies of Sepoys. On looking through the official papers at the time, he had found Captain Mansfield's report, in which he stated that, on the night after leaving the fort, the troops, which had been reduced to half their original strength, had been attacked by a party either of dacoits or irregular troops. Fearing that some such act of treachery might be attempted, he had told his men to conceal a few cartridges under their clothes, when they marched out with empty cartridge pouches. They had, on arriving at their halting place, loaded; and, when the dacoits fell upon them, had opened fire.
The robbers doubtless expected to find them defenceless, and speedily fled. In the confusion, some of them had penetrated far into the camp, and had carried off the captain's daughter, a child of six years old. When peace was signed with Tippoo, three weeks afterwards, the commissioners were ordered to make special inquiries as to this child, and to demand her restoration. They reported that Tippoo denied all knowledge of the affair, and neither she, nor any of the other girls there, were ever given up. The letter went on: "There can be no doubt that the young lady you rescued is the child who was carried off, and the initials you speak of, on the cross, may certainly be taken as proof of her identity. Her father retired from the Service last year, with the rank of colonel. I am, of course, ignorant of his address. As you say that Mrs. Holland will gladly continue in charge of her, I would suggest that you should write a letter to Colonel Mansfield, stating the circumstances of the case, and saying that, as soon as you are informed of his address, the young lady will be sent to England. I will enclose the letter in one to the Board of Directors, briefly stating the circumstances, and requesting them to forward the enclosure to Colonel Mansfield."
To Annie, the letter came as a relief. It would be nearly a year before a letter could be received from her father. Until then she would be able to remain in her new home.
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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18
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: A Narrow Escape.
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Mrs. Holland undertook to write the letter to Annie's father, and did so at very much greater length than Dick would have done, giving him the story of the girl's life at Seringapatam, the circumstances of her meeting Dick, and the story of her escape. She assured him that his daughter was all that he could wish her to be.
"She is of a very affectionate disposition. She is frank, outspoken, and natural--qualities that are wonderful, considering the years she has passed as a slave in the harem. Now that she has been with us for a fortnight, and has recovered from the fatigue of her flight, and is beginning to feel at home, she has regained her natural spirits, after their long repression.
"Personally, she is of about the average height, and of a more graceful figure than is usual with girls of her age. The stain has now worn off her face, and I should say she will, as she grows up, be pretty. She is fair rather than dark, has expressive eyes, and a nice mouth. Altogether, had I a daughter, I should be well content if she resembled your Annie. I shall, I can assure you, do my best to supply the place of a mother to her, until I receive a letter from you, and shall part from her with regret. She is, of course, at present entirely uneducated, but she has already begun to learn with me, and as she is quick and intelligent I hope that, before I resign my charge, her deficiencies will be so far repaired that she will be able to pass muster, in all ordinary matters."
"You will be back before I go, won't you, Dick?" Annie said, as she sat by his side on a seat in the garden, on the evening before he was to start.
"I think so," he said. "We can calculate on your being here ten months, anyhow. I have been talking it over with my mother. If it had not been for those jewels, I should have given up the search for my father after another six months, because it would have been high time for me to get to work in some profession. I had, indeed, made up my mind to enter the Company's service, for Lord Cornwallis promised me a commission, and my uncle received a letter some time ago, from the governor of Madras, saying that, on the very strong recommendation of Lord Cornwallis, and his report of my services, he was authorised to grant me one. It was to be dated back to the time I joined Lord Cornwallis, more than two years ago. However, now that I am really made independent of a profession, I shall probably continue my search for a somewhat longer time. But at any rate, I will promise to come back, at the end of ten months from the present time, so as to say goodbye to you, before you start."
The girl's face brightened.
"Thank you, Dick. I don't think I should go, anyhow, until I saw you again--not even if I got a letter saying that I was to sail by the next ship."
"My uncle would take you down bodily, and put you on board," Dick laughed. "Mind, Annie, when I come back, at the end of ten months, I shall expect to find you quite an educated young lady. I shall think of all sorts of hard questions, in geography and history, to put to you."
"I will try hard, Dick, really hard, to please you. I have had three lessons, and I have learnt all the letters quite well."
"That is a good beginning, Annie. It took me a lot longer than that, I know."
The next morning, Dick and Surajah started. They were to ride up the ghauts, to the frontier line at Amboor, two troopers accompanying them to bring back their horses. There they were to disguise themselves as traders, and make their way direct to Bangalore. Dick said goodbye to his mother, up in her own room.
"You must not be down-hearted, Mother," he said, as she tried in vain to keep back her tears. "You see, I have come back to you twice, safely, and after passing unsuspected in Tippoo's palace, there is no fear of my being detected elsewhere. Besides, of course, every month I am there I become better acquainted with the people, and can pass as a native more easily."
"I am not really afraid, my boy. You have got on so well that, it seems to me, God will surely protect you and bring you back safely. And I can't help thinking that this time your search may be successful. You know why I feel convinced that your father is still alive, and, in spite of past disappointments, I still cling to the belief."
"Well, Mother, if he is to be found I will find him. There are still many hill forts where he may be living, and his very existence forgotten, and until I have visited every one of them, I don't mean to give up the search. Anyhow, I shall come back at the end of ten months, whether I have heard of him or not. I have promised Annie that I will be back before she sails. It is not a very long journey down here, and I shall drop in for a fortnight's stay with you, as I have done this time."
"She is in the next room, crying her eyes out, Dick. You had better look in there, and say goodbye to her. She is not fit to go down to the door."
After parting with his mother, Dick went in to see Annie.
"You must not cry so, child," he said, as she rose from the divan, with her face swollen with crying. "I am sure that you will be very happy here, until I come back."
"I know, Dick; but it won't be at all the same, without you."
"Oh, you will have plenty to do, and you will soon fall into regular ways. Besides, you know, you have got to comfort my mother, and keep up her spirits, and I quite rely upon you to do that."
"I will try, Dick," she said earnestly.
"Now, goodbye, Annie."
He held out his hand, but she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him.
"You have never kissed me, not once," she said reproachfully, "and you were going away without it, now. Your mother kisses me, and the English girls in the harem always used to do so."
"But that is different, Annie. Girls and women do kiss each other, but boys and girls do not kiss, unless they are brothers and sisters, or are relations, or something of that sort."
"But you are not a boy. You are a great big man, Dick."
"I am not much more than a boy yet, Annie. However, there is no harm in kissing, when one is saying goodbye, so there.
"Now be a good girl, and don't fret;" and he ran downstairs to the door, where his uncle and the two boys were standing.
"Take care of yourself, lad," the Rajah said, as, after bidding them goodbye, Dick sprang upon his horse. "Whenever you get a chance, send down a letter as we arranged last night, to the care of Azol Afool, trader, Tripataly. That will seem natural enough, whoever you send it by, while a letter directed to me might excite suspicion.
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Uncle;" and, with a wave of his hand, Dick rode off and joined Surajah, who was waiting for him a short distance off. And then, followed by Ibrahim--who had begged so earnestly to be allowed to accompany them that Dick had consented to take him, feeling indeed that his services would be most useful to them--and the two troopers, they rode off at a sharp pace.
At Amboor they assumed their disguises. Dick purchased a pack pony, and some goods suitable to their appearance as pedlers, and then they started up the pass on foot. They passed the frontier line without any interruption, stopped and chatted for a few minutes with the guard, and then passed on up the valley.
"There is the house where we had our fight, Surajah," Dick said, as they reached the ruined village. "Though there is peace now, I fancy we should not get much farther than that fort ahead, if they guessed that we were the fellows who gave them such trouble, two years and a half ago."
"There is no fear of our being recognised," Surajah said. "The guard has probably been changed, long ago. Besides, they never once caught sight of our faces."
"Oh, no; we are safe enough," Dick agreed. "If I had not been sure of that, we would have gone up one of the passes to the south, that has been ceded to us, though it would have been a great deal longer round to Bangalore--unless, indeed, we had gone by Kistnagherry, and that would have been too dangerous to attempt, for the officers on the frontier would probably have recognised us."
It was late in the afternoon before they arrived at the gate. It stood open, and there was no sentry on duty. A few soldiers could be seen, loitering about in the street; but it was evident that, now the war was over and everything finally settled, it was considered that all occasion for vigilance was at an end.
Upon making inquiries, they soon found a house where they could put up for the night. They had, as is the custom in India, brought their provisions with them, and after leaving their goods in the house, and seeing that the horse was fed, Ibrahim set to work to cook a meal; while the others opened one of the packs, and went round the village, where they disposed of a few small articles.
They arrived, without any adventure, at Bangalore. There, as soon as they had established themselves at one of the caravansaries for travellers, Dick and Surajah went to the house of the trader to whom Pertaub had promised to consign their goods.
"We have come for some packs, that have been sent by friends of ours at Seringapatam to your care," Dick said, making as he spoke the sign that Pertaub had taught him, as enabling those who were Hindoos to recognise each other, at once. "We were to use the word 'Madras' as a sign that we were the parties to whom they were consigned."
"The goods arrived a week ago," the trader said, "and are lying for you at my warehouse. I will hand them over to you, tomorrow morning."
"Thank you. We may not come early, for we have to purchase two pack horses to carry them, and three tats for ourselves and our man. This may take us some time, and it will be, perhaps, better for us to come to you early the next morning, and we can then start away direct."
This was arranged, and on the following day, two strong animals were bought for the packs; and three tats, or ponies, for their own riding. Dick had disposed of the horse he had ridden down to Tripataly for a good price, and had also been supplied with funds by his mother, although, as he said, the contents of their packs ought to suffice to pay all their expenses, for a long time.
Then they purchased some provisions for the journey. The pack horse they had brought with them was laden with these, and the goods brought up from Amboor. The new pack horses were taken round to the trader's, and the goods sent from Seringapatam packed on them. Then they mounted and rode off at a walk, the pack animals following Ibrahim's horse, tied one behind the other.
They had already debated upon the course to pursue, and finally decided that they would, in the first place, again visit Savandroog; for the conviction Dick had entertained, that there was at least one white captive there, had increased rather than diminished.
"I can't give any good reason for it, Surajah," he had admitted, when they talked it over before starting, "but it is just because I have no good reason to give, that I want to go there again. Why should I have such a strong conviction without a good cause? One has heard of a presentiment of evil--I can't help feeling that this is a presentiment of good. The question is, how can we best go there again? I don't think it is in the least likely that the governor will have heard of our flight, as this would be the last direction anyone would think of our taking, for had we done so, we might have met the Sultan on his way back from Bangalore. It will naturally be supposed that we have made for the frontier, and have descended the Western or Southern Ghauts. The affair will, of course, seem a mystery to them altogether; for why should two young fellows, so recently promoted, and in such high favour, desert Tippoo's service? If they do not associate Annie's disappearance with our flight--and there is no reason on earth why they should do so, as no one ever saw us speaking to her--they will most likely think that we have fallen into the hands of the Dacoits, or Thugs, and have been murdered. Numbers of people do disappear every year, and are, as everyone supposes, victims of that detestable sect. My uncle has told me of Thugs. He warned me to be very careful, if I travelled with strangers, for that these men travel in all sorts of disguises.
"So I think that, as far as that goes, we could boldly put on our uniforms and badges again, and ride into Savandroog. The disadvantage of doing so is, however, plain. The commander would remain with us all the time. We should get no opportunity of speaking privately with any of the soldiers, and, taking us to be in Tippoo's confidence, he would, as before, shirk the question of prisoners. On the other hand, if we can get in as traders we shall be able to move about unwatched--to go to the soldiers' huts and offer goods to their wives, and be able to find out, to a certainty, if there is a prisoner there, and, if so, where he is kept. We may even see him; for while, if the governor wished to keep his existence a secret, he would have shut him up when he heard that two of Tippoo's officers were coming, he would not trouble about it, one way or the other, in the case of a couple of traders.
"The only objection to that course is that we were here but two or three months since, and he and his servants, and that artillery officer we went round with, would know us at once. If we go, we shall have to alter our appearance completely. At any rate, we had better provide means for disguise, and we can use them, or not, as we please."
While they were at Tripataly, therefore, they had two false beards made for themselves, and tried many experiments in the way of painting their faces; and found that by tracing light lines on their foreheads, and at the corners of their eyes, they were able, by the help of beards, to counterfeit the appearance of old age, so well that it could only be detected on close observation. Dick, too, had purchased a pair of native spectacles, with large round glasses and broad black-horn rims, that made him look, as he said, like an astonished owl. It was agreed that Surajah should wear, under his dress, a very thickly padded vest, which would give him the appearance of being fat, as well as elderly.
They proceeded for seven or eight miles at a walking pace, and when the heat of the day rendered it necessary for them to stop, turned into a grove by the roadside, as they had no intention of going on to Savandroog that day, intending to halt some miles short of it, and to present themselves there the next afternoon. They therefore prepared for a stay of some hours. The pack horses were unloaded, and the saddles taken off the other animals.
Half an hour later a party of twelve men, travelling in the same direction as themselves, also halted and turned in among the trees. The man who was apparently the leader of the party came across to where they were sitting.
"We do not disturb you, I hope, brothers?" he said. "The grove is large enough for us all. I see that you are traders, like myself."
"By no means," Surajah replied. "The wood is open to all, and even were it not, we should be discourteous, indeed, did we refuse to share our shade with others. Sit down by us, I beg of you, while your people are unloading your animals."
"I marked you as you left Bangalore," the trader said, as he seated himself beside them, "and when I saw that you were taking the same route that we should follow, I wondered how far our roads might lie together."
"We are travelling west," Surajah replied. "It may be that we shall stop at Magree, and there, or at Outradroog, stop for a day or two to trade. Thence we may go north."
"Then as far as Outradroog our paths will lie together," the merchant said. "There we shall strike the river, and turn south to Seringapatam. I am sorry that you will not be going farther in our direction, for the roads are far from safe. Since the war with the Feringhees ended, there are many disbanded soldiers who have taken to dacoity, and it is always better to travel with a strong band. I wonder that you venture with three loaded animals, and only one man beside yourselves."
Surajah was about to speak, but a quick glance from Dick stopped him.
"We think there is less danger in travelling in a small body than there is with a large one," the latter said. "There is less to tempt anyone to interfere with us. Moreover, we could not travel with a caravan, because the greater part of our goods are such as would tempt the peasantry only. We therefore stop at small villages to trade, leaving the towns to those who travel with more valuable merchandise."
After chatting for some minutes, the traveller got up and joined his party.
"I don't much like that fellow's looks," Dick said, when they were alone.
"Why? He looks a very respectable man."
"Oh, yes, he looks respectable enough, but for all that I don't fancy him. It may be that he regards us as rivals, and was only trying to find out where we intended to stop, and whether we were likely to spoil his trade. That was why I said what I did, so that he might perceive that we were not likely to interfere with him.
"Then again, Surajah, I remembered my uncle's warning against joining other travellers, as these Thugs, who, they say, commit so many murders, generally travel in bands, disguised sometimes as traders, sometimes as men seeking work, sometimes as disbanded soldiers. Anyhow, it is as well to be careful. We have each got a brace of double-barrelled pistols in our girdles, in addition to these old single-barrelled Indian ones that we carry for show, and our swords are leaning against the tree behind us, so we can get hold of them in a moment. I know, of course, that the betting is all in favour of these people being peaceful traders, but I don't want to leave anything to chance, and there is nothing like being prepared for whatever may happen."
Presently Dick got up and sauntered across to Ibrahim, who was engaged in cooking.
"Ibrahim," he said, "don't look round while I speak to you, but go on with your cooking. I don't like the look of the leader of this party. He may be a respectable trader, he may be a Dacoit or a Thug. I want you to keep a sharp lookout, without seeming to do so. See that your pistols will come out of your girdle easily. Keep your sword handy for use. If you see anything suspicious, come over and tell me, and if there is not time for that, shout."
"I will watch, Sahib," Ibrahim said. "But they seem to me peaceable men like ourselves. Of course they carry weapons. No one would travel about, with merchandise, without doing so."
"They may be all right, Ibrahim, but I have a sort of feeling that they are not, and at any rate, it is best to be cautious."
The other party did not light a fire, but sat down and ate some provisions they carried with them. When Surajah and Dick had finished their meal, the leader again strolled over to them. He asked whether they intended to sleep, and on hearing that they did not, he again sat down with them. He proceeded to discuss trading matters, to describe the goods he carried, the places where he had purchased them, and the prices he had given.
As he talked, Dick noticed that three or four of the others came across. They did not sit down, but stood round listening to the conversation, and sometimes joining in. Dick's feeling of uneasiness increased, and thrusting one hand carelessly into his girdle, he grasped the butt of one of his hidden pistols.
Suddenly a loud cry came from Ibrahim. At the same moment something passed before Dick's face. He threw himself backwards, drawing his pistol as he did so, and fired into the body of the man behind him. A second later he shot another, who was in the act of throwing a twisted handkerchief round Surajah's neck. Then he leapt to his feet, delivering, as he did so, a heavy blow, with the barrel of his pistol, on the head of the trader who had been sitting between him and Surajah.
It had all passed in a few seconds, and the other men started back, in their surprise at this unexpected failure of their plan.
Surajah was on his feet almost as quickly as Dick. Even yet, he did not understand what had happened. At this moment there was the crack of another pistol, and then Ibrahim came running towards them, having shot a man who had suddenly drawn his sword, and tried to cut him down. At his heels came the six men who had, up to this point, been standing in a group near their horses.
Without hesitation, Dick drew out one of his single-barrelled pistols and shot the pretended trader, whose turban had saved him from the effect of the blow, and who, shouting loudly to his companions, was struggling to his feet. The remaining eight men had all drawn their swords, and were rushing upon them.
"Fire, Surajah!" Dick shouted. "Are you asleep, man?"
Surajah was not asleep, but he was confused by the suddenness of the fray, and was still doubtful whether Dick had not made an entirely unprovoked attack upon the strangers. However, he perceived that it was now too late to discuss that point, and was a question of fighting for his life. Accordingly, he fired both barrels of one of his pistols. One of the men dropped.
"Your sword, Surajah!" Dick exclaimed, as he grasped the scabbard of his own weapon in his left hand, while in his right he held his other double-barrelled pistol.
Their antagonists, with yells of fury, were now upon them. Dick shot one, but the next man he aimed at darted suddenly aside when he fired. Dick dropped his pistol, and grasped the hilt of his sword just in time to ward off a blow aimed at his head. Blow after blow was showered upon him, so quickly that he could do no more than ward them off and wait his opportunity. He heard Surajah fire two more shots in quick succession; then Ibrahim suddenly dashed forward and cut down his opponent, and then furiously engaged another, who was on the point of attacking him from behind. Dick drew his remaining pistol, and shot the man through the head.
He had then time to look round.
Both Surajah's shots had told, and he was now defending himself against the assaults of two others, who were pressing him hard, while a third stood irresolute a short distance away. Dick rushed to Surajah's assistance. As he did so, the third man fled.
"After him, Ibrahim!" Dick shouted. "Not one of them must get away."
The two Thugs defended themselves, with cries of fanatical fury, but their opponents were far better swordsmen, and, fighting coolly, were not long before they cut them both down.
"What on earth is it all about, Dick?" Surajah asked, as, panting with his exertions, he looked round after cutting down his opponent.
"Thugs," Dick said briefly.
"Are you sure, Dick?" Surajah asked presently. "It may be a terrible business for us, if there is any mistake."
For answer, Dick pointed to the bodies of the two men he had first shot. One still grasped the roomal, or twisted silk sash, while a like deadly implement lay by the side of the other.
"Thank Heaven!" Surajah ejaculated. "I was afraid there might have been a mistake, Dick, but I see that you were right, and that it was a party of Thugs. If it had not been that you were on the watch for them, and had your pistol ready, we should have lost our lives."
"It was a close shave as it was, Surajah. One second later, and you and I should both have been strangled. I had my hand on my pistol, and felt so sure that an attack was intended that, the moment something passed before my face, although I had no idea what it was, I threw myself back and fired at the man behind me, with an instinctive feeling that my life depended on my speed. But it was only when, on looking at you, I saw a man in the act of throwing a noose round your neck, that I knew exactly what I had escaped."
"It was fortunate that they had not pistols," Surajah said. "We should have had no chance against them, if they had had firearms."
"No; they could have shot us the moment I first fired. But Uncle said, when he was talking to me one day, that he had heard that the Stranglers did not carry firearms, because the reports might attract attention; and that it was a matter of religion, with them, to kill their victims by strangling; but that if the Strangler failed, which he very seldom did, the other men would then despatch the victims with their swords and knives.
"Ah! here comes Ibrahim."
"I caught him just outside the trees, Sahib. He will strangle no more travellers."
"Well, what had we better do?" asked Surajah.
"I should say we had better make off, as fast as we can. Of course, if we were really traders, able to prove who we are, we should go back to the town and report the affair; but as we can't do that, we had better be moving on at once, before any other party of travellers comes up. That was why, when we had killed several of them, I was anxious that none should get away, for they might have gone and accused us of slaughtering their companions."
"That would be too unlikely a story to be believed. No one would credit that three men would attack twelve."
"But there would be no one to prove that there were only three. The fellows would naturally swear that there were a score of us, and that, after murdering their companions, the rest made off with the booty.
"Ibrahim, load the pack animals, at once. We will saddle the horses.
"I think, Surajah, we had better leave everything just as it is. It is now getting on for the afternoon. It is likely enough that no other travellers will enter the grove today. By tomorrow, at the latest, someone will come in, and will of course go and report at once, in Bangalore, what he has found; and they will send out here to examine into it. When they find that the men have all fallen, sword in hand, that two of them are evidently Stranglers, and that their girdles have not been searched, nor the packs on their horses opened, it will be seen that it was not the work of robbers. I don't suppose they will know what to make of it, but I should think they would most likely conclude that these men have been attacked by some other party, and that it is a matter of some feud or private revenge--though, even then, the fact that the bodies have not been searched for valuables, or the baggage or animals carried off, will beat them altogether."
By this time, the horses were ready for the start, and after looking up and down the long, straight road, to see that no one was in sight, they issued from the wood and continued their journey. Being anxious, now, to get away as far as possible from the scene of the struggle, instead of going on to Magree as they had intended, they turned off by the first country road on the left-hand side, and made for Savandroog, which they could see towering up above the plain. When within three miles of it, they halted in a large wood. Here, as soon as the horses had been unsaddled, and the fire lighted, their talk naturally turned to the fight they had gone through.
"I cannot make out how you came to suspect them, Dick."
"I can hardly account for it myself, but, as I told you, I did not like the look of that man, and I had an uneasy sort of feeling, which I could not explain even to myself, that there was danger in the air."
"But what made you think of these Stranglers? I had heard some talk about them, but never anything for certain."
"The Rajah told me, when he was warning me against joining parties of travellers, that although very little was known about the organisation, it was certain that there was a sect who strangled and robbed travellers in great numbers. He said that he was aware that complaints had been made, to princes all over India, of numbers of persons being missing; and that it was certain that these murders were not the work of ordinary dacoits, but of some secret association; and that even powerful princes were afraid to take any steps against it, as one or two, who had made efforts to investigate the affair, had been found strangled in their beds. Therefore, no one cared to take any steps to search into the matter. It was not known whether these Stranglers, scattered as they were very widely, obeyed one common chief, or whether they acted separately; but all were glad to leave this mysterious organisation alone, especially as they preyed only on travellers, and in no case meddled in any way with rajahs, or officials, who did not interfere with them. Consequently, the idea occurred to me, directly, that these men who seemed like traders might be a party of these Stranglers; and when the others came up, while the leader was sitting talking to us, I felt as if cold water was running down my back, and that someone was whispering to me, 'Be on your guard, be on your guard!' Therefore, the moment something passed before my face, I threw myself back and fired at the man behind me, without a moment's thought as to what it was."
"Well, certainly you saved our lives by doing so, Dick; for I suppose, if that man behind me had once got his silk scarf round my neck, he would have choked me before I had time to so much as lift my hand."
"I have not the least doubt that he would, and I feel thankful, indeed, that I had such a strange feeling that these men were dangerous. Do you know, Surajah, it seems to me that it was just the same sort of feeling that my mother tells me she has, whenever my father is in danger; and I shall be curious to know, when we get back, whether she had the same feeling about me. Anyhow, I shall, in future, have even more faith than I had before, in her confidence that she would have certainly known if any evil had happened to my father."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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19
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: Found At Last.
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The next morning, early, Dick and Surajah set to work to perfect their disguises. They had, before, appeared simply as two young traders, well to do, and of a class above the ordinary peddling merchant. They now fitted on the ample beards that had been made at Tripataly. These were attached so firmly to their faces, by an adhesive wax, that they could not be pulled off without the use of a good deal of force. With the same stuff, small patches of hair were fastened on, so as to hide the edge of the foundation of the beard. Tufts of short grey hair were attached to their eyebrows; a few grey lines were carefully drawn at the corner of the eyes, and across the foreheads; and when this was done, they felt assured that no one was likely to suspect the disguise.
Ibrahim, who had assisted in the operation, declared that he should take them for men of sixty-five, and as, before beginning it, both of them had darkened their faces several shades, they felt confident that no one at the fort was likely to recognise them. When Surajah had put on the padded undergarment, and converted himself into a portly-looking old man, and Dick the great horn spectacles, they indulged in a burst of laughter at their changed appearance, while Ibrahim fairly shouted with amusement.
He was to stay behind in the wood, when they went on, for it would but have added to the risk had he accompanied them, as, unless also completely disguised, he would have been recognised by the soldiers with whom he had talked, during his twenty-four hours' stay inside the Tower walls. He was, in the evening, to proceed along the road, to encamp in the last grove he came to, at a distance of a quarter of a mile from the gates, and to remain there until they returned.
Under his garments Dick had wound a thin, but very strong, silken cord that he had purchased at Bangalore. It was four hundred feet in length, and considerably increased his apparent bulk, although he was still far from emulating the stoutness of Surajah. The halters of the pack horses were attached to the cruppers of the riding ponies, and after a final instruction to Ibrahim that if at the end of four days they had not returned, he was to endeavour to find out what had happened to them, and was then to carry the news to Tripataly, they started for the fort. When they approached the gate they were, as before, hailed by the sentry.
"We are merchants," Surajah said, "and we have with us a rich assortment of goods of all descriptions--silks and trinkets for the ladies of the governor's harem, and handkerchiefs, scarves, silver ornaments, and things of all kinds suitable for the wives of those of lower rank. We pray for permission to enter and exhibit our wares, which have been collected by us in the cities where they were manufactured, and which we can therefore sell at prices hitherto unheard of."
"I will send word up to the governor," the officer said. "It is a long time since we have been visited by traders, and maybe he will grant you permission. You had best go back to the shade of those trees. It will be a good hour before the answer comes."
"I think it likely they will let us in," Dick said, as they moved away towards the trees. "It is but a short time since things were sufficiently settled for traders to venture up here, and as Savandroog lies altogether off the roads between large towns, it is possible that none with such goods as we have have come this way, since the garrison took over Savandroog from the British detachment that occupied it."
In little over an hour there was a shout from the walls, and on approaching the gate again, they were told that the governor had given permission for them to enter.
"You are to be blindfolded," the officer said, as the gate closed behind them. "No one may ascend the rock, unless he consents to this. Your horses will be led, and beware that you do not attempt to remove the bandages, until you have permission to do so."
It took nearly an hour to mount the steep road, and when they came to a standstill, and the sub-officer who had accompanied them told them they could now remove their bandages, they found themselves in front of a small building, close to the commander's quarters. The packs were, by the order of the officer, taken off the horses by the soldiers who had led them up, and carried into the house. The horses were fastened in the shade to rings in the wall, and on Surajah pointing out the packs containing goods he wished to show to the ladies, two of the soldiers carried them across to the governor's house. The old officer himself came to the door.
"Enter, my friends," he said. "You are the first traders who have come up here since we took over the fort, some six months ago, and methinks you will do a brisk business if your wares are, as you sent up to say, good and cheap."
The bales were taken into a room, the soldiers retired, and in a minute the commander's wife, accompanied by three or four other ladies, entered. Dick and Surajah, after salaaming profoundly to the veiled figures, at once began to unpack their bales.
The assortment had been very judiciously made, and to women who had, for more than six months, been deprived of the pleasure of shopping, the display was irresistible. In their desire to examine the goods, the ladies speedily lifted their veils, and, seating themselves on cushions they had brought in with them, chattered unrestrainedly; examining the quality of the silks which Surajah and Dick, squatting behind their wares, handed for their inspection; comparing the colours, asking each other's advice, and endeavouring to beat down the terms Surajah named.
In the first place, he asked the prices marked on small labels attached to each article, but suffered himself, after the proper amount of reluctance, and protests that he should be a ruined man, to abate his terms considerably, although the ladies were evidently well satisfied that the goods were indeed bargains.
It was a long time before the ladies could make up their minds which to choose, among the many silks exhibited for their selections. When this had been settled, the pack containing delicate muslins was opened, and the same scene gone through. It was, altogether, four hours before the purchases were all made, and even then the boxes of trinkets remained unopened, the governor's wife saying: "No, we will not look at them. We have ruined ourselves already. Tomorrow, when our husbands know how much we have spent, you can show the trinkets to them, and try your best to get them to buy. These things we have been getting are our own affair. It is for them to make us presents of ornaments, if they are disposed to.
"This evening you must come in again. The ladies from the other fort will be here, then."
The purchases made were paid for, the bales again fastened up, and carried across to their room. The governor met them as they went out.
"I suppose you have been ruining us all?" he said good humouredly. "Well, it is a dull life up here, and the ladies have but few chances of spending money."
"We are to see the ladies from the other fort this evening, my lord," Surajah said. "Have we your permission, in the meantime, to go and sell in the soldiers' quarters? We have goods suited to the needs of their wives also, as well as those for the ladies."
"Certainly. You can go about as you please up here. It is only as to the approaches that we have to be careful. But wait in your room for a short time. I will have food sent over to you."
In a few minutes a servant brought across a large dish of pillau, and several cakes of sweetmeats, the latter being, as he informed them, the special gift of the governor's wife. There was no occasion for them to start, as they had intended, after their meal, for the news of their coming had spread, and by the time they had finished, a number of women were waiting outside. Until sunset they were busily engaged in selling their goods--for the most part bright cotton cloths, red silk handkerchiefs, and cheap silver trinkets. Soldiers sauntered in and out. For these they had provided a store of pipes, tobacco, tobacco boxes, knives, and muslins for turbans; and as the news spread that these were to be obtained, the number of soldiers increased, until the room was quite crowded with them, as well as by many natives engaged in the work of rebuilding the fortifications.
Surajah did the selling, while Dick's part of the work was receiving the money and giving change. As he was stooping over a tray in front of him, piled with copper, picking up the change for silver coin, he heard a man ask Surajah for a pound of his best tobacco and a pipe.
There was something in the accent that caused him to look up sharply. As he did so, he started. The blood rushed to his head so violently that a mist seemed to pass across his eyes, and his hand shook so that he dropped the coins he was counting. Forgetful of the dark stain on his face, he bent forward over the tray again to conceal his emotion, forced himself to pick out the right change, and then, handing it to its owner, again looked up.
The man who was standing before Surajah was broader and taller than those around him. The sun had darkened his face, until its shade approached those of his companions, and yet there was no mistaking the fact that he was a European. A heavy moustache and beard, streaked with grey, concealed the lower part of his face. Dick dared not gaze on the man too earnestly, and could see no likeness to the picture on the wall at Shadwell; but, allowing for the effects of hardship and suffering, he judged him to be about the age of his father.
The man was evidently on good terms with the soldiers, one or two of whom were chaffing him on his purchase.
"Will nothing but the best tobacco satisfy you?" one laughed.
"Nothing; and even that won't really satisfy me. This stuff is good enough, when rolled up, for cigars, and it does well enough in hookahs; but I would give all this pound for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco we smoked at sea."
Again Dick's heart beat rapidly. This man must have been a sailor. He could not restrain himself from speaking.
"Have you been a sailor, then?" he asked.
"Ay, I was a sailor, though it is many years ago, now, since I saw the sea."
"We got some English tobacco at Madras," Dick said, not hesitating for once at telling an untruth. "We sold most of it to the Feringhee soldiers, on our way up, but I think I have got a little of it still left somewhere in the pack. I am too busy to look for it now, and we shall soon be going to show our goods to the officers' wives; but if you can come here at nine o'clock, I may have looked it out for you."
"I can't come at nine," the man said, "for at half-past eight I am shut up for the night."
"Come at eight, then," Dick said. "If I am not back, come the first thing in the morning, before we get busy."
"I will come, sure enough," the man said. "I would walk a hundred miles, if they would let me, for half a pound of pigtail."
"Get rid of them, Surajah," Dick whispered, as the man shouldered his way through the crowd. "Make some excuse to send them off."
"Now, my friends," Surajah said, "you see it is getting dusk. It will soon be too dark to see what you are buying, and we have been selling for eight hours, and need rest. At eight o'clock tomorrow we will open our packs again, and everyone shall be served; but I pray you excuse us going on any longer now. As you see, we are not as young as we once were, and are both sorely weary."
As time was no object, and the work of purchasing would relieve the tedium of the following day, the crowd good humouredly dispersed. Surajah rose and closed the door after the last of them, and then turned to Dick. He had, himself, been too busily engaged in satisfying the demands of the customers to look up, and had not noticed that one of them was a white man.
"What is it?" he asked, as he looked round. "Has the heat upset you?"
Then, as his eye fell on Dick, his voice changed, and he hurried towards him, exclaiming anxiously: "What is it, Dick? What has happened?"
For Dick was leaning against a bale by the side of him, and had hidden his face in his arms. Surajah saw that his whole frame was shaking with emotion.
"My dear lord," Surajah said, as he knelt beside him and laid his arm across his shoulder, "you frighten me. Has aught gone wrong? Are you ill?"
Dick slightly shook his head, and, lifting one of his hands, made a sign to Surajah that he could not, at present, speak. A minute or two later, he raised his head.
"Did you not see him, Surajah?"
"See who, Dick?"
"The white man you last served."
"I did not notice any white man."
"It was the one you gave a pound of the best tobacco to. Did you not hear me speak to him, afterwards?"
"No. I was so busy, and so fearfully hot with this padded thing, it was as much as I could do to attend to what they said to me. A white man, did you say? Oh, Dick!"
And as the idea struck him, he rose to his feet in his excitement.
"Do you think--do you really think he can be your father?"
"I do think so, Surajah. Of course, I did not recognise his face. Nine years must have changed him greatly, and he has a long beard. But he is about the right age, and, I should say, about the same figure; and he has certainly been a sailor, for he said, to one of the soldiers, that he would give that pound of tobacco for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco sailors smoke. I told him that, perhaps, I might be able to find him some in my packs, and asked him to come here at eight o'clock this evening. If I was not in, then, he was to come the first thing tomorrow morning; but of course I shall be in at eight. You must make some excuse to the ladies. Say that there are some goods you wish to show them, in one of the other packs, and ask me to go and look for it."
"Oh, Dick, only to think that, after all our searching, we seem to have come on him at last! It is almost too good to be true."
Great as was Surajah's confidence in Dick, he had never quite shared his faith that he would find his father alive, and his non-success while with the army, and since, had completely extinguished any hopes he had entertained. His surprise, therefore, equalled his delight at finding that, after all, it seemed probable that their search was likely to be crowned with success.
"Of course we will manage it," he said. "I will put aside that narrow Benares cloth-of-gold work for trimmings, and you can be as long as you like looking for it. They will be too busy examining the other things to give it a thought, after you have gone out."
"I can be back at half-past eight," Dick said, "for the man told me he was locked up at that hour. If it had not been for that, I should have arranged for him to come a little later. But, of course, I shall have opportunities for talking to him tomorrow.
"There is someone at the door."
Surajah opened it, and a soldier entered with their evening meal, and a request that they would go across to the governor's as soon as they had finished it, as the ladies had already assembled there. They hurried through their food, and then went across. There was quite a large gathering, for not only had the wives of the officers in the other fort come over, but all those who had been there in the morning were again present, several of them prepared to make further purchases. Trade was as actively carried on as it had been before.
When he judged it to be nearly eight o'clock, Dick nudged Surajah, who said, a minute afterwards: "We have forgotten the Benares cloth-of-gold. I am sure that will please the ladies for waist bands, or for trimmings. It must have got into the other bales, by mistake."
"I will go and fetch it," Dick said, and, rising, left the room.
A figure was standing at the door, when he reached the house.
"I was afraid you had forgotten me," the man said. "It is not quite eight o'clock yet, but as I found that you were both out, I began to be afraid that you might be detained until after I had to go; and you don't know how I long for a pipe of that tobacco. The very thought of it seems to bring old days back again."
By this time they had entered the house, and Dick shut the door behind him. He had left a light burning, when they went out. Dick was so agitated that he felt unable to speak, but gazed earnestly in the man's face.
"What is it, old chap?" the latter said, surprised at the close scrutiny. "Is anything wrong with you?"
Dick took off his spectacles, rather to gain time than to see more clearly, for a plain glass had been substituted for the lenses.
"I want to ask you a question," he said. "Is your name Holland?"
The man started.
"My name is Jack Holland," he said, "sure enough; though how you come to know it beats me altogether, for I am always called Jack, and except the governor, I don't think there is a man here knows my other name."
"You were captain of the Hooghley, wrecked on the Malabar coast, nine years ago," Dick said, this time speaking in English.
After an exclamation of startled surprise, the man stared at him in an astonishment too great for words.
"Are you English?" he said slowly, at last. "Yes, I was in command of the Hooghley. Who, in God's name, are you?"
Dick took his two hands.
"Father," he said, "I am your son, Dick."
The sailor gazed at him with a stupefied air.
"Are you mad, or am I?" he said hoarsely.
"Neither of us, Father. I am disguised as an old man, but really I am little more than eighteen. I have been searching for you for more than two years, and, thank God, I have found you at last;" and, bursting into tears, Dick would have thrown his arms round his father's neck, but the latter pushed him off with one hand, and held him at arm's distance, while his other hand plucked at his own throat, as if to loosen something that was choking him.
"It can't be true," he muttered to himself. "I am dreaming this. I shall wake presently, and you will be gone."
"It is quite true, Father. Mother is down at Tripataly, waiting for me to bring you to her."
With a hoarse cry the sailor reeled, and would have fallen, had not Dick caught him and allowed him to sink gradually to the ground; where he lay, half supported by one of the bales. Dick ran to one of the saddlebags, where he carried a flask of brandy in case of emergencies, poured some into a cup, and held it to his father's lips. The sailor gasped.
"It is brandy," he said suddenly. "I can't have dreamt that."
Then he broke into a violent sobbing. Dick knelt by his side, and took his hand.
"It is assuredly no dream, Father," he said gently. "I am really your son, Dick. I am here with a trusty friend, and now we have found you, you may be sure that we will, in some way, manage your escape. There is no time, now, to tell you all that has happened. That I can do, afterwards. All that is important for you to know, is, that Mother is quite well. She has never given up hope, and has always insisted that you were alive, for she said that she should surely have known, if you had died. So she taught me her language, until I could speak like a native; and two years and a half ago, she came out here with me.
"I accompanied the army, with my uncle's troop, and searched every hill fort they took, for you. Since they went back, I have been up in Mysore with my friend Surajah, and, thank God, at last we have found you!"
"Thank God, indeed, my boy. I do thank Him, not only that you have found me, but that your mother, whom I had never hoped to see again, is alive and well; and also, that He has given me so good a son."
"And now, Father, about your escape. In the first place, have you given your parole not to try to get away?"
Captain Holland was himself now.
"No lad, no. At the fort, where I was for six years, there was no possibility of escape; and as I was a long time, before I began to speak the language, even if I had got away I could never have made my way through the country. Then the governor--it was the same we have here--took me with him to Kistnagherry. I was the only white captive who went there with him. At Kistnagherry there were five or six others, but when Tippoo heard that an English army was coming up the ghauts, an order came that they were to be killed. But the governor is a kind-hearted old fellow, and as I had become almost a chum of his, he chose to consider that the order did not apply to me, but only to those he had found at Kistnagherry--for I fancy my existence had been forgotten altogether.
"I had great hopes that the British would take the place. I think that is the only time I have hoped, since I was made prisoner; but the old man is a good soldier, and beat them off.
"When peace was made, Kistnagherry was, as you know, given up, and the governor was ordered to evacuate the place, and to come here. He brought me with him, making me dye my face before I started, so that in my native dress it would not be noticed, in any town we passed through, that I was a white. For had this been done, the news might have come to Tippoo's ears, and there would have been an end of me.
"Except that I am locked up at night, I am not treated as a prisoner; but the governor, who has a strong sense of duty, has a certain watch kept over me. He has a real friendship for me, and would do all in his power to save my life, short of disobedience to an actual order. But his view is that I have been confided to his care, and that if, at any moment, the Sultan should write to demand me of him, he would be bound to produce me."
"Well, Father, it must be nearly half-past eight. I will go with you, and see where you are confined--that is the first step. We will both, tonight, think over the best way of attempting your escape; and in the morning, when your guard is removed, if you will come straight here we will talk it over.
"I am afraid you will have to wait for your pigtail till we get to Madras."
Captain Holland laughed.
"I can afford to wait for that, now. God bless you, my boy! I have never looked for such happiness as this again. But, as you say, it is time for me to be off. I have never been late yet, and if it were reported to the governor that I was so tonight, he might think that there was something in the wind."
Dick walked with his father across the fort.
"That is the house, in the corner," the captain said, pointing to one before which a group of soldiers were standing. "Don't come any farther."
Dick stood looking after him, and heard a voice say: "You are late, Jack. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you."
"I don't think it is past the hour, yet," Captain Holland replied. "I have been with those traders. They told me, this afternoon, they might be able to find me some English tobacco in their pack; but they have been too busy to look for it. I hope they will light on it, tomorrow. If they do, I will give you half a pipeful. I won't give you more, for it is strong enough to blow your head off, after this tasteless stuff you smoke here."
Then Dick hurried off to the house, snatched up the stuff he was supposed to be looking for, and joined Surajah at the governor's.
It was another hour before the ladies had completed their purchases. Dick, on entering, had given a little nod to Surajah, to let him know that it was really his father whom he had discovered, and had then tried to keep his attention upon his work as a salesman; and Surajah, as he handed him the goods, had given a furtive squeeze to his hand in token of his sympathy.
"So it is really your father?" he said, as, carrying their greatly diminished pack, they walked across to their house.
"It is, indeed. You may imagine his surprise and joy, when I told him who I was. Now we have got to talk over the best plan of getting him out."
When the door was shut, and they had seated themselves on two of the bales, Dick first repeated all that his father had told him, and then, for a long time, they discussed the best plan of attempting an escape. Both agreed, at once, that it would be next to impossible to get him down the road and out of the gate. In the first place, they would have to leave by daylight; and even could a disguise be contrived that would deceive the sentries and guard at the gate, all of whom were well acquainted with Captain Holland's figure and appearance, it was certain that, as but two had come up the rock, a third would not be allowed to leave, unless he had a special order from the governor.
They agreed, therefore, that the escape must be made over the precipice. That this was a matter of great difficulty was evident from the fact that the captain had made no attempt to get away in that manner. Still, there was hope that, with the assistance of the silk rope Dick had brought with them, it might be managed.
There was, too, the initial difficulty of getting out from the fort to be faced.
"We can do nothing, till we have had a long talk with my father," Dick said. "I have no doubt that he has thought all these things over, and has, long before this, made up his mind as to the point at which a descent would be easiest. As at present we know little, except by the casual examination we made last time, we can decide on nothing by ourselves."
"I hope it won't be a long way to let oneself down," Surajah said, "for I am quite sure I could not hold on, by that thin rope, for any distance."
"Nor could I, Surajah, if I had to trust only to my hands. My father, as a sailor, will be able to put us up to the best way to do it. But at any rate, he might let you down first; and I think that by twisting the rope two or three times round my body, and then holding it between my knees and feet, I might manage. But I dare say my father will hit on some better plan than that.
"And now we will lie down. I am so stiff that I can hardly stand, from squatting for so many hours behind those things of ours. I thought that I had got pretty well accustomed to it, but I never calculated on having to do it from ten in the morning until ten at night, with only two half-hours off."
Dick, however, had little sleep that night. He was too excited over the glorious success he had obtained to be capable of closing an eye, and it was not until day was breaking that he fell into a doze.
An hour later, he started to his feet at a knock at the door. He was wide awake in a moment, and on running to it, his father entered.
"You look older today than you did yesterday," the latter said, as he held his hand and gazed into Dick's face. "I fancy that neither of us has had any sleep to speak of. As for myself, I have not closed an eye."
"Nor did I, Father, until day began to break. Now please, let us talk over our plan of escape first, for we may be interrupted at any moment."
"Right you are, lad. Does your friend here speak English? For I have never got to be a good hand at their lingo. I want to thank him, too, but as you say, time is precious, and we must postpone that."
"He understands it, Father, and can talk it pretty fairly. We have been constantly together for nearly two years.
"Now, in the first place, is there any place where we can get down from the top here, with the aid of a rope?"
"It would be a pretty tough job, anyhow, but at the farthest end of the rock is a place where it goes sharp down, as if cut with a knife. That would be the best place to try. I take it to be about two hundred feet deep. Beyond, the ground seems to slope regularly away. If I could have got a rope I should have tried it, but they are pretty scarce commodities up here--in fact, I have never seen a piece twenty feet long since we came. What sort of rope have you got?"
Dick opened the front of his garment, and showed the rope round his body. Captain Holland gave a low whistle of dismay.
"I should not like to trust a child with that thing, Dick, much less a grown man. It is no thicker than a flag halliard."
"It is thin, Father, but there is no fear as to its strength. I tested every yard of it, and found it would bear six hundred weight."
"Well, that is ample; but how is one to hold on to a cord like that?"
"That is just what we want you to tell us, Father. There must be some way of managing it, if one could but hit upon it."
"Yes, that is so, lad," the sailor said thoughtfully. "I will think it over. Anyhow, I think I could lower you both down, and by knotting it I might get hold enough to come down after you; but even the knots would be precious small."
"One might get over that, Father, by fastening a short stick across, every five or six feet; or every two or three feet, if you like."
"Good, Dick. That would prevent one's coming down with a run, certainly, and by keeping it between one's legs, one could always get a rest. Yes, that will do, lad, if I can think of nothing better. There are a lot of spears stowed away, in the room adjoining mine. If we were to cut them up into six-inch lengths, with one of a foot long to each ten, for sitting on, they would be just the thing."
"That is capital, Father. I had a lot of practice in rope climbing, before I came out, and I am sure that I could manage with the help that would give. I don't think Surajah could, but we could let him down first, easily. Now, as to your prison."
"There are bars to the windows," the captain said, "and a sentry is always on duty outside. The only way would be to escape at the rear. I have often thought it over, but it was of no use breaking out there, if I could not get any farther. The wall is built of loose stone, without mortar. You see, it would have been a big job to bring up either mortar or bricks from down below, so most of the buildings are entirely of stone. The wall is two feet thick, but there would be no great difficulty in getting out the stones, and making a hole big enough to crawl through. I could not do it in my room, because they always look round to see that everything is safe before they lock me up; and it would take so long to do it noiselessly that half the night would be wasted, before I could get out. But the magazine, where the spears are kept, communicates with my room, and I could slip in there in the daytime, when no one was looking, get behind the spears, which are piled against the wall, and work hidden by them. No one would be likely to go into my room during the day, and if he did, he would not expect to find me there, as I am generally about the place. In that way, I could get out enough stones to render it an easy job to finish it, after I was locked up. A spear head is as good a thing, to help me prize them out, as one could wish for."
"Very well, Father. Then we had better settle that you shall get out in that way. Now, shall we go round on the outside, and help you?"
"No; I don't say but that your help would make it easier to get the stones out, without making a noise. Still, your going round might be noticed."
"Well then, Father, shall we seize and gag the sentry? We have done such a thing before, successfully."
"No, that wouldn't do, Dick. The guard house is hard by, and the slightest noise would destroy us all. Besides, as they have not many sentries posted up here, they relieve guard every hour, so that the thing would be discovered in no time.
"No; when I get out I will creep along noiselessly by the wall. There are houses in the yard almost all along, and though the sentry would not be likely to see me, in the shade of the wall, I will take care to cross the open spaces when his back is turned. I will then come straight here for you, and we will make for the wall behind the governor's house. There is no sentry on that side, for that steep ravine covers it from attack there. However, there are six or eight feet of level ground between the foot of the wall and the edge of the ravine. The walls are twenty feet in height. With fifty feet of that rope I will make a ladder, and will get hold of a piece of iron to make a grapnel of. How much time can you give me?"
"I should think we could stay here today and tomorrow, without seeming to be dawdling without reason. Do you think you could get ready by tomorrow night, Father?"
"Yes, that will give me plenty of time. Let me see. There is the short ladder to make. That won't take me over an hour. There are a hundred bits to cut for the long ladder, putting them about two feet apart. That will be a longish job, for the spear shafts are of very tough wood. However, I have a saw, and some oil, which will prevent it making a noise, and can make fairly quick work of it. I have several tools, too. I very often do carpentering jobs of all sorts--that is what first made the governor take to me. I can get all that part of the work done today. Tonight I will do the knotting. Of course, I shall make it a goodish bit over two hundred feet long, for it may turn out that I have not judged the depth right, and that the cliff is higher than I thought it was.
"I don't think sawing up the spear shafts will take more than an hour or two, so I shall be able to show myself about the place as usual. I will go over and take a good look at the rock again, and stick a spear head into the ground, at the point where it seems to me that it goes down straightest, and where there is the least chance of the rope getting rubbed against a sharp edge. I sha'n't begin at the wall until tomorrow, for I don't suppose I shall be able to get out the first few stones without making a bit of a noise, and it would not do to work at night.
"Now, lad, I think we can consider that as all settled, and I won't come near you again, unless there is some change of plan. I shall be here tomorrow evening, I hope it will be by ten o'clock--that must depend upon how long it takes me to get down the outside layer of stone.
"If you should hear a sudden row, make at once for the wall behind the governor's house, and wait there for me to join you. You see, some of the stones may come down with a run, and if they do I shall give the rest a shove, and be out like a shot. I shall hear which side the sentry is running round the house, and shall belt the other way. Of course, he will see the stones and give the alarm; but in the darkness, I have not much doubt of being able to slip away, and I will then make my way straight to the wall. Of course, I shall have the ladders tied up into bundles, and shall take care not to leave them behind me."
"All right, Father. We will be ready tomorrow evening. We shall wait quietly for you until you come, unless we hear a sudden alarm. If we do, we will go round behind the governor's house, and wait there for your coming."
"That is it, my lad. Now I will be going. I am glad that no one has come in while I have been here."
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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20
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: The Escape.
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Soon after eight o'clock customers began to drop in, and throughout the day a brisk trade was carried on. Surajah was sent for, in the course of the morning, by the governor; who bought several silver bracelets, brooches, and earrings for his wife. Most of the other officers came in during the day, and made similar purchases, and many trinkets were also sold to the soldiers, who considered them a good investment for their money. Indeed, no small portion of the earnings of the natives of India are spent upon silver ornaments for their women, as they can at any time be converted into cash.
The commoner cloths, knives, beads, and trinkets were almost all disposed of, by the end of the day, for as no traders had come up for six months, and as a long time might elapse before others did so, the garrison were glad to lay in a store of useful articles for themselves and families, especially as the prices of all the goods were at least as low as they could have been bought in a town.
"We sha'n't leave much behind us," Dick said, as he looked round after the last customer had left, and they had sat down to their evening meal. "Almost all the silver work and the better class of goods have gone, and I should say three-quarters of the rest. I daresay we shall get rid of the remainder tomorrow. I don't suppose many of the soldiers stationed down by the gate have come up yet; but when they hear that we sell cheaply, some of them will be here tomorrow. We have made no money by the transaction, but at any rate we shall have got back the outlay. Of course, I should not have cared if we had got nothing back. Still, it is satisfactory to have cleared oneself.
"I wonder how Ibrahim is getting on, down in the wood."
"He won't be expecting us today," Surajah replied, "but I have no doubt he will begin to feel anxious by tomorrow night. I wish we could have seen some way of getting the horses down. It will be awkward doing without them."
"Yes. I hope we shall get a good start. Of course, we must put on our peasant's dresses again. I am glad enough to be rid of that rope, though I have had to put on two or three additional things, to fill me out to the same size as before. Still, I don't feel so bound in as I did, though it is horribly hot."
"I am sure I shall be glad to get rid of all this stuffing," Surajah said. "I felt ready to faint today, when the room was full."
"Well, we have only one more day of it," Dick said. "I do hope Father will be able to get out by ten o'clock. Then, before eleven we shall be at the edge of the rock. Say we are two hours in getting down, and walking round to join Ibrahim. That will take us till one, and we shall have a good five hours before Father's escape will be discovered. They will know that he can't have gone down the road, and it will take them fully two hours to search the fort, and all over the rock. It will be eight o'clock before they set out in pursuit, and by that time we ought to be well on the road between Cenopatam and Anicull.
"If we can manage to buy horses at Cenopatam, of course we will do so. We shall be there by five o'clock, and ought to be able to get them in a couple of hours. Once on horseback, we are safe. I don't think they will pursue very far--perhaps not even so far as Cenopatam; for the governor will see that he had better not make any fuss about a white captive having escaped, when it was not known that he had one there at all. I think it more likely that, when he finds Father has got fairly away, he will take no steps at all. They have no cavalry here, and he will know, well enough, that there will be no chance of our being tracked and overtaken by footmen, if we had but a couple of hours' start."
"I think that is so, Dick. He has done his duty in keeping your father a prisoner, but I don't think he will be, at heart, at all sorry that he has made his escape."
"I think, Surajah, I will write a letter to him, and leave it here, to be found after we have got away, thanking him in Father's name for the kindness that he has always shown him, saying who I am, why I came here, and asking his pardon for the deception that I have been obliged to play upon him. He is a good old fellow, and I should think it would please him."
"I should think it would," Surajah agreed.
"I will do up my brace of pistols in a packet, and put them with the note," Dick went on, "and will say, in it, that I hope he will accept them as a token of our esteem and gratitude. They are well-finished English pistols, and I have no doubt he will prize them. I will mention, too, that we shall have made our escape at eleven o'clock, and therefore, by the time he receives my letter, we shall be far beyond the reach of pursuit. I daresay that will decide him upon letting the matter pass quietly, and he will see himself that, by making no fuss over it, no one outside the fortress will ever know that a prisoner has escaped."
The next day passed comparatively quietly. A good many soldiers and women came up from below, and before sunset their goods were completely cleared out. The governor came over in the afternoon and had a talk with them. They expressed their satisfaction at the result of their trading, and said that they should be off before sunrise.
"I hope you will come again," he said; "but not for another six months, for assuredly you will take away with you pretty nearly every rupee in the fortress. My wife and the other ladies are all well content with their purchases, and agree that they would not have got them cheaper at Seringapatam, or Bangalore."
"We try to buy cheaply and sell cheaply," Surajah said modestly. "In that way we turn over our money quickly. But it is seldom, indeed, that we find so good a market as we have done here. When we left Bangalore, we thought that it might be a month before we should have to go back there to replenish our packs from our magazine; but we shall only have been away five or six days."
"I am glad that you are content, for you are honest traders, and not like some of the rascals that have come up to the forts I have commanded, and fleeced the soldiers right and left."
Although not given to blushing, Dick felt that he coloured under his dye at the praise; for although they had certainly sold cheaply, he doubted whether the term honest could be fairly applied to the whole transaction.
As ten o'clock approached, the two friends sat with open door, listening intently for every sound. Conversation was still going on in the houses, and occasionally they could make out a dark figure crossing the yard.
It was not yet ten when a light footfall was heard, and a moment later Captain Holland appeared at the door.
"It is all right so far," he said, "but wait five minutes, to give me time to get the ladder fixed. You had better come one by one, and stroll quietly across the yard. It is too dark for anyone to recognise you, unless they run right against you; and even if they do so, they will not think it strange you should be out, after having been cooped up all the day."
In another moment he was gone. They had each, during the day, gone out for a time, and had walked round through the narrow lane behind the governor's house, to see that there were no obstructions that they might fall over in the dark. They agreed, on comparing notes, that Captain Holland had chosen the best possible place for scaling the wall, for the lane was evidently quite unused, and the house, which was higher than the wall, would completely screen them from observation.
In five minutes Dick followed his father, leaving Surajah to come on in a minute or two. They had secured about them the gold and silver they had received for their purchases, but they left behind a large heap of copper coins, on the top of which Dick had placed his letter to the governor, and the parcel containing the brace of pistols. He met no one on his way to the rendezvous, but almost ran against his father in the dark.
"Steady, Dick, or you will run me down," Captain Holland said. "I have got the ladder fixed, so you had better go up at once. Take these three spears with you. I will bring the long ladder."
"We sha'n't want the spears, Father. We have a brace of double-barrelled pistols, and two brace of single barrels."
"Never mind that, Dick. You will see that they will come in useful."
Dick took the spears, and mounted the ladder without further question. His father then came up and placed the long rope, which, with the pieces of wood, was a bulky bundle, on the wall and then descended again. It was another five minutes before Surajah came up.
"I was stopped on the way," he said, "and had to talk with one of the officers."
He and the captain were soon by Dick's side. The ladder was then pulled up, and lowered on the other side of the wall. They were soon standing at its foot.
"Shall I jerk the ladder down, Father?"
"I think not, Dick. It would only make a clatter, and it is no matter to us whether they find it in the morning or not. You had better follow me. I know every foot of the ground, and there are some nasty places, I can tell you."
They had to make several detours, to avoid ravines running deep into the plateau, and for a time Captain Holland walked very cautiously. When he had passed these, he stepped out briskly, and in less than an hour from starting they were near the edge of the precipice. Their eyes had, by this time, become accustomed to the darkness.
"We are just there now," Captain Holland said. "But we must go very cautiously, for the rock falls sheer away, without warning. Ah! There is the edge, a few yards ahead of me.
"Now, do you stay where you are, while I feel about for that spear head I put in to mark the place. It had about three feet of the staff on it. If it were not for that, there would be small chance of finding it. I know it is somewhere close here."
In a few minutes he returned to them.
"I have found it," he said. "Keep close behind me."
After walking for fifty yards, he stopped.
"Here it is, lads.
"Now give me those spears, Dick."
He thrust them firmly into the ground, a few inches apart.
"Throw your weight on them, too," he said. "That is right. Now they will stand many times the strain we shall put on them.
"I have chosen this place, Dick, for two reasons. In the first place, because it is the most perpendicular, and in the second, because the soil and grass project slightly over the edge of the rock. There is a cushion in that bundle, and four spear heads. I will peg it down close to the edge, and the rope will run easily over it.
"Now, Surajah, we had better let you down first. You will be tied quite securely, and there will be no risk whatever, as you know, of the rope giving way. I should advise you to keep your eyes shut, till you get to the bottom, for the rope will certainly twist round and round; but keep your arms well in front of you, and whenever you feel the rock, open your eyes, and send yourself off with your arms and legs. I don't think you will touch, for at this point it seemed to me, as I looked down, that the rock projects farther out than anywhere else on the face of the precipice, and that a stone dropped straight down would fall some fourteen or fifteen feet from its foot. Would you like me to bandage your eyes?"
"No, thank you. I will keep my eyes closed."
"That is the best thing you can do," Captain Holland said, "though it is so dark that you would not be able to see, if you did. When you get to the bottom, untie the rope, pull it gently down, and call out to me whether the lowest piece of stick touches the ground. If it does not, I will pull it up again and fasten on some more. I have got a dozen spare ones with me."
Captain Holland then told Surajah and Dick to take off their upper garments. These he wound round and round the lower four feet of the rope, increasing its diameter to over two inches.
"There," he said, as he fastened this round Surajah's body, under the arms. "It won't hurt you, now. That silk rope would have cut in an inch deep before you got to the bottom, if it had not been covered."
Then he took off his own garment, made it up into a roll, lashed one end to the rope in the centre of Surajah's back, passed it between his legs and fastened it to the knot at his chest.
"There," he said; "that will prevent any possibility of the thing slipping up over your shoulders, and will take a lot of the strain off your chest."
Then he lay down and crawled forward to the edge, pegged the cushion down, and then, turning to Surajah, said: "All is ready now."
Surajah had felt rather ashamed that all these precautions should be taken for him, while the others would have to rely solely upon their hands and feet, and, sternly repressing any sign of nervousness, he stepped forward to the side of Captain Holland.
"That is right," the captain said approvingly. "Now, lie down by my side, and work yourself backwards. Go over on one side of the cushion, for you might otherwise displace it. I will hold your wrists and let you over. Dick will hold the rope. I will put it fairly on the cushion. Then I shall take it and stand close to the edge, and pay it out gradually as you go down. If you should find any projecting piece of rock, call out 'Stop!' I will hold on at once. We can then talk over how we can best avoid the difficulty. When you are down, and I tell you Dick is coming, take hold of one of the steps, and hold the ladder as firmly as you can, so as to prevent it from swaying about.
"Now, are you ready?"
"Quite ready," Surajah said, in a firm voice.
Dick, who was standing five or six yards back, tightened the rope. Gradually he saw Surajah's figure disappear over the edge.
"Slack out a little bit," his father said. "That is right. I have got it over the cushion. Now hold it firmly until I am on my feet. That is right. Now pay it out gradually."
It seemed an endless time, to Dick, before his father exclaimed: "The strain is off! Thank God, he has got down all right!"
A minute later there was a slight pull on the rope, and the captain paid it out until he heard a call from below.
"Have you got to the lowest stick?" he asked, leaning over.
"Yes; it is just touching the ground."
"Not such a bad guess," the captain said, as he turned to Dick. "There are about twenty feet left."
He now fastened the rope round the spears in the ground.
"I will lower you down, if you like, Dick. You are half as heavy again as that young native, but I have no doubt that I can manage it."
"Not at all, Father. I am not a bit nervous about it. If it was light, I should not feel so sure of myself, for I might turn giddy; but there is no fear of my doing so now."
"Well, lad, it is as well to be on the safe side, and I manufactured this yesterday."
He put a loop, composed of a rope some four feet long, over Dick's shoulders and under his arms. To each end was attached a strong double hook, like two fingers.
"There, lad! Now, if you feel at all tired or shaky, all you have got to do is to hook this on to one of the steps. Do you see? One hook on each side of the cord. That way you can rest as long as you like, and then go on again. You say you can go down a rope with your hands only. I should advise you to do that, if you can, and not to use your legs unless you want to sit down on one of the long steps; for, as you know, if you use your feet the rope will go in till they are almost level with your head; while, if you use your arms only, it will hang straight down."
"I know, Father. And I don't suppose I shall have to rest at all, for these cross sticks make it ten times as easy as having to grip the rope only."
Dick laid himself down as Surajah had done, and crawled backwards until he was lying half over the edge. Then he seized the rope and began to descend, hand over hand. He counted the rungs as he went down, and half way he sat down on one of the long pieces, hitched the hooks on to the one above, and rested his arms. After a short pause, he continued until he reached the bottom.
The captain, who was stooping with his hand on the rope, felt the vibration cease, and as he leaned over he heard Dick call out: "I am all right, Father. Those bits of wood make easy work of it."
Then the captain at once began to descend, and was soon standing beside his son and Surajah.
"Thank God that job is finished! How do you both feel?"
"My arms feel as if they had done some work, Father. I have been four or five months without practice, or I should hardly have felt it."
"And how are you, Surajah?"
"I feel ashamed at having been let down like a baby, Captain Holland, and at being so nervous."
"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Captain Holland said. "Rope climbing is a thing that only comes with practice; and as to nervousness, most landsmen are afraid to trust themselves to a rope at all. Did you open your eyes?"
"Not once, Sahib. I kept my arms out, as you told me, but I did not touch anything. I could feel that I was spinning round and round, and was horribly frightened just at first. But I went down so smoothly and quietly that the feeling did not last long; for I knew that the rope was very strong, and as I did not touch anything, it seemed to me that there could be no fear of it being cut against the rock."
The clothes were soon unwound from the rope, and put on again. Captain Holland cut off all the slack of the rope, and made it into a coil.
"The slope is all right, as far as I could see from the top," he said; "but we may come across nasty bits again, and this will stand in useful, if we do."
They went down cautiously, but at a fair rate of speed; until, without meeting with any serious difficulty, they arrived on the plain. Four miles' brisk walking brought them to the grove where Ibrahim had been left, and they had scarce entered among the trees when he asked: "Who is it that is coming?"
"It is us, Ibrahim. We have got my father!"
Ibrahim gave an exclamation of joy, and a minute later they joined him.
"You were not asleep, then, Ibrahim?" Dick said.
"No, my lord. I have slept during the day, and watched at night; but I did not sleep yesterday, for I was growing sorely anxious, and had begun to fear that harm had befallen you."
"Well, let us be off at once. Of course, we have had to leave the horses behind us, and I want to be at Cenopatam by daybreak. We will buy horses there."
They struck across the country to the southwest, until they came on a road between Magree and Cenopatam, and arrived within sight of the latter town just at daybreak. As they walked, Dick and Surajah had, with no small amount of pain, removed their beards and the patches of hair.
"You ought both to have shaved before you put those things on," Captain Holland said, as they muttered exclamations of pain. "You see, cobbler's wax, or whatever it is, sticks to what little down there is on your cheeks and chin, and I don't wonder that it hurts horribly, pulling it off. If you had shaved first, you would not have felt any of that."
"I will remember that, Father, if I ever have to disguise myself again," Dick said. "I feel as if I were pulling the whole skin off my face."
The painful task was at last finished.
"I shall be glad to have a look at you in the morning, Dick," his father said, "so as to see what you are really like; of which I have not the least idea, at present. You must feel a deal more comfortable, now that you have got rid of the rope."
"I am, indeed. I am sure Surajah must be quite as much pleased at leaving his padding behind."
They stopped half a mile from the town, which was a place of considerable size. Dick took, from the saddlebag of the horse Ibrahim was leading, the bottle of liquid with which he was in the habit of renewing his staining every few days, and darkened his father's face and hands. Then they took off their costumes as merchants, and put on their peasants' attire. Dick directed Ibrahim to make a detour, so as to avoid the town and come down on the road half a mile beyond it, and there wait until they rejoined them--for his father was to accompany Ibrahim.
It was growing light as Dick and Surajah entered the town, and in half an hour the streets became alive with people. After some search, they found a man who had several horses to sell, and, after the proper amount of bargaining, they purchased three fairly good animals. Another half hour was occupied in procuring saddles and bridles, and, after riding through quiet streets to avoid questioning, they left the town, and soon rejoined their companions.
"Now, Surajah," Dick said, "we will be colonels again for a bit."
The saddlebags were again opened, and in a few minutes they were transformed.
"Why, where on earth did you get those uniforms?" Captain Holland asked, in surprise. "Those sashes are the signs that their wearers are officers of the Palace, for I have seen them more than once at Kistnagherry; and the badges are those of colonels. There is nothing like impudence, Dick, but it seems to me it would have been safer if you had been contented with sub-officers' uniforms."
Dick laughed.
"We are wearing them because we have a right to them," Dick laughed. "We are both colonels in Tippoo's army, and officers of the Palace--that is, we were so until a month ago, though I expect since then our names have been struck off their army list. I will tell you about it, as we ride."
"You had better tell me afterwards, Dick. I have never ridden a horse in my life, except when they were taking me from the coast to Mysore, and I shall have enough to do to keep my seat and attend to my steering, without trying to listen to you."
They rode all day, passed through Anicull and Oussoor, and halted for the night in a grove two or three miles farther on. They had not been questioned as, at a walk, they went through the town. Captain Holland had ridden behind with Ibrahim, and the latter had stopped and laid in a stock of provisions at Anicull.
"Thank goodness that is over!" Captain Holland said, as they dismounted. "I feel as if I had been beaten all over with sticks, and am as hungry as a hunter."
"Ibrahim will have some food ready in half an hour, Father, and I shall be glad of some myself. Though, you know, we all had some chupatties he bought."
"They were better than nothing, Dick, but a pancake or two does not go very far, with men who have been travelling since ten o'clock last night. Well, lad, I am glad that you have got rid of your beard, and that, except for that brown skin, I am able to have a look at you as you are. You will be bigger than I am, Dick--bigger by a good bit, I should say, and any father might be proud of you, much more so one who has been fetched out from a captivity from which he had given up all hope of escaping. As it is, lad, words can't tell how grateful I feel, to God, for giving me such a son."
"My dear Father, it is Mother's doing. It has been her plan, ever since she heard that you were wrecked, that we should come out here to find you, and she has had me regularly trained for it. I had masters for fencing and gymnastics, we always talked Hindustani when we were together, and she has encouraged me to fight with other boys, so that I should get strong and quick."
That evening by the fire, Dick told his father the whole story of his life since he had been in India.
"Well, my lad, you have done wonders," his father said, when he had finished; "and if I had as much enterprise and go as you have, I should have been out of this place years ago. But in the first place, I was very slow in picking up their lingo. You see, until within the last three or four years, there have always been other Englishmen with me. Of course we talked together, and as most of them were able to speak a little of the lingo, there was no occasion for me to learn it. Then I was always, from the first, when they saw that I was handy at all sorts of things, kept at odd jobs, and so got less chance of picking up the language than those who were employed in drilling, or who had nothing to do but talk to their guards. But most of all, I did not try to escape because I found that, if I did so, it would certainly cost my companions their lives. That was the way that scoundrel Tippoo kept us from making attempts to get off.
"Well, soon after the last of the other captives was murdered, we moved away to Kistnagherry, which was a very difficult place to escape from; and besides, very soon after we got there, I heard of the war with our people, and hoped that they would take the place. It was, as you may suppose, a terrible disappointment to me when they failed in their attack on it. Still, I hoped that they would finally thrash Tippoo, and that, somehow, I might get handed over to them. However, as you know, when peace was made, and Kistnagherry had to be given over, the governor got orders to evacuate it, without waiting for the English to come up to take possession.
"Well, since I have been at Savandroog, I have thought often of trying to get away. By the time I got there, I had learned to speak the language fairly enough to make my way across the country, and I have been living in hopes that, somehow or other, I might get possession of a rope long enough to let myself down the rocks. But, as I told you, I have never so much as seen one up there twenty feet long.
"I did think of gradually buying enough cotton cloth to twist up and make a rope of; but you see, when one has been years in captivity, one loses a lot of one's energy. If I had been worse off, I should have set about the thing in earnest; but you see, I was not badly treated at all. I was always doing odd carpentering jobs for the colonel and officers, and armourer's work at the guns. Any odd time I had over, I did jobs for the soldiers and their wives. I got a good many little presents, enough to keep me in decent clothes and decent food--if you can call the food you have up there decent--and to provide me with tobacco; so that, except that I was a prisoner, and for the thought of my wife and you, I had really nothing to grumble about, and was indeed better off than anyone in the fortress, except the officers. So you see, I just existed, always making up my mind that some day I should see a good chance of making my escape, but not really making any preparations towards casting off my moorings.
"Now, Dick, it must be past twelve o'clock, and I am dog tired. How far have we to ride tomorrow?"
"It is thirty-five miles from Oussoor to Kistnagherry, which will be far enough for us to go tomorrow, and then another five-and-twenty will take us down to Tripataly. As the horses have gone about forty miles, it would be a long journey for them to go right through tomorrow."
"I don't think I could do it, Dick, if they could. I expect I shall be stiffer tomorrow than I am now. Eager as I am to see your dear mother, I don't want to have to be lifted off my horse when I arrive there, almost speechless with fatigue."
The next day they rode on to Kistnagherry, passing a small frontier fort without question. They slept at the post house there, Dick and Surajah having removed their scarves and emblems of rank, as soon as they passed the frontier, in order to escape all inquiries. They started next morning at daybreak, and arrived within sight of Tripataly at ten o'clock.
"Now, Father, I will gallop on," Dick said. "I must break the news to Mother, before you arrive."
"Certainly, Dick," his father, who had scarcely spoken since they started, replied. "I have been feeling very anxious about it, all the morning; for though, as you tell me, she has never lost faith in my being alive, my return cannot but be a great shock to her."
Dick rode on, and on arriving at the palace was met in the courtyard by the Rajah, who was on the point of going out on horseback. He dismounted at once.
"I am truly glad to see you back, Dick, for your mother has been in a sad state of anxiety about you. Eight days ago, she started up from a nap she was taking, in the middle of the day, and burst out crying, saying that she was certain you were in some terrible danger, though whether you were killed or not she could not say. Since then she has been in a bad state. She has scarcely closed an eye, and has spent her whole time in walking restlessly up and down."
"It is quite true that I was in great danger, Uncle, and I am sorry indeed that she is in this state, for my coming home will be a shock to her; and she has an even greater one to bear. Surajah and I have rescued my father, and he will be here in a few minutes."
"I congratulate you," the Rajah said warmly. "That is news, indeed--news that I, for one, never expected to hear. It is simply marvellous, Dick. However, I am sure that your mother is not fit to bear it, at present. I will go up now, and tell Gholla to break your return gradually to her. I will say nothing about your father to your aunt. As soon as the news that you are here is broken, you must go to your mother. Tell her as little as possible. Pretend that you are hungry, and have a meal sent up, and persuade her to take some nourishment; then declare, positively, that you won't tell her anything about your adventures, until she has had a long sleep. Gholla will prepare a sleeping draught for her.
"In the meantime, I will ride off, directly I have seen my wife, to meet Surajah and your father, and bring him on here. I sha'n't tell anyone who he is, in case a chance word should come to your mother's ears. If she wakes up again this evening, and asks for you, you must judge for yourself whether to tell her anything, or to wait until morning. You might, perhaps, if she seems calm, gladden her with the news that, from what you have heard, you have very strong hopes that a prisoner in keeping at one of the hill forts is your father. Then, tomorrow morning, you can tell her the whole truth. Now I will run up to Gholla. There is no time to be lost."
"I shall be in the dining room, Uncle, when I am wanted."
A few minutes later, Gholla came in hastily.
"Your mother has fainted, Dick. I broke the news to her very gently, but it was too much for her, in her weak state. When she comes round again, and is able to talk, I will fetch you. In the meantime, I will send Annie in to you."
Two minutes later the girl ran in with a flushed face, threw herself into Dick's arms, and kissed him.
"I can't help it, Dick," she said, "so it is of no use your scolding me. This is a surprise. Who would have thought of your coming back so soon? But it is lucky you did. Your mother has been in a sad way, and she was so sure that you had been in some terrible danger, that I have been almost as anxious as she has. And now, it seems that I need not have frightened myself at all."
"I was in great danger, Annie. Just at the time my mother dreamt about me, Surajah, Ibrahim, and I were attacked by a party of Stranglers, disguised as merchants; and if it had not been that I had some strange suspicion of them, we should all have been murdered. As it was, we shot the whole gang, who, fortunately for us, had no firearms."
"It must have been your mother who warned you," Annie said gravely. "She told us that she dreamt you were in some terrible danger, though she could not remember what it was, and she tried with all her might to warn you."
"Perhaps it was that, Annie. I don't know why I suspected them so strongly--Surajah quite laughed at the idea. Anyhow, it saved our lives.
"And how are you getting on, Annie? Are you happy?"
"Oh, so happy!" she exclaimed. "At least, I was until your mother got ill, and I was working very hard at my lessons; but of course that has all been stopped, as far as taking them from her is concerned. But I have gone on working, and the Rajah's sons have been very good, and helped me sometimes, and I begin to read words of two letters. And what has brought you back so soon?"
"That I can't tell you yet, Annie. I will only tell you that it is not bad news; and no one but my uncle will know more than that, till I have told my mother--even my aunt won't hear it."
"Has Surajah come back too, Dick?"
"Yes; I heard horses in the courtyard just now, and I have no doubt it was him. I rode on first, being anxious to see my mother."
They chatted for a few minutes. Then the Rajah came to the door, and called Dick into the next room.
"I have settled your father in the room at the other end of the gallery, Dick. He agreed with me that it was better for him to keep there, by himself, until you have told your mother that he is here. I have just ordered a meal to be sent, and after that will send my barber in to shave him. He says your mother will never recognise him, with all that hair on his face. I am going to see if something cannot be done to take the stain off his face, and shall then set half a dozen tailors to work on some dark blue cloth, to turn him out a suit before tomorrow morning, in what he calls sailor fashion, so that he may appear before your mother in something like the style in which she remembers him."
A few minutes later Gholla came in, and said that Mrs. Holland was ready for Dick to go in to her. Dick found his mother looking pale and weak; but the joy of his coming had already brightened her eyes, and given a faint flush to her cheeks.
"I have been so dreadfully anxious, Dick," she said, after the first embrace. "I was certain you had been in some terrible danger."
"I have been, but thank God I escaped; owing, I think, to the warning Annie says you tried to give me. But we must not talk about that now. I will tell you all the story tomorrow. You are not fit to talk. You must take some broth, and some wine, and a sleeping draught; and I hope you will go off, and not wake up till tomorrow morning.
"Now, you do as I tell you. While you are drinking your broth, I will go in and take something to eat, for I have had nothing today, and am as hungry as a hunter. Then I will come back, and sit by you till you go off to sleep."
He was not long away, but he was met at the door by his aunt, who said: "She has gone off already, Dick. I have no doubt that she will sleep many hours, but if she wakes, I will let you know at once."
"If that is the case, Gholla," the Rajah, who had come in at the same moment, said, "I can let you into a secret, which no one but myself knows yet, but which, now that Margaret is asleep, can be told."
Gholla was very pleased when she heard the news, and Dick went off at once to his father. It was a great relief, to the latter, to know that his wife had gone off to sleep, and would probably be well enough to have the news broken to her in the morning.
"I hear that you are preparing for the meeting, Father, by getting yourself shaved, and having a blue cloth suit made?"
"Yes, Dick. I should like to be as much like my old self as possible."
"I don't think Mother will care much what you look like, Father. Still, it is very natural that you should want to get rid of all that hair."
"What bothers me, lad," Captain Holland went on, putting his hand to the back of his neck, "is this shaved spot here. Of course, with the turban on and the native rig, it was all right, but it will look a rum affair in English clothes."
Dick could not help laughing at his father's look of perplexity.
"Well, Father, it is just the same with myself. I have not changed yet, but when I do, the hair above, which is now tucked up under the turban, will be quite long enough to come down to the nape of the neck, and hide that bare place till the hair grows again."
"Yes; I did not think of that. My hair is long enough to come down over my shoulders. I was going to tell the barber to cut it short all over, but I will see now that he allows for that."
"Now, Father, do you mind my bringing in Annie Mansfield? I know she will be wanting to keep close to me all day, and I should never be able to get rid of her, without telling her about you."
"Bring her in by all means, Dick. She must be a plucky young girl, by what you said about her."
"Where have you been, Dick?" Annie inquired, when Dick went out a few minutes later. "I have been looking for you everywhere. Nobody had seen you, unless it was the Rajah. I asked him, and he said that little girls must not ask questions, and then laughed.
"You have not brought home another white girl?" she exclaimed suddenly.
"Would it not be very nice for you to have a companion, Annie?"
"No," she said sharply; "I should not like it at all."
"Well, I will take you in to see her, and I think you will like her.
"No; I am only joking," he broke off, as he saw tears start into her eyes. "It is not another girl. But you shall see for yourself."
He took her hand, and led her to his father's room.
"There, Annie, this is the gentleman who has come back with me this time."
Annie looked at Captain Holland in surprise, and then turned her eyes to Dick for an explanation.
"He is a respectable-looking old native, isn't he, Annie?"
"Yes, he looks respectable," Annie said gravely; "but he doesn't look very old. Why has he come down with you, Dick? He can't have been a slave."
"But I have, lass," the captain said, in English, to Annie's intense astonishment. "I have been in their hands a year or so longer than you were."
Annie turned impulsively to Dick, and grasped his arm.
"Oh, Dick," she said, in an excited whisper. "Is it--is it your father, after all?"
"Ay, lass," the captain answered for him. "I am the boy's father, and a happy father, too, as you may guess, at finding I have such a son. And I hear he has been a good friend to you, too."
"Oh, he has, he has indeed!" Annie cried, running forward and seizing his hands in both of hers. "I don't think there ever was anyone so kind and good."
"What bosh, Annie!" Dick exclaimed, almost crossly.
"Never mind what he says, my dear. You and I know all about it. Now we can do very well without him, for a time. He can go and tell his uncle and cousins all about his adventures, which, I have no doubt, they are dying to hear; and you and I can sit here, and exchange confidences until my barber comes. I don't look much like an Englishman now, but I hope that they will be able to get me something that will take this stain off my face."
Mrs. Holland did not wake till evening. She seemed very much better, and had a short chat with Dick. She would have got up, had he not told her that he should be going to bed himself, in a short time, and that all his story would keep very well until the morning, when he hoped to find her quite herself again.
By dint of the application of various unguents, and a vast amount of hard scrubbing, Captain Holland restored his face to its original hue.
"I look a bit sunburnt," he said, "but I have often come back, browner than this, from some of my voyages."
"You look quite like yourself, in your portrait at home, Father," Dick said. "It is the shaving and cutting your hair, even more than getting off the dye, that has made the difference. I don't think you look much older than you did then, except that there are a few grey hairs."
"I shall look better tomorrow, Dick, when I get these outlandish things off. I have been trying on my new suit, and I think it will do, first rate. Those clothes that you wore on board ship, and handed to them as a model, gave them the idea of what I wanted."
And indeed, the next morning, when Captain Holland appeared in his new suit, Dick declared that he looked just as if he had walked down from his picture. The ranee had agreed to break the news to Mrs. Holland, as soon as she was dressed. She came into the room where the others were waiting for breakfast, and said to Captain Holland: "Come. She knows all, and has borne it well."
She led him to the door of Mrs. Holland's room, and opened it. As he entered there was a cry of: "Oh Jack! My Jack!"
Then she closed it behind him, and left husband and wife together.
A few days afterwards, there was a family consultation.
"Now, Dick," his father said, "we must settle about your plans. You know we have decided upon going home, by the next ship, and taking Annie with us, without waiting for her father's letter. Of course I shall have no difficulty in finding out, when I get there, what his address is. I have promised your mother to give up the sea, and settle down again at Shadwell, where I can meet old friends and shall feel at home. We have had a long talk over what you said the other night, about your insisting that we should take the money those jewels of yours fetch. Well, we won't do that."
"Then I will sell them, Father," Dick said positively, "and give the money to a hospital!"
"I have not finished yet, Dick. We won't take all the money, but we have agreed that we will take a quarter of it. Of course, we could manage on my savings, as your mother did when I was away. We shall lose the little allowance the Company made her, but I shall buy a share in a ship with my money, which will bring in a good deal better rate of interest than she got for it in the funds, so we could still manage very well. Still, as we feel that it would please you, we agree to take a quarter of the money the jewels fetch; and that, with what I have, will give us an income well beyond our wants. So that is settled.
"Now, about yourself. I really don't think that you can do better than what you proposed, when we were talking of it yesterday. You would be like a fish out of water, in England, if you had nothing to occupy your time; and therefore can't do better than enter the Service here, and remain, at any rate, for a few years.
"As your commission was dated from the time you joined Lord Cornwallis, two and a half years ago, you won't be at the bottom of the tree, and while you are serving you will want no money here, and the interest of your capital will be accumulating. If I invest it in shipping for you, you will get eight or ten percent for it; and as I shall pick good ships, commanded by men I know, and will divide the money up in small shares, among half a dozen of them, there will be practically no risk--and of course the vessels will be insured. So that, at the end of ten years, by reinvesting the profits, your money will be more than doubled, and you will have a nice fortune when you choose to come home, even if the jewels do not fetch anything like what you expect."
A week later the party journeyed down to Madras, where they stayed for a fortnight. Dick, on his arrival, called upon the governor, who congratulated him most heartily when he heard that he had succeeded in finding and releasing his father, and at once appointed him to one of the native cavalry regiments; and his parents had the satisfaction of seeing him in uniform before they started. Annie showed but little interest in the thought of going to England, and being restored to her parents, being at the time too much distressed at parting from Dick to give any thought to other matters. But at last the goodbyes were all said, and, as the anchor was weighed, Dick returned on shore in a surf boat, and next day joined his regiment.
Surajah had wanted to accompany him to Madras, and to enlist in any regiment to which he might be appointed; and the assurance that it might be a long time before he became a native officer, as these were always chosen from the ranks, except in the case of raising new regiments, had little influence with him. The Rajah, however, had finally persuaded him to stay, by the argument that his father, who was now getting on in years, would sorely miss him; that the captain of the troop would also be retiring shortly; and that he should, as a reward for his faithful services to his nephew, appoint him to the command as soon as it was vacant. Ibrahim entered the Rajah's service, preferring that to soldiering.
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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21
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: Home.
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It was early in December, 1792, that Dick Holland joined his regiment, which was stationed at Madras. There were but five other officers, and Dick found, to his satisfaction, that the junior of them had had four years' service. Consequently, he did not step over any one's head, owing to his commission being dated nearly three years previously. As there were, in the garrison, many officers who had served on the general staff in the last war, Dick soon found some of his former acquaintances, and the story of his long search for his father, and its successful termination, soon spread, and gained for him a place in civil as well as military society.
The next year passed peacefully, and was an unusually quiet time in India. That Tippoo intended to renew the war, as soon as he was able, was well known to the government, and one of its chief objects of solicitude was the endeavour to counteract the secret negotiations that were constantly going on between him, the Nizam, and the Mahrattis.
Tippoo was known to have sent confidential messengers to all the great princes of India--even to the ruler of Afghanistan--inviting them to join the confederacy of the Mahrattis, the Nizam, and himself, to drive the English out of India altogether. Still greater cause for uneasiness was the alliance that Tippoo had endeavoured to make with the French, who, as he had learned, had gained great successes in Europe; and, believing from their account that their country was much stronger than England, he had sent envoys to the Mauritius, to propose an offensive and defensive alliance against England. The envoys had been politely received, and some of them had proceeded to France, where Tippoo's proposal had been accepted. They committed France, indeed, to nothing, as she was already at war with England; but the French were extremely glad to embrace the proposal of Tippoo, as they overrated his power, and believed that he would prove a formidable opponent to the English, and would necessitate the employment of additional troops and ships there, and so weaken England's power at home. To confirm the alliance, some sixty or seventy Frenchmen, mostly adventurers, were sent from the Mauritius as civil and military officers.
Tippoo's council had been strongly opposed to this step on his part. They had pointed out to him that their alliance, with a power at war with the English, would render war between the English and him inevitable; and that France was not in a position to aid them in any way. The only benefit, indeed, that he could gain, was the possibility that the fourteen thousand French troops, in the service of the Nizam, might revolt and come over to him; but even this was doubtful, as these were not troops belonging to the French government, but an independent body, raised and officered by adventurers, who might not be willing to imperil their own position, and interests, by embarking on a hazardous war at the orders of a far-distant government.
These events happened soon after Dick's return, but nothing was generally known of what was passing, although reports of Tippoo's proceedings had reached the government of India. The party of Frenchmen arrived at Seringapatam and were, at first, well received by Tippoo. But they had soon disgusted him by their assumption of dictatorial powers; while they, on their part, were disappointed at not receiving the emoluments and salaries they had expected. Most of them very speedily left his service. Some of the military men were employed at Bangalore, and other towns, in drilling the troops, and a few remained at Seringapatam, neglected by Tippoo, whose eyes were now open to the character of these adventurers. But this in no way shook his belief that he would obtain great aid from France, as he had received letters from official personages there, encouraging him to combine with other native powers, to drive the English out of India, and promising large aid in troops and ships.
When the Earl of Mornington--afterwards the Marquis of Wellesley--arrived at Calcutta as Governor General of India, in May 1798, the situation had become so critical that, although war had not been absolutely declared on either side, Tippoo's open alliance with the French rendered it certain that hostilities must commence ere long; and Lord Mornington lost no time in proceeding to make preparations for war. As Lord Cornwallis had done, he found the greatest difficulty in inducing the supine government of Madras to take any steps. They protested that, were they to make any show of activity, Tippoo would descend the ghauts, and at once ravage the whole country; and they declared that they had no force whatever that could withstand him. They continued in their cowardly inactivity until the governor general was forced to override their authority altogether, and take the matter into his own hands.
The first step was to curb the Nizam's power, for everything pointed to the probability that he intended to join Mysore, being inclined so to do by Tippoo's promises, and by the influence of the officers of the strong body of French troops in his service. Negotiations were therefore opened by Lord Mornington, who offered to guarantee the Nizam's dominions if he would join the English against Tippoo, and promised that after the war he should obtain a large share of the territory taken from Mysore.
The Nizam's position was a difficult one. On one side of him lay the dominions of his warlike and powerful neighbour, Tippoo. On the other he was exposed to the incursions of the Mahrattis, whose rising power was a constant threat to his safety. He had, moreover, to cope with a serious rebellion by his son, Ali Jah.
He was willing enough to obtain the guarantee of the English against aggressions by the Mahrattis, but he hesitated in complying with the preliminary demand that he should dispense with the French. The fighting powers of this body rendered them valuable auxiliaries, but he secretly feared them, and resented their pretensions; which pointed to the fact that, ere long, instead of being his servants, they might become his masters. When, therefore, the British government offered him a subsidiary force of six battalions, and to guarantee him against any further aggression by the Mahrattis, he accepted the proposal; but in a half-hearted way, that showed he could not be relied upon for any efficient assistance in disarming his French auxiliaries.
No time was lost, by the government, in marching the promised force to Hyderabad. The French, 14,000 strong, refused to disband, and were joined by the Nizam's household force, which was in the French interest. The Nizam, terrified at the prospect of a contest, the success of which was doubtful, abandoned the capital and took refuge in a fortress, there to await the issue of events; but positively refused to issue orders to the French to disband. Two of the English battalions, which were on the other side of the river to that on which the French were encamped, opened a destructive fire upon them, and with red-hot shot set fire to their magazines and storehouses, while the other four battalions moved into position to make a direct attack.
The Nizam now saw that he had no alternative but to declare openly for the French, or to dismiss them. He preferred the latter alternative. Peron, who commanded the French, saw that unless he surrendered, the position of his force was desperate. Accordingly, on receipt of the order, he and his officers expressed their readiness to accept their dismissal. Their men were, however, in a state of mutiny, and the officers were compelled to make their escape from the camp under cover of night. The next morning the camp was surrounded by the English and the troops of the Nizam, and the French then surrendered without a shot being fired.
While the Nizam was thus rendered powerless, negotiations had been going on with the Mahrattis; but owing to the quarrels and jealousies of their chiefs, nothing could be done with them. It was, however, apparent that, for the same reason, Tippoo would equally fail in his attempt to obtain their alliance against us, and that therefore it was with Mysore alone that we should have to deal.
In the meantime, though preparing for war, Lord Mornington was most anxious to avoid it. When Tippoo wrote to complain that some villages of his had been occupied by people from Coorg, the governor general ordered their immediate restoration to him. In November he sent the Sultan a friendly letter, pointing out that he could look for no efficient aid from France, and that any auxiliaries who might possibly join him would only introduce the principles of anarchy, and the hatred of all religion, that animated the whole French nation; that his alliance with them was really equivalent to a declaration of war against England; and, as he was unwilling to believe that Tippoo was actuated by unfriendly feelings, or desired to break the engagements of the treaty entered into with him, he offered to send an officer to Mysore to discuss any points upon which variance might have arisen, and to arrange a scheme that would be satisfactory to them both.
To this letter no answer was received for five weeks, by which time Lord Mornington had arrived at Madras. He then received a letter containing a tissue of the most palpable lies concerning Tippoo's dealings with the French. Two or three more letters passed, but as Tippoo's answers were all vague and evasive, the governor general issued a manifesto, on the 22nd of February, 1799, recapitulating all the grievances against Mysore, and declaring that, though the allies were prepared to repel any attack, they were equally anxious to effect an arrangement with him.
But Tippoo still believed that a large French army would speedily arrive. He had received letters from Buonaparte in person, written from Egypt, and saying that he had arrived on the borders of the Red Sea, "with an innumerable and invincible army, full of the desire to deliver you from the iron yoke of England." Tippoo well knew, also, that although the governor general spoke for himself and his allies, the Nizam was powerless to render any assistance to the English, and that the Mahrattis were far more likely to join him than they were to assist his foes.
The manifesto of Lord Mornington was speedily followed by action, for at the end of January an army of nearly 37,000 men had been assembled at Vellore. Of these some 20,000 were the Madras force. With them were the Nizam's army, nominally commanded by Meer Alum, but really by Colonel Wellesley--afterwards Duke of Wellington--who had with him his own regiment, the 33rd; 6,500 men under Colonel Dalrymple; 3,621 infantry, for the most part French troops who had re-enlisted under us; and 6000 regular and irregular horse.
Dick, who had now attained the rank of captain, had been introduced by one of Lord Cornwallis's old staff officers to General Harris, who, as general of the Madras army, was in command of the whole. On hearing of the services Dick had rendered in the last war, and that his perfect acquaintance with the language, and with the ground over which the army would pass, would enable him to be equally efficient on the present occasion, General Harris at once detached him from service with the regiment, and appointed him to a post on his own staff.
Had it not been that Dick had seen, for the last two years, that hostilities must ere long be commenced with Tippoo; he would, before this, have left the army and returned home. He was heartily tired of the long inaction. When the regiment was stationed at Madras, life was very pleasant; but a considerable portion of his time was spent at out stations, where the duties were very light, and there was nothing to break the monotony of camp life. He received letters regularly from his mother, who gave him full details of their home life.
The first that he received merely announced their safe arrival in England. The second was longer and more interesting. They had had no difficulty in discovering the address of Annie's father, and on writing to him, he had immediately come up to town. He had lost his wife, on his voyage home from India, and was overjoyed at the discovery of his daughter, and at her return to England.
"He is," Dick's mother wrote, "very much broken in health. Annie behaved very nicely. Poor child, it was only natural that, after what you did for her, and our being all that time with her, the thought of leaving us for her parent, of whom she had no recollection, was a great grief. However, I talked it over with her, many times, and pointed out to her that her first duty was to the father who had been so many years deprived of her, and that, although there was no reason why she should not manifest affection for us, she must not allow him to think, for a moment, that she was not as pleased to see him as he was to welcome her. She behaved beautifully when her father arrived, and when he had been in the house five minutes, and spoke of the death of his wife, his bitter regret that she had not lived to see Annie restored to them, the loneliness of his life and how it would be brightened now that she was again with him, his words so touched her that she threw herself into his arms, and sobbed out that she would do all she could to make his life happy. He had, of course, received the letter we had written to him from Tripataly, and quite pained me by the gratitude he showed for what he called my kindness to his daughter.
"He said that, by this post, he should write to endeavour to express some of his feelings to you. Annie went away with him the next day, to a place he has bought near Plymouth. He has promised to let us have her for a month, every year, and we have promised to go down for the same time, every summer, to stay with her. He asks numberless questions about you, which neither I nor Annie are ever tired of answering. Even with a mother's natural partiality, I must own that her descriptions are almost too flattering, and he must think that you are one of the most admirable of men.
"Next as to the jewels. Your father took them to be valued by several diamond merchants, and accepted the highest offer, which was 16,000 pounds, of which he has already invested twelve, in your name, in shares in six ships. Four of these are Indiamen. The other two are privateers. He said that he did not think you would object to a quarter of the money being put into a speculative venture, and that they were both good craft, well armed and well commanded, with strong crews; and would, if successful, earn as much in a year as a merchantman would in ten."
Since then the letters had been of a uniform character. The shares in the Indiamen were giving a good and steady return. The privateers had been very fortunate, and had captured some rich prizes. Annie had been up, or they had been down at Plymouth. The letters during the last three years had reported her as having grown into a young woman, and, as his mother declared, a very pretty one. After that the allusions to her were less frequent, but it was mentioned that she was as fond of them as ever, and that she was still unmarried.
"She always asks when you are coming home, Dick," Mrs. Holland said, in the last letter he had received before accompanying General Harris to Vellore. "I told her, of course, that your last letter said that war was certain with Tippoo; that you hoped, this time, to see Seringapatam taken and the tyrant's power broken; and that after it was over you would come home on leave and, perhaps, would not go out again."
During the six years that he had been in the army, Dick had very frequently been at Tripataly, as there was little difficulty in getting leave for a fortnight. His cousins had now grown up into young men, Surajah commanded the troop, and his stays there were always extremely pleasant. The troop now numbered two hundred, for with quiet times the population of the territory had largely increased, and the Rajah's income grown in proportion. The troop was now dressed in uniform, and in arms and discipline resembled the irregular cavalry in the Company's service, and when Dick arrived at Vellore he found his uncle and cousins there with their cavalry.
"I thought, Dick, of only sending the boys," the Rajah said, "but when the time came for them to start, I felt that I must go myself. We have suffered enough at the hands of Mysore, and I do hope to see Tippoo's capital taken, and his power of mischief put an end to, for good and all."
"I am glad, indeed, that you are coming, Uncle. You may be sure that, whenever I can get away from my duties with the general, I shall spend most of my time in your camp, though I must occasionally drop in on my own regiment."
The Rajah had already been down to Madras a month before, and with his sons had been introduced to General Harris, by the latter's chief of the staff, as having been always, like his father before him, a faithful ally of the English, and as having accompanied Lord Cornwallis on the occasion of the last campaign in Mysore. The general had thanked him, heartily, for his offer to place his two hundred cavalry at the disposal of the government, and had expressed a hope that he, as well as his sons, would accompany it in the field.
On the 11th of February, 1799, the army moved from Vellore, but instead of ascending by the pass of Amboor, as had been expected, it moved southwest, ascended the pass of Paliode, and on the 9th of March was established, without opposition, in Tippoo's territory, at a distance of eighty miles east of his capital. They then marched north, until they reached a village ten miles south of Bangalore. This route, although circuitous, was chosen, as the roads were better, the country more level, and cultivation much more general, affording far greater facilities for the collection of forage for the baggage animals.
Hitherto, nothing had been seen of the Mysorean army. It had been confidently expected that Tippoo would fight at least one great battle, to oppose their advance against his capital, but so far no signs had been seen of an enemy, and even the Mysore horse, which had played so conspicuous a part in the last campaign, in no way interfered with the advance of the army, or even with the foraging parties.
A despatch that reached them, by a circuitous route, explained why Tippoo had suffered them to advance so far unmolested. While the Madras army had advanced from the southeast, a Bombay force, 6,500 strong, was ascending the Western Ghauts. As the advance brigade, consisting of three native battalions, under Colonel Montresor, reached Sedaseer; Tippoo, with 12,000 of his best troops, fell upon it suddenly. His force had moved through the jungle, and attacked the brigade in front and rear.
Although thus surprised, by an enemy nearly six times their superior in force, the Sepoys behaved with a calmness and bravery that could not have been surpassed by veteran troops. Maintaining a steady front, they repulsed every attack, until a brigade, encamped eight miles in their rear, came up to their assistance; and Tippoo was then forced to retreat, having suffered a loss of 1,500 men, including many of his best officers.
This proof of the inferiority of his troops, even when enormously outnumbering the English, and fighting with all the advantages of surprise, profoundly impressed Tippoo, and from this time he appeared to regard the struggle as hopeless, and displayed no signs whatever of the dash and energy that had distinguished him, when leading one of the divisions of his father's army. He marched with his troops straight to Seringapatam, and then moved out with his whole force, to give battle to the main body of the invaders. The antagonists came within sight of each other at the village of Malavilly, thirty miles east of the capital. For some time an artillery fire on both sides was kept up. Gradually the infantry became engaged, and the Mysoreans showed both courage and steadiness, until a column of two thousand men moved forward to attack the 33rd Regiment.
The British troops reserved their fire, until the column was within fifty yards of them. Then they poured in a withering volley, and charged. The column fell back in disorder. General Floyd at once charged them, with five regiments of cavalry, sabred great numbers of them, and drove the remainder back in headlong rout. The whole British line then advanced, cheering loudly. The first line of Tippoo's army fell back upon its second, and the whole then marched away, at a speed that soon left the British infantry far behind them.
Instead of continuing his march straight upon the capital, General Harris, learning from spies that Tippoo had wasted the whole country along that line, moved southwest; collecting, as he went, great quantities of cattle, sheep, and goats, and an abundance of grain and forage; crossed the Cauvery at a ford at Sosilay; and, on the 5th of April, took up his position at a distance of two miles from the western face of the fort of Seringapatam.
This movement completely disconcerted Tippoo. He had imagined that the attack would, as on the previous occasion, take place on the northern side of the river, and had covered the approaches there with a series of additional fortifications, while on the other side he had done but little. So despondent was he, that he called together his principal officers, and said to them: "We have arrived at our last stage. What is your determination?"
His advisers took no brighter view of the prospect than he did himself. They had unanimously opposed the war, had warned Tippoo against trusting to the French, and had been adverse to measures that could but result in a fresh trial of strength with the English. The Sultan, however, while not attempting to combat their opinion, had gone on his own way, and his officers now saw their worst fears justified. They replied to his question: "Our determination is to die with you."
On the day after arriving before Seringapatam, the British attacked the villages and rocky eminences held by the enemy on the south side of the river, and drove them back under the shelter of their guns. General Floyd was sent, with the cavalry, to meet the Bombay force and escort it to Seringapatam. This was accomplished, and although the whole of the Mysore cavalry, and a strong force of infantry hovered round the column, they did not venture to engage it, and on the 14th the whole arrived at the camp before Seringapatam.
The Bombay force, which was commanded by General Stuart, crossed to the north bank of the river, and took up a position, there, which enabled them to take in flank the outlying works and trenches, with which Tippoo had hoped to prevent any attack upon the western angle of the fort, where the river was so shallow that it could be easily forded.
Tippoo now endeavoured to negotiate, and asked for a conference. General Harris returned an answer, enclosing the draft of a preliminary treaty, with which he had been supplied before starting. It demanded one half of Tippoo's territories, a payment of two millions sterling, and the delivery of four of his sons as hostages. Tippoo returned no reply, and on the 22nd the garrison made a vigorous sortie, and were only repulsed after several hours' fighting.
For the next five days, the batteries of the besiegers kept up a heavy fire, silenced every gun in the outlying works, and compelled their defenders to retire across the river into the fort. Tippoo now sank into such a state of despondency that he would listen to none of the proposals of his officers for strengthening the position, and would not even agree to the construction of a retrenchment, which would cut off the western angle of the fort, against which it was evident that the attack would be directed.
He knew that, if captured, there was little chance of his being permitted to continue to reign; and had, indeed, made that prospect more hopeless, by massacring all the English prisoners who had, by his order, been brought in from the hill forts throughout the country on his return to Seringapatam, after the repulse he had suffered in his attack on the Bombay force.
On the 2nd of May, the batteries opened on the wall of the fort, near its northwest angle; and so heavy was their fire that, by the evening of the 3rd, a breach of sixty yards long was effected. General Harris determined to assault on the following day. General Baird, who had, for four years, been a prisoner in Seringapatam, volunteered to lead the assault; and before daybreak 4,376 men took their places in the advance trenches, where they lay down.
It was determined that the assault should not be made until one o'clock, at which time Tippoo's troops, anticipating no attack, would be taking their food, and resting during the heat of the day. The troops who were to make the assault were divided into two columns which, after mounting the breach, were to turn right and left, fighting their way along the ramparts until they met at the other end. A powerful reserve, under Colonel Wellesley, was to support them after they had entered.
When the signal was given, the troops leapt from the trenches and, covered by the fire of the artillery, which at the same moment opened on the ramparts, dashed across the river, scaled the breach, and, in six minutes from the firing of the signal gun, planted the British flag on its crest.
Then the heads of the two columns at once started to fight their way along the ramparts. At first the resistance was slight. Surprised and panic stricken, the defenders of the strong works at this point offered but a feeble resistance. Some fled along the walls. Some ran down into the fort. Many threw themselves over the wall into the rocky bed of the river. The right column, in less than an hour, had won its way along the rampart to the eastern face of the fort; but the left column met with a desperate resistance, for as each point was carried, the enemy, constantly reinforced, made a fresh stand. Most of the officers who led the column were shot down, and so heavy was the fire that, several times, the advance was brought to a standstill.
It was not until the right column, making their way along the wall to the assistance of their comrades, took them in the rear, that the Mysoreans entirely lost heart. Taken between two fires, they speedily became a disorganised mass. Many hundreds were shot down, either in the fort or as, pouring out through the river gate, they endeavoured to cross the ford and escape to the north.
As soon as the whole rampart was captured, General Baird sent an officer with a flag of truce to the Palace, to offer protection to Tippoo and all its inmates, on condition of immediate surrender. Two of Tippoo's younger sons assured the officer that the Sultan was not in the Palace. The assurance was disbelieved, and, the princes being sent to the camp under a strong escort, the Palace was searched. The officer in command, on being strictly questioned, declared that Tippoo, who had in person commanded the defence made against the left column, had been wounded, and that he had heard he was lying in a gateway on the north side of the fort.
A search was immediately made, and the information proved correct. Tippoo was found lying there, not only wounded, but dead. He had indeed received several wounds, and was endeavouring to escape in his palanquin, when this had been upset by the rush of fugitives striving to make their way through the gate.
The gateway was, indeed, almost choked up with the bodies of those who had been either suffocated in the crush, or killed by their pursuers. On his palanquin being overturned, Tippoo had evidently risen to his feet, and had at the same moment been shot through the head by an English soldier, ignorant of his rank. In the evening he was buried with much state, by the side of his father, in the mausoleum of Lal Bang, at the eastern extremity of the island.
It was with great difficulty that, when the British soldiers became aware of the massacre of their countrymen, a few days before, they were restrained from taking vengeance upon his sons and the inmates of the Palace. In the assault, 8000 of the defenders were killed; while the loss of the British, during the siege and in the assault, amounted to 825 Europeans and 639 native troops. An enormous quantity of cannon, arms, and ammunition was captured, and the value of the treasure and jewels amounted to considerably over a million pounds, besides the doubtless large amount of jewels that had, in the first confusion, fallen into the hands of the soldiers.
As Dick, after the fighting had ceased, went, by order of the General, to examine the prisoners and ascertain their rank, his eye fell upon an old officer, whose arm hung useless by his side, broken by a musket ball. He went up to him, and held out his hand.
"Mirzah Mahomed Buckshy!" he exclaimed. "I am glad to meet you again, although sorry to see that you are wounded."
The officer looked at him, in surprise.
"You have spoken my name," he said, "but I do not know that we have ever met before."
"We have met twice. The first time I was, with a friend, dressed as one of Tippoo's officers, and came to examine the state of Savandroog. The second time we were dressed as merchants, and I succeeded in effecting the liberation of my father. Both times I received much kindness at your hands. But far more grateful am I to you for your goodness to my father, whose life you preserved.
"I see you still carry the pistols I left for you, and doubtless you also received the letter I placed with them."
"Thanks be to Allah," the old colonel said, "that we have thus met again! Truly I rejoiced, when my first anger that I had been fooled passed away, that your father had escaped, and that without my being able to blame myself for carelessness. Your letter to me completed my satisfaction, for I felt that Heaven had rightly rewarded the efforts of a son who had done so much, and risked his life for a father.
"Is he alive? Is he here? I should be glad to see him again; and indeed, I missed him sorely. I have been here for two years, having been appointed to a command among the troops here."
"My father is well, and is in England. He will, I know, be glad indeed to hear that I have met you, for he will ever retain a grateful remembrance of your kindness. Now I must finish my work here, and will then go to the general, and beg him to give me an order for your release."
An hour later Dick returned with the order, and carried Mahomed Buckshy off to the Rajah's camp. Here his arm was set by one of the surgeons, and he was so well cared for by the Rajah, Dick, and Surajah, that a fortnight later he was convalescent, and was able to join his wife in the town.
"I am thankful," he said, on leaving, "that my life as a soldier is over, and that I shall never more have to fight against the English. Tippoo was my master, but it is he who, by his cruelty and ambition, has brought ruin upon Mysore. I have saved enough to live in comfort for the rest of my life, and to its end I shall rejoice that I have again met the son of my friend Jack."
The capture of Seringapatam was followed, at once, by the entire submission of the whole country. A descendant of the old Rajah of Mysore was placed upon the throne. His rule was, however, but a nominal one. A very large amount of territory was annexed. The island of Seringapatam was permanently occupied as a British possession. The new rajah was bound to receive, and pay, a large military force for the defence of his territories; not to admit any European foreigners into his dominions; to allow the Company to garrison any fort in Mysore that might seem advisable to them; and to pay, at all times, attention to such advice as might be given him as to the administration of his affairs. He was, in fact, to be but a puppet, the British becoming the absolute rulers of Mysore.
The family of Tippoo, and the ladies of the harem, were removed to Vellore, where they were to receive a palace suitable to their former rank and expectations, and allowances amounting to 160,000 pounds a year.
Thus Mysore, one of the most ancient and powerful of the kingdoms of India, fell into the hands of the English, owing to the ambition, bigotry, and besotted cruelty of the son of a usurper.
Dick's part in all these operations had been a busy, although not a very dangerous one. The only share he had taken in the active fighting had been in the battle at Malavilly, where, having been sent with a message to Colonel Floyd, just before he led the cavalry to the assault of the column that had attacked the 33rd, he took his place by the side of the Rajah and his cousins, whose troop formed part of Floyd's command, and joined in the charge on the enemy. He had, however, rendered great services in the quartermasters' department, was very highly spoken of in the despatches of General Harris, and his name appeared, as promoted to the rank of major, in the list of honours promulgated by Lord Mornington, at the termination of the campaign.
His regiment was among those selected for the occupation of Mysore, and, a month after the capture of the city, he obtained leave to return to England. He stayed for a week at Tripataly, and then took an affectionate farewell of his uncle, the ranee, his cousins, and Surajah, and sailed from Madras a fortnight later. The ship in which he was a passenger was accompanied by two other Indiamen; and when, a fortnight out they encountered a French frigate; which, however, they beat off, and arrived in England without further adventure.
As soon as he landed, Dick drove to the house where his father and mother had taken up their residence, on their arrival in England; but he found to his surprise that, eight months before, they had moved to another, in the village of Hackney. He proceeded there, and found it to be a considerably larger one than that they had left, and standing in its own grounds, which were of some extent. He had written to them after the fall of Seringapatam, and told them that he should probably sail for England about six weeks later. As the vehicle drove to the door, his father and mother ran out. His father grasped his hand, and his mother threw her aims round his neck, with tears of joy.
As soon as the first greeting was over, Dick saw a young lady, in deep mourning, standing on the steps. He looked at her for a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed: "It is Annie Mansfield!"
Annie held out her hand, and laughed.
"We are both changed almost beyond recognition, Dick."
Then she added, demurely, "The last time, I had to ask you--" "You sha'n't have to ask me again, Annie," he said, giving her a hearty kiss. "My first impulse was to do it, but I did not know whether your sentiments on the subject had changed."
"I am not given to change," she said.
"Am I, Mrs. Holland?"
"I don't think you are, my dear. I think there is a little spice of obstinacy in your composition.
"But come in, Dick. Don't let us stand talking here at the door, when we have so much to say to each other."
He went into the sitting room with his father and mother, where Annie presently left them to themselves.
"Why, Father, the privateers must have done well, indeed!" Dick said, looking round the handsome room.
"I have nothing to grumble at, on that score, Dick, though they have not been so lucky the last two years. But it is not their profits that induced us to move here. You saw Annie was in mourning. Her father died, nearly a year ago, and at her earnest request, as he said in his will, appointed us her guardians until she came of age, which will be in a few months now. As he had no near relations, he left the whole of his property to her; and having been in India in the days when, under Warren Hastings, there were good pickings to be obtained, it amounted to a handsome fortune. She said that she should come and live with us, at any rate until she became of age; and as that house of ours, though a comfortable place, was hardly the sort of house for an heiress, she herself proposed that we should take a larger house between us.
"And so, here we are. We shall stay here through the winter, and then we are going down to her place at Plymouth for the summer. What we shall do, afterwards, is not settled. That must depend upon a variety of things."
"She has grown much prettier than I ever thought she would do," Dick said. "Of course, I knew she would have grown into a woman, but somehow I never realised it, until I saw her, and I believe I have always thought of her as being still the girl I carried off from Seringapatam."
In a few minutes Annie joined them, and the talk then turned upon India, and many questions were asked as to their friends at Tripataly.
"I suppose by this time, Annie--at least, I hope I may still call you Annie?"
"If you call me anything else, I shall not answer," she said indignantly.
"Well, I was going to say, I suppose you have got a good deal beyond words of two letters, now?"
"I regard the question as an impertinent one. I have even mastered geography; the meaning of which word you may remember, you explained to me; and I have a partial knowledge of history."
The next day Dick met an old friend, Ben Birket. Dick had kept his promise, and had written to him as soon as he returned to Tripataly with his father, and a few weeks after Captain Holland's return, his old shipmate came to see him and his wife. Ben had for some time thought of retiring, and he now left the sea, and settled down in a little cottage near. Captain Holland insisted upon settling a small pension upon him, and he was always a welcome guest at the house. His delight at Dick's return was extreme.
"I never thought you would do it, Master Dick, never for a moment, and when on coming home I got your letter, and found that the Captain and your mother were in England, it just knocked me foolish for a bit."
Three weeks later, Dick told Annie that he loved her. He spoke without any circumlocution, merely taking her hand one evening, when they happened to be alone together, and telling her so in plain words.
"I know nothing of women, Annie," he said, "or their ways. I have been bothering myself how to set about it, but though I don't know how to put it, I do know that I love you dearly. All these years I have been thinking about you--not like this, you know, but as the dear, plucky little girl of the old days."
"The little girl of old days, Dick," she said quietly, "is in no way changed. I think you know what I thought of you, then. I have never for a moment wavered. I gave you all the love of my heart, and you have had it ever since.
"Why, you silly boy," she said, with a laugh, a few minutes later, "I had begun to think that, just as I had to ask you for a kiss in the old times, and again when you met me, I should have to take this matter in hand. Why, I never thought of anything else. Directly I got old enough to look upon myself as a woman, and young men began to come to the house, I said to my dear father: "'It is of no use their coming here, Father. My mind has been made up for years, and I shall never change.'
"He knew at once what I meant. " 'I don't blame you, my dear,' he said. 'Of course, you are young at present, but he has won you fairly; and if he is at all like what you make him out to be, I could not leave you in better hands. He will be home in another three or four years, and I shall have the comfort of having you with me, until then. But you must not make too sure of it. He may fall in love out there. You know that there is plenty of society at Madras.'
"I laughed at the idea. " 'All the pretty ones either come out to be married, or get engaged on the voyage, or before they have been there a fortnight. I have no fear, Father, of his falling in love out there, though I don't say he might not when he gets home, for of course he thinks of me only as a little girl.' " 'Well, my dear,' he said, 'we will get him, and his father and mother, to come down as soon as he gets home. As you have made up your mind about it, it is only right that you should have the first chance.'
"It was not to be as he planned, Dick, but you see I have had the first chance, and it is well it was so, for no one can say how matters would have turned out, if I had not been on the spot. Do you know, Dick, I felt that when you rescued me from slavery, you became somehow straightway my lord and master. As you carried me that night before you, I said to myself I should always be your little slave; and you see, it has come quite true."
"I don't know about that, Annie. We are in England now, and there are no slaves. You will be the mistress now, and I your devoted servant."
"It will be as I say, Dick," she said tenderly. "I feel that, to the end of my life, I shall remain your willing slave."
There was nothing to prevent an early marriage. It was settled that Captain and Mrs. Holland should retain the house, which indeed they could well afford to do, and that Dick and Annie should reside there whenever they were in town, but that, as a rule, they would live at the estate her father had purchased, near Plymouth. Their means were ample, for during the eight years he was in the Service, Dick's 12,000 pounds had, as his father had predicted, doubled itself; and Annie's fortune was at least as large as his own.
Dick had good reason to bless, to the end of his life, his mother's plan; that had resulted in the double satisfaction of restoring his father to her, and in winning for himself the woman whom he ever regarded as the dearest and best wife in the world.
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{
"id": "18813"
}
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1
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THE DRURY FAMILY.
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It was a sweet spring day, soft and balmy as summer, and any one looking across the green meadows and smiling uplands of Hayslope, now so full of the promise of early fruitfulness, would have wondered what could make the farm-labourers appear so gloomy, and the women-folk sigh instead of singing at their work, if he knew nothing of what was going on a few miles away.
It was the year 1644, and for two long years civil war had been raging in England, and now two rival Parliaments were sitting, the one presided over by the King meeting at Oxford, while that in London was engaged upon the trial of Archbishop Laud, and levying war against the King, so that it was not to be wondered at that men looked gloomy and sorrowful, for they were dark, sad times for everybody.
Hayslope was a little village on the borders of Essex, but quite out of the high road usually taken by travellers going from London northward, so that when a young man came riding in towards the middle of the day, everybody turned from their work to look at him. They did not make a very close inspection before they raised their hats and cheered; but this greeting, pleasant as it was, scarcely brought a smile to his lips as he rode on up to the principal house in the place--Hayslope Grange. This was a large, rambling, roomy building, half farm-house, half mansion, standing in the midst of an old-fashioned garden, surrounded by fields, and enclosed with a moat. The moat was dry now, and had been for some years, and a permanent bridge of planks had been laid across, leading to the village; Master Drury would not have it filled up. "It might be useful yet," he would say, when his son Harry pressed him to make the alteration.
As the traveller reached the old moss-grown bridge he paused for a minute or two, and looked down at the broad deep trench. "God grant it never may be wanted," he murmured; and then he threw back his long brown curls that clustered round his head, and spurred his horse on at a quicker pace. He was a fine, tall, handsome young man, about twenty-two, with a thoughtful brow that would have made him look almost stern, but for the genial smile that played around his mouth, and the kindly eyes that looked as ready to cry as a girl's at a tale of suffering. Before he was half-way across the fields he was met with the glad cry of, "Harry, Harry, I am so glad you have come home!"
That he was a general favourite at home was evident enough, for his younger sister and brother received him with screams of delight, and his elder sister, Mary, forgot all her stateliness in the warmth of her welcome. Only one of the group walking in the fields failed to run forward to meet him--a fact Harry was not slow to notice.
"So Maud would not come to greet me," he said, holding out his hand when he reached the spot where she was standing. He had sprung from his horse, and left the animal to find his own way to the stable.
The young lady coloured and looked down as Harry stopped before her. "I am very glad to see you," she said.
"But not quite so glad as my sisters here," said Harry.
"I am not your sister," said Maud, hardly knowing what to say.
"Oh, Maud," muttered little Bessie, "Harry is as much your brother as he is mine. Why, you have lived with us all your life, and if your name does happen to be Maud Harcourt instead of Maud Drury, it does not matter. I'm sure you can love Harry just the same."
"Yes, so I can," said Maud, smiling, and feeling greatly relieved by Bessie's little passionate outburst.
But Harry looked rather disappointed still.
"I am afraid my return is not very welcome to you, Maud," he said, as he placed himself at her side to walk towards the house.
"Why?" she said, quickly, in a tone of pain.
"I don't know, only you don't seem glad to see me this time. You did not come to meet me as the others did," replied Harry.
Maud looked down, but did not answer; and indeed there was no opportunity to do so, for Bertram, thinking he had been neglected long enough, pressed forward to his brother's side.
"Have you seen Prince Rupert, Harry?" he asked.
The young man's brow grew dark at the question. "Don't ask about Prince Rupert, Bertie," he said.
"Why not?" exclaimed the boy. "He's a great soldier, come to fight the King's battles against the wicked Parliament men. Do tell me about him?" he added, coaxingly.
"Harry will tell us all by-and-by," said Mary. "You must remember, he has not seen father yet. Let us make haste indoors," she added, turning to Harry, who still kept close to Maud.
But Bertram was determined not to miss hearing of Prince Rupert's valorous deeds, and fearing this account would be given to his father alone, he took his brother's hand, resolving to keep close to him. Prince Rupert's name, however, was not mentioned, and indeed Harry seemed strangely reserved in speaking of public affairs; and, as soon as he could get away, wandered off to a copse-like corner of the garden, where he stayed until he was summoned to prayers, late in the evening.
He looked pale and agitated as he came in. The family were all assembled--his father at the head of the table, with the Bible open before him, and the maid-servants and serving-men at the other end of the room; and Harry felt that every eye was upon him as he took his accustomed place.
After the chapter was read they all knelt down, and then any one might know how deeply and truly Master Drury loved his King, although he rarely spoke of it at any other time. Now, however, the man's whole soul was poured out before God in impassioned pleading for his royal master, while his hatred of the Parliament and those who were leading the rebellion could only find expression in the words of David against his enemies. A deep "Amen" followed, uttered by every one in the room except Harry,--an omission that was noticed by more than one present.
"Harry was asleep," whispered Bessie, who had had some difficulty in keeping her own eyes open.
Maud, to whom this was confided, did not contradict the little girl, but she knew it was not so, and she wondered why Harry had not responded to what everybody must wish for, she thought--at least every true Englishman. No one saw anything of Harry after he left the room that night, and Maud did not see him until the following afternoon. She thought he was offended with her, and that this was the reason he kept away from everybody, and when she saw him leaning on the fence of the farm-yard, she determined to go and speak to him.
"I'm very sorry, Harry, if I have offended you," she said, as she drew near the spot.
Harry started. "Maud, Maud, what shall I do?" he said, impulsively, turning towards her and taking her hand.
Maud was only a year younger than himself, but she could not help feeling alarmed at his words.
"What is the matter?" she said. "Prithee, tell me all about what is troubling you."
But Harry shook his head, and tried to smile away her fears. "I have been wishing to be a chicken, and by my faith I do wish it too," he said.
"Marry, that is an old wish of mine," said Maud, trying to smile, but looking down as the colour stole into her cheeks.
"You wish to be a chicken!" uttered Harry in astonishment. "By my troth, I did not think you were so foolish, Maud."
"And wherefore not, wise sir? since you would nathless enter chickenhood."
But instead of replying in the same gay, bantering tone, Harry sighed deeply, and, still holding her hand, drew her into the field.
"It is quite true, Maud," he said. "I was actually wishing to be a chicken, or anything but what I am--Harry Drury, of Hayslope Grange."
"Prithee, now tell me wherefore you wished this," said Maud.
Harry had always told her his secrets since she first came, a little delicate girl, to live at the Grange.
"Now, marry, I can scarcely do that. But life is such a puzzle--such a tangle--men seem to be put in the wrong places."
"And you think you have one of the wrong places?" said Maud.
Harry nodded. "I am beginning to feel sure of it," he said, sadly.
"Then put yourself in the right place," said Maud, quickly, without in the least knowing to what he referred.
"By my faith, I cannot," he said, huskily.
"Cannot?" she uttered. "Cannot do right? Be truthful and just--true to yourself. Harry, you cannot mean you are afraid to do this?"
She thought she knew what was passing in his mind. He had been away from home for several weeks, in London and in the North, and she thought he longed to serve his King by taking up arms and joining actively in the fray. Her spirit stirred and swelled within her, as she almost wished that she, too, was a man, that she might follow him to the field and fight by his side.
"Harry, you will do it," she said; "you will be brave and true, and tell your father all that is passing in your mind."
Harry looked at her astonished, almost bewildered. "By my troth, Maud, this is more wonderful than anything else," he said.
"Marry, that _I_ should tell you to be true to yourself and your own conscience," said Maud, in a deeply injured tone.
"Nay, but I did not mean to grieve you, dearest Maud," said Harry; "but I did not think--I dared not hope--you would see matters as I do."
"But I do see, that, whatever the cost may be----" "Maud, the cost will not be half so great as I thought it half an hour since. I have your sympathy," interrupted Harry.
"But is your father _sure_ to oppose your wishes in this?" said Maud.
Harry looked at her in some perplexity. "Can you ask it?" he said, "when he----" "Yes, I know he refuses to take any public part in----" At this moment Maud was in her turn interrupted by Bessie rushing up to them with the announcement that a visitor had just arrived from London who desired to see Harry.
"It is a friend to whom I have spoken of the things we have been talking about," he said in a lower tone, to Maud; and finding Bessie was inclined to take his place by her side, he left them, and returned at once to the house.
"Has Harry been telling you about Prince Rupert?" asked Bessie, when they were left alone.
"No, dear," answered Maud; and then she relapsed into silence, for her thoughts were busy about Harry, and she wondered why he could be so afraid of mentioning his wish to become a soldier to his father.
Bessie waited a few minutes, and then she said,--"Has Harry told you anything about Prince Rupert, to-day, Maud?"
Maud smiled. "We have so often talked about Prince Rupert, you know, Bessie, that I think we have heard all Harry can tell us about his winning the King's battles for him," she said.
"Marry, but we have not, though," said Bessie, earnestly. "Harry told Bertie this morning that he was a fierce, cruel man, one of the greatest robbers that ever lived; and that he justly deserved the title the King's enemies had given him, 'Prince of Plunderers.'"
Maud looked down at the eager upturned face, feeling somewhat puzzled, but she thought Harry might have heard something that seemed to him very cruel--something that the great Prince had been obliged to do to save the King, perhaps, which yet had roused Harry's anger, feeling so keenly as he did for everybody's distress. At all events, Harry was right, and Prince Rupert was right too, she had no doubt, if things could only be explained; and in this way she contrived to silence Bessie, if she did not convince her; and the little girl went to tell Bertie that Maud did not think his soldier-hero a bad man after all; while Maud pursued her walk through the fields, indulging in very happy thoughts, in spite of the danger she was anticipating for Harry when he should join the King's army.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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2
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HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT.
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Gilbert Clayton, Harry's friend, was a stranger to the rest of the family; but Master Drury no sooner heard of his arrival than he invited him to stay as long as he pleased, or as long as his business would permit; and this was so warmly seconded by Harry, that young Clayton could not but remain. He was the more willing to do this, as he had been ordered by the doctors to leave London and reside in the country before joining the army again, for he had received a dangerous wound the previous summer in the battle of Chalgrove, where his kinsman, the brave and pious John Hampden, was mortally wounded. It was by talking of John Hampden that Harry first became acquainted with Gilbert Clayton, and now he wanted to hear more of him and the gentle Sir Bevil Granville, who had so bravely led on his pikemen at the battle of Lansdowne.
The talks about these heroes generally took place in the most quiet part of the garden; for Gilbert Clayton, knowing his host's political opinions differed from his own, was too courteous to bring forward the subject before him and his family. Master Drury himself rarely talked of public matters with any one, and loved his books and the quiet of his study too well to take any active part in such affairs; and he said he could help the King's cause more by his prayers than anything else; so the two young men were left to amuse themselves as they pleased, and by a sort of tacit understanding, these conversations were never carried on in the presence of Mary or Maud.
Master Drury's household was managed by his sister, an elderly lady, who looked after children and servants with the greatest watchfulness, lest a moment of their time should be wasted. It was the rule of the household that as soon as breakfast was over Mistress Mabel should take her place in the high-backed chair at the head of the table in the "keeping room," or general sitting-room, and with Bessie and Bertram on each side of her, at their lessons, a huge basket of work was brought to her side by one of the maids, and Mary and Maud were each set to work, making or mending garments for the family. Fancy-work was never heard of in those days, and Mistress Mabel would not have allowed any to be brought forward in her presence, if it had been. Sometimes, as a rare treat, when the lessons were well learned, a book was fetched from the library, not a story-book--that would have been a waste of time, according to this lady's rule--but a learned treatise on some abstruse science, which generally set Bessie and Bertram yawning, so that the reading was not much of a treat to them. Talking was not allowed from any one until the children's lessons were learned, and not greatly indulged in then. Later in the day, after the dairy had been visited and the kitchen inspected, the spinning-wheels were brought out, and the maids, who had finished their household and dairy work, were set down to spin.
Harry had escaped from his aunt's dominion now, but his idle life was a great eyesore to her, so that she took care no one else should share it. Under these circumstances it is easy to understand that, without at all intending it, a sort of suppression of what was really going on between the two young men took place when they were with the rest of the family. That Gilbert Clayton was as staunch a Cavalier as themselves was taken for granted; while he thought they fully understood his principles and the cause he was engaged in, and believed it was from refinement of feeling that the matter was never referred to in his presence.
That he was helping his friend to see that the cause of the Parliament was a just, honest cause, and one that must be espoused if civil and religious liberty were ever to be secured for England, he knew full well; but in doing this he believed he was only doing his duty, since Harry had come to him first to talk about these matters.
So the days and weeks went quietly on at Hayslope Grange, and the pure country air had so invigorated Gilbert Clayton that he began to talk of returning to London, to make preparations for joining Lord Kimbolton's army. Maud had heard that he was a soldier, and fully expected Harry would speak to his father, and go to London with his friend.
She felt rather jealous of young Clayton, if the truth must be told, for he quite monopolised Harry's society, so there had been no opportunity of resuming the conversation that his arrival had interrupted, or she might have discovered the mistake she had made. Hearing nothing of this, and the day for Clayton's departure being fixed, she determined to seek some opportunity of speaking to Harry. She was a noble, unselfish girl, and though she knew his going would cost her the bitterest pang she had ever felt, and be followed probably by weeks and months of anxious suspense and dread, she would not hold him back--nay, she would urge him to go at the call of duty, though all the sunshine of her life would depart when he went; for months might pass before she heard of him again, and he might be wounded, dying, or dead, and the tidings never reach Hayslope Grange.
News travelled slowly in those days, and in the unsettled state of affairs could not always be relied upon; but tidings reached Hayslope just now that the Parliament had seized the Archbishop of Canterbury, and his trial was now going on, the charges against him being that he had tried to subvert civil and religious liberty in England, had been the author of illegal and tyrannical proceedings in the court of Star Chamber, and had suppressed godly ministers and godly preaching.
But to the family at Hayslope Grange these charges were as nothing compared to the guilt the Parliament had incurred in seizing an anointed prelate.
Master Drury lifted up his hands in silent horror when he heard it, and Mistress Mabel burst into tears. The sight of their stern aunt crying seemed to make more impression upon Bessie and Bertram than the fate of the archbishop.
"Was he very wicked?" asked Bessie.
This was enough to drive back Mistress Mabel's tears. "Wicked!" she repeated, in anger. "Never let me hear you ask such a question about one of the Lord's anointed, Bessie, unless you would share in the sin of those who have laid violent hands upon him."
"It is sacrilege," uttered Master Drury, slowly and solemnly.
Mistress Mabel, who did not often talk, found her tongue now, and used it too, denouncing in the strongest terms the doings of the Parliament. "What is to be the end of this evil generation, that worketh such wickedness?" she said at last; and then, as if answering the query, went on, "The land shall be desolate, and all the people perish." Bessie and Bertram looked frightened. "What does that mean?" whispered the little girl; "won't the people in the village have anything to eat, because they are cruel to the archbishop?"
It was almost the first time any one at the Grange had thought of their poor neighbours, and the burden they were silently bearing under these great changes. Taxes were high, food was scarce, and many of the men had joined the King's army; but none of the Drurys had thought of these things except Harry, and it was the little scraps of news he heard in the village that first led him to doubt whether the royal cause were the just one.
He and Gilbert Clayton were absent when the news concerning the archbishop first reached Hayslope; but when they returned in the evening Harry knew that something had happened, by the look of anxious trouble on his father's face, and the querulous restlessness of his aunt.
"What is the matter, Mary?" he asked, in an anxious whisper.
But Mary only held up her finger warningly. "The servants are coming in," she murmured; and at the same moment Mistress Mabel placed the Bible in front of the high-backed chair at the head of the table, and Master Drury slowly took his seat.
Prayers for the King, Gilbert and Harry could both join in; for they hoped God would change his heart, and teach him that it was most unkingly to break his promises again and again, as he had done. But to-night it seemed that Master Drury could think of nothing but of the evil-doing of the Parliament in bringing the archbishop to trial; and he prayed that all their plans might be frustrated, the King brought back to his throne, and the archbishop restored to his charge; while those who had troubled them might be visited with dire calamities and afflictions.
His prayer was not concluded when Harry started from his knees and said, in a hoarse voice, "Stop, my father, I pray you; you know not for what you are asking."
All turned to look at him in silent, speechless wonder--all but Gilbert Clayton, who rose from his knees and laid his hand upon Harry's shoulder. "Come away," he whispered.
But Harry would not stir. "My father must not pray thus," he said, loud enough for any one to hear.
Master Drury and the rest slowly rose from their knees.
"Harry, my boy, you are ill," said the gentleman, in a tone of compassion.
"Prithee, now tell me where you have been racing all the day, to get your head so disordered," said Mistress Mabel; and she despatched Mary to her store closet for some herb tea for Harry to take at once.
"I don't want the herb tea, aunt," said Harry, in a clear, calm voice. "I am quite well; the sun has not affected my head, and I know quite well what I am about."
Aunt Mabel looked incredulous; but his father, losing the fear of illness, sat down in his chair, a dim feeling of a sorer trouble than this coming over him as he looked at Harry. "Sit down," he said, in a tone of command to the rest, who stood just as they had risen from their knees--"sit down and listen to the reason my son has to give for interrupting our godly exercise this evening." And he looked towards Harry as if waiting for his answer.
The young man instinctively drew a step nearer to Maud, as if mutely asking her sympathy and support; but she was looking down upon the oaken floor, utterly unable to comprehend what Harry could mean by this strange proceeding.
Harry seemed to feel that he had acted unwisely in yielding to his impulse; and he said, slowly, "Prithee, father, let me tell it to yourself alone."
"By my faith, that cannot be now, Harry," said Master Drury, energetically. "We have all been hindered in our devotions by your froward speech, and each has an equal right to hear your reason for it."
The men and maid-servants gathered at the end of the room pitied poor Harry in his confusion, and would have retreated, trusting to have their curiosity gratified afterwards by the tell-tale tongue of Bessie or Bertram; but Mistress Mabel's eye was upon them, and they knew they dared not go away.
Harry's face changed from an ashy whiteness to crimson as his father spoke, and then he went pale again as he said, "My father, do not force me to speak out now; let me go to your study, and I will tell you all that has been passing in my mind of late."
But Master Drury was inexorable when once he had made up his mind. "My son, we are waiting," was all he said in reply to Harry's entreaty.
Harry drew himself up, and casting a hasty glance at Maud's bowed figure, he said, "Father, I have resolved to cast in my lot with the patriots who are striving to rescue this country from the grasp of tyrants; they are not the evil-doers you think them. It is the King and archbishop and their advisers who are traitors, not the Parliament, or the brave, true men who are fighting for it."
He might have been hurried into saying much more, but at this moment Maud fell to the ground with a piercing shriek; and at the same instant Gilbert Clayton seized Harry's arm and dragged him from the room.
[Illustration: HARRY'S ANNOUNCEMENT.]
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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3
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TRAITOR OR HERO?
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The confusion and dismay into which the orderly household of Hayslope Grange was thrown by Harry's untimely and hasty confession baffles all description. Fainting among young ladies was not so common in those days, and the only orthodox remedy known to Mistress Mabel being burnt feathers, these had to be fetched from the poultry-yard, and singed at the kitchen fire, before anything else could be done for Maud, who still lay unconscious on the floor; while Bessie and Bertram, thinking of their aunt's words of the morning, cried and screamed, "Prithee, tell them to let the archbishop go; poor Maud will die if you don't!"
Clayton had some difficulty in keeping Harry outside the house, whither they had retreated when he heard that Maud was ill; but thinking that his presence would only add to the confusion in the keeping-room if he went in again, he prevailed upon him to remain where he was until Master Drury came out and fetched them both into the study.
His face was white and rigid, with such a look of helpless woe about the lines of his mouth that it touched Gilbert more deeply than the fiercest expression of anger could have done. Harry's misery seemed complete when he looked at his father's face in the dim light of the study lamp, and falling on his knees, he exclaimed-- "Oh, my father, forgive me!"
But his father drew back hastily from the outstretched hands.
"Rise from your knees, Harry Drury!" he said, sternly, "and tell me what you mean by the froward words you have this night spoken."
"My father, I spoke hastily and unadvisedly," said Harry, humbly. "I should have come to you alone, and confessed that my opinions of the King's doings had greatly changed of late, and begged your permission to join the army now fighting for the Parliament."
"And do you think I would have given it, traitor-caitiff?" said Master Drury, sternly.
"I have angered you," said Harry; "but, my father, you will suffer me to speak to you of this to-morrow, and hear me when I say that Gilbert Clayton here hath not sought to draw me to this way of thinking. I had some converse upon it with Mistress Maud before his arrival."
Master Drury glanced at Clayton suspiciously; he had not noticed his presence before.
"If you are clear of this thing, young man," he said, "you can abide here until the morning; but Harry Drury departs from Hayslope Grange this night."
[Illustration: HARRY DRIVEN FROM THE GRANGE.]
Harry started in blank astonishment.
"Marry then, where am I to tarry?" he said.
"That I know not; but traitors cannot abide under this honest roof, that has never sheltered any but true and loyal men since it was raised by Roger Drury ninety years ago."
"But, my father----" "Call me not by that name," interrupted the old man, "unless you are ready to return, and willing to do true and loyal service to your King and country."
"My country I am willing to serve; but, my father, this King is trying to enslave it," said Harry, earnestly.
"Prithee! what will you say next? But hold, I am not here to banter words with you. Will you enter the King's service, and fight his battles under Prince Rupert?" demanded Master Drury.
"Serve under that Prince of Plunderers? --never!" said Harry, in a determined tone.
"It is enough," said his father. "I give you this purse, which contains enough to keep you from starving for a few days, and for the rest you must look to yourself. You have no further part or lot in Hayslope Grange. I cast you off for ever."
But Harry did not attempt to touch the purse, which his father had placed on the table beside him. Throwing himself again on his knees, he begged his father to revoke the dreadful words he had just uttered.
"I will remain at home, and never again seek to serve the Parliament, if you forbid it," he said.
Master Drury looked down at him, and his lips quivered with emotion.
"Say you will renounce these new opinions and serve the King, and you are my son still," he said.
But Harry started back.
"Give up my principles! all that I have learned to see is just and true and honest! My father, you cannot ask me to do this?" said Harry.
"I ask you to give up all traitorous friendships, and return to your allegiance and duty to your King," said his father.
"But I should be a traitor to my conscience. I should sell my convictions of right and duty for your favour. My father, you would not have your son a slave?"
"I would that I had no son at all!" groaned the old man, covering his eyes with his hands.
"Forgive me, oh, forgive me the pain I have caused you, my father; and let me remain at home with you still; only don't ask me to be a traitor to my conscience!" implored Harry.
"I _ask_ you nothing," said Master Drury. "I _command_ you to swear this moment that you will enter the King's service without delay; and if you do not obey me, you leave this house at once, and I have no son from this night."
Harry slowly rose from his knees with bowed head.
"I cannot swear," he said. "I will serve my country, not sell her into the power of tyrants," and he turned to leave the room. But at the door he paused for a moment, and then turned back. "You will give me your blessing once more, my father, before I depart?" he said; and he would have knelt to receive it, but the old man waved him off.
"Leave me, leave me at once, lest I curse you!" he said, in a hoarse voice; and Harry, without glancing at the purse, which still lay on the table, retreated from that look of stern wrath which had settled on his face.
The two young men walked straight out into the fields, and for some time neither spoke; but at length Harry said,-- "What are we to do, Clayton?"
"We had better get round to the barn for to-night, and sleep there," replied Gilbert, "and then to-morrow you had better see your father again."
But Harry shook his head sadly.
"Marry, it will be of no use," he said.
"By my troth, I would try, though you cannot marvel that he is angry, speaking as you did," said Gilbert, warmly.
"Yes, I know I was wrong; but you do not know my father, Gilbert, or you would not advise me to thrust myself into his presence again for a while. No, no; I must go to London now, and seek my fortune there."
"But you will stay here to-night?" said his friend.
"Yes, to-night," sighed Harry; "for I must see Maud to-morrow."
Clayton hoped that Master Drury's anger might be somewhat appeased by the next day, and he resolved to see him, if possible, when he went to the house for his things, which in the hurry and confusion had been left behind.
Anxiety kept Harry awake as much as his strange quarters that night; but Clayton, who had many times slept out in the open field when upon the march, did not feel much inconvenience from sleeping on the barn floor. He awoke about the usual time, but would not stir, for fear of disturbing Harry. At length, however, one of the men pushed open the door, and not recognising the intruders, at once ordered them off in a loud, rough voice.
Harry started to his feet, crying, "Maud, Maud, I will save you!" and then rubbed his eyes to see if it was true that the man was staring and Gilbert laughing at him.
"Marry, but you have been dreaming," said Clayton, rising and stretching himself.
"Is it my young master?" uttered the man, slowly, as if scarcely able to believe the evidence of his eyes.
"Yes, it is me; Harry Drury," said Harry. "Have you heard how Mistress Maud is this morning?" he asked, anxiously.
"But sadly, I hear," said the man, shaking his head. "Marry, but 'tis a bad business, this, Master Harry," he added.
"Will you go and tell one of the maids to ask Mistress Maud to come to me?" said Harry, in a tone of impatience.
"Mistress Maud has not yet left her room," said the man. "I heard----" "Then go and ask if I can see her in the painted gallery," interrupted Harry. "Stop!" he cried, as the man was moving off; "you are not to go to Mistress Mabel, but ask Jane, or one of the other maids."
The man gave a knowing nod, and departed on his errand, determined to accomplish it too, for he had no doubt but that the visit to Maud was to ask her to intercede with Master Drury; and Harry being a general favourite with the servants, they had all felt sorry for his dilemma, although they did not understand it.
He slowly followed the man round to a small entrance at the side of the house, and presently the door opened and Jane beckoned him to enter. A staircase close to the door led direct to one end of the painted gallery, which was close to Maud's room, and here Harry sat down in the broad window-seat to wait her coming. He did not have to wait long. In a minute or two her chamber-door opened, and the young lady stepped into the gallery, looking very pale and sad, but almost as stern as Master Drury himself.
"Oh, Maud, forgive me!" burst forth Harry, starting forward when he saw her.
But she coldly waved him off.
"I have nothing to forgive," she said.
Harry paused in amazement.
"Prithee, tell me what is the matter," he said; "are you ill, Maud?"
"Prithee, no," said Maud, lightly (which was not quite the truth).
Harry advanced a step nearer, and Maud drew further back.
"Do not seek to touch me," she said, proudly. "I give not my hand to traitors."
"But I am not a traitor," said Harry. "I have followed your advice, and told my father I must go on in----" "Followed my advice!" repeated Maud. "By my faith, I never advised you!"
"Nay, nay, did you not understand me when I conversed with you?"
"I understand you now, Master Drury," interrupted Maud, "but I choose not to hold converse with a traitor;" and with a haughty gesture she turned and went into her own room, leaving Harry overwhelmed with surprise and distress.
He went down-stairs, and out of the little unused door into the sunny fields, without knowing where he was, and he wandered up and down, trying to collect his bewildered thoughts, and think over what had happened, until Gilbert Clayton overtook him.
He had collected the few belongings he brought with him to Hayslope Grange, and now carried them in his hand, but he had utterly failed in his mission to Master Drury. The old man was more bitter this morning than he had been the previous evening, and vowed he would never own his son again, unless he took service under King Charles.
"Let us get away from here as fast as we can," said Harry, as his friend joined him.
"Have you seen Mistress Maud?" asked Gilbert, hoping that she at least had spoken a word of comfort to him.
"Prithee, do not ask me," said Harry, in a hoarse voice. "I am an outcast from my father's house; every one spurns me."
"Say not so, Harry," said Gilbert, in a gentle tone. "Remember the word of the Lord, 'When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.'"
"But I know not that I have the right to that promise," said Harry, moodily.
"But you confess that you need it," said Gilbert.
"Yes, I need it," said Harry.
"Then Christ came to satisfy the needy, whatever their wants might be. He came to show us the love of the Father that it was inexhaustible, not like the love of earthly friends, which is often cold and changeful, but ever full, free, and unchangeable."
Harry sighed.
"I feel utterly desolate and deserted," he said.
"Then will you not go to Him who is waiting to take you up and adopt you into His family, and make you His son in Christ Jesus? He wishes to do so. He is waiting to be gracious."
"Go on," said Harry, when Gilbert paused. "I am listening; your words are like water to a thirsty soul;" and Gilbert went on until they reached the village, where Gilbert bought a loaf of rye bread, and after eating this, and drinking some water from the spring, they started on their journey to London; for although Gilbert was not a poor man, they had not much money with them, not enough to buy a horse, and stage-coaches were unheard of in those days.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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4
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CROMWELL'S IRONSIDES.
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Gilbert Clayton and Harry Drury kept on their weary tramp to London, and at length reached the little village of Whitechapel, which was outside the city walls. They had run some risks from highwaymen and footpads; but now they thought all danger was over, for they had almost reached their destination. But just as they were about to leave the village, a party of the King's pikemen rode in, and at once seized upon the travellers, to compel them to enter the King's service.
This was a dilemma neither of them had foreseen. To declare they were in favour of the Parliament would be the signal for their arrest as traitors to his Majesty; and to escape on any other pretext, without telling an actual lie, seemed equally impossible. Gilbert was seized first, and asked his name and condition. The latter was not easy to comply with, as he had left the army on account of his wounds, and was not at all sure that he should be received back again. He therefore gave his former occupation--a mercer of the city of London. Harry gave his as a farmer, for although he did not look much like one, he spoke of that being his occupation. After a few more questions had been asked and answered, they were marched off to the captain of the band, who began his examination by asking Harry his name.
"Drury!" he repeated. "Are you one of the Hayslope Drurys?"
"My father lives at Hayslope Grange," said Harry.
"Ay, a right true and trusty servant of the King's is Master Drury. I marvel that he has not sent you to do service for the King ere this," said the officer.
"My father meddleth not with public matters," said Harry, pondering what would come next.
"I trow not, I trow not," said the soldier, shaking his head; "but I must have a word with Master Drury on this same matter as I pass through the village, and I doubt not he will bid you wield your arms for King Charles after your visit to London. You may pursue your journey now, young man; but nathless you will speed your return, for the King needs trusty men to do him service in these troublous times. But we wish not to force our friends too much in this matter, therefore will I suffer you both to depart."
All the time he was speaking he eyed Gilbert most narrowly, as if trying to recall where he had seen that face before, as in truth he had, for they had met in the first battle fought between Charles and his Parliament, at Edgehill, on the borders of Warwickshire.
Gilbert remembered Captain Stanhope quite well, for he had been his prisoner for a little while, until an exchange of prisoners took place. Long illness had, however, altered Gilbert far more than the two years' campaign had altered the captain; and he rode away, thinking his eyes had played him false for once. Perhaps his being in the company of one whose family was known to be so strongly attached to the royal cause helped his escape; for he could not think it possible that a Drury would hold any intimacy with the Claytons.
"We have had a narrow escape, Harry, and we must not stay long in London," said Gilbert, as they left the village, and saw the soldiers ride out towards Essex; and then he told his companion of his former acquaintance with Captain Stanhope.
Harry could not help laughing, in spite of his sorrow, and quite agreed that their stay in London should be as short as possible. They would only stay a few hours to rest, to replenish their purses, and ascertain where Lieutenant Cromwell was now with his army, and then hasten to join him. The long tramp from Essex to London in the heat and dust had somewhat wearied Harry, unused to such exertion; but no sooner did he hear that horses had been provided, than he was anxious to start again, and they were soon on the great road leading to Yorkshire, where Lord Kimbolton and his lieutenant, Cromwell, were mustering their forces.
It was sad to pass along the edge of uncultivated fields in this bright summer weather; and yet, what encouragement was there for the farmer to plant or sow, when crops might be trodden down by the feet of horses and soldiers, or, if allowed to ripen, to see the grain cut down by that lawless Prince Rupert and his band of soldier-robbers. Truly the land might be said to mourn as well as the inhabitants, although as yet they had not reached the scene of actual strife.
Gilbert was anxious to reach his kinsman Cromwell as soon as possible, and so pressed on with all speed, making inquiries now and then at the villages where they slept, or of people they met on the road, as to the whereabouts of the two armies. It seems almost incredible in these days of rapid communication that this necessary intelligence could not be furnished in London, but that both forces lay somewhere in or near Yorkshire was the utmost Gilbert could learn about them.
[Illustration: A RIDE TO THE NORTH.]
The farther they travelled northwards the more people did they meet, and it soon became plain that these were many of them fugitives flying from impending ruin. The tales they told were of course conflicting, and in their fright and anxiety to escape and save their families, often confused. But Gilbert was able to make out that the Scots army, which had marched over the Border to the help of the Parliament, had been shut up in Sunderland by the Royalists under the Earl of Newcastle; but the Parliamentary forces under Fairfax coming to their relief, the Earl had retired to York, and the English and Scotch together had now laid siege to that city.
As they drew near to Yorkshire, evidence of the commotion became still more apparent. The roads were strewed with beds and bedding, and various articles of household furniture, which the fugitives had attempted to take with them, but afterwards had thrown away; for the rumour had gone abroad that Prince Rupert was coming, and enough had been heard of his atrocities in Cheshire and Lancashire to make the people dread his approach as they would the plague. At length, as they neared the besieged city, they heard that Lord Kimbolton's army was in the neighbourhood, and Gilbert was not long in discovering the encampment and seeking out Lieutenant Cromwell.
He warmly welcomed his young kinsman, and at once accepted his services and that of his companion. Harry Drury was not unused to arms. He had been taught fencing as a part of his education, and would use the singlestick, arquebus, and crossbow, while the fashion of every gentleman wearing a sword had rendered it necessary that this weapon should be handled skilfully. The necessary drill was therefore soon learned by Harry, and he was admitted to serve in the same corps as his friend.
Every addition to the army was welcome now, and the work of drilling the recruits went on all day, and often far into the night too. The life of a soldier here in Cromwell's camp was very different from the gay scene of revel he had sometimes heard the Royalist troopers describe. There was no rioting or drunkenness, no shouting or brawling, for these were sober-minded earnest men, who felt they had a real work to do, and sacrificed much in the doing of it. None had been forced to come here; but they had left home, and wife, and little ones, of their own accord, to fight their country's battles and set all England free. No wonder that they were earnest when they thought of the dear ones far away. They were not like the paid soldiers of the regular army; they could not afford to trifle and lose their time in play when they might be at work preparing for the battle; and so when not at drill, the cleaning of armour and furbishing of arms went on ceaselessly, and the clatter of this and the ring of the blacksmith's tools were broken only by the singing of some pious hymn or the voice of one reading to his comrade from the Word of Life. The day was begun and closed with prayer, and but for the tramp of the sentry, when once the word of command had been given that all work should cease, all the camp was as quiet and still, as a sleeping village.
Harry joyfully took his share of the labour going forward; he was willing to do anything, or bear any fatigue, to prepare himself to take part in the expected action when Prince Rupert should show himself. July was drawing near now, and they had almost reached the united armies besieging York, and it was expected that when Prince Rupert came into the field a battle would be fought. Scouts were sent out in all directions to give timely notice of his approach, but they were able to reach the forces of Fairfax before he came. But, however, only just in time. On the second of July, Prince Rupert came upon them by way of Marston Moor, but Kimbolton and his lieutenants were prepared for his coming.
A desperate battle was fought, and for some time it seemed that the Royalists must be victorious, for Prince Rupert fought with the most desperate bravery, driving several generals from the field, and thus disconcerting all their plans. He tried to do the same with Cromwell's cavalry, but they kept together like an iron phalanx, and all Rupert's dashing charges and feigned retreats failed to throw them into disorder. They were rightly named the Ironsides, for they kept the field and turned the tide of battle in favour of the Parliamentarians, and when once the Royalists saw that the day was lost their rout was complete. They retired from the field, leaving all their artillery, military stores, and baggage to the enemy.
The battle of Marston Moor decided the Royalist cause in the north. That was lost to Charles for ever, and there might well be hymns of rejoicing and solemn thanksgiving for the victory, for the cause of the Parliament had looked desperate enough only a short time before.
But in these rejoicings neither Gilbert nor Harry could take part. Gilbert had again been seriously wounded, and Harry, fighting by his side, had shared the same fate. The news was carried to Cromwell just as he was giving the last instructions to the messenger who was to bear the despatches to London giving information of the victory. "Clayton and young Drury of Hayslope wounded!" he repeated. "I will come and see them soon;" and then he went on giving instructions how Prince Rupert's retreating troops should be avoided, by the messenger taking an easterly course through Essex, instead of following the more direct road to London at the risk of being robbed. Cromwell was as clever a man of business as he was a soldier, and although the nominal head of the army was Lord Kimbolton, it was well known that the actual direction of affairs rested with his lieutenant, and all the men looked up to him as their leader. Cromwell's Ironsides, as his troops were now called, were everywhere spoken of as having gained the battle of Marston Moor, and he was daily rising into greater prominence, and was more frequently consulted as to the general direction of affairs.
But he did not forget his young kinsman lying sick and wounded. Provision had been made for this beforehand. Medicaments--hospital stores we should call them--had been secured, and now Cromwell went round to see those who had been carried from that awful battle-field where four thousand lay dead. Many an arm was raised when he was seen approaching, and many a feeble voice attempted to cheer; but Gilbert lay quiet and unconscious, while Harry was talking in the delirium of fever, moaning out the one name, "Maud, Maud!" or imploring his father's forgiveness.
Cromwell made particular inquiries into the case of each, and directed the doctors to let the two friends be as near to each other as possible when they were sensible, and this was the most he could do for them at present. The doctors could give no opinion as to their recovery yet, for they were both severely wounded; but Harry's case seemed the most dangerous, from the fever running so high.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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5
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MAUD HARCOURT.
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Mistress Mabel, with all her sternness, had some difficulty in parrying the children's questions about Harry, when they assembled in the keeping room the morning of his departure. Mary, too, felt anxious about her brother; but she dared not question her aunt as the children did; and from her answers to them little could be gathered beyond this, that Harry had disgraced himself through making unworthy friendships, and the children at once jumped to the conclusion that it was Gilbert Clayton to whom their aunt referred. Mary, however, indignantly repelled this insinuation. She had had several conversations with Clayton, and had learned to esteem him very highly, so that how Harry could have disgraced himself while with him, or what the wild words he had uttered the previous evening fully meant, she could not tell.
At dinner time Maud came down looking very pale but quite calm, until Master Drury, noticing that Harry's chair had been placed at the table as usual, ordered it to be carried away without mentioning his name, and said, "That seat will not be wanted again." Then Maud trembled with agitation, and Bertram asked quickly, "Where has brother Harry gone?"
"My boy, you have no brother," said Master Drury, coldly.
"Oh, Harry's dead!" screamed Bessie, pushing aside her pewter plate, and laying her head on the table in a burst of uncontrollable anguish.
Maud, however, knew that he was not dead, but without noticing Bessie's distress or Mary's look of mute agony, she rose from her seat, and walking round to the side of Master Drury, she said, "You will tell me where Harry has gone."
It was a demand rather than a question, and Mistress Mabel, as well as her brother, opened her eyes wide with astonishment on hearing it. "He has disgraced himself and all who bear his name," said the lady, quickly.
"Prithee, Maud, go and sit down," said Master Drury, tenderly.
But Maud shook her head. "You will tell me where Harry is, first," she said, still in the same quiet tone of command.
"I know not, unless he be travelling towards London with his false friend, who has turned his head with his stories of the traitor Parliament. He hath done this much; he confessed it to me this morning ere they departed," added Master Drury.
He thought this would satisfy Maud, and all questioning would be at an end now, but the young lady asked, "What did you mean, Master Drury, by saying Bertram had no brother now?"
Mistress Mabel looked horrified at the impertinence of the question, but Maud stood still and waited for an answer.
Calming his emotion with a violent effort, he turned to Maud and said, "By my faith, you should be thankful this day that you are not a Drury, to be disgraced by this traitor caitiff, who was my son. This must be the last time he is ever spoken of in this house, for I have renounced him--cast him off for ever; and you children must do the same," he said, turning towards Bertram and Bessie.
The little girl had dried her tears, and both sat with white frightened faces gazing at Maud and their father.
Maud staggered back to her seat and bowed her face in her hands, and the dinner went on in silence among those who cared to eat. Maud and Mary sat with their plates before them, but left the table without tasting anything, and as soon as they could escape went up to their own room.
Here Maud's firmness quite forsook her, and laying her head on Mary's shoulder, she burst into tears, moaning, "Oh, Mary, what shall I do? I cast him off as well."
Mary could not understand her. "I think you ought to be very glad you are not a Drury, to share in his disgrace," she said, with a sigh.
Maud lifted her face, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Glad!" she said; "nay, nay, I wish I were a Drury, that I might go and seek him now. Think of it, Mary; all have cast him off."
"He has disgraced us all," said Mary. "I have heard my father say it was his proudest boast that the Drurys had ever been true to the king and state, and never taken part with any riotous mob, and now Harry has dragged our family honour to the very dust. Everybody will know it soon, and every village wench will pity me because I am the sister of a traitor. I shall never hold up my head again," and Mary burst into tears at the picture of humiliation she had drawn.
[Illustration: "HE HAS DISGRACED US ALL!"]
Maud was quite incapable of understanding this self-pity, and seating herself at the little table by the window, she indulged her own self-reproachful thoughts on her conduct of the morning. She had no idea then that his father had treated him so harshly, or she would have been more tender, and her heart was sad as she thought of his words, that he must be true to his conscience.
But her musing was broken in upon by Mary saying, "It is so wicked, so wilful, to rebel against the King."
"But suppose he had to do this, or rebel against his conscience," said Maud, giving some expression to her own thoughts.
Mary started. "What can you mean? prithee, it cannot be right for us to rebel against the King?"
"Certainly not for us," said Maud. "But we are not to make ourselves a conscience to other people; and if Harry sees that serving the King would be wrong----" "But it cannot be wrong," interrupted Mary. "God's Word says, 'Fear God, honour the king.'"
"Yes, fearing God comes first," said Maud, but speaking more to herself than to Mary; "and it seems to me that it is out of this fear Harry has been led to adopt these new views. I can't see how they are right; but then I suppose living here in this quiet village, and having everything we want, we do not understand things as men do who go out into the world and learn what Acts of Parliament mean."
"Maud, you are half a traitor yourself," interrupted Mary, indignantly.
"Nay, nay, Mary! I am not that," said Maud. "I love the King, from what I have heard of his gentle courteous bearing and his loving care of his children; but even Master Drury denies not that he has oft-times broken his solemn promise, and 'tis said that his subsidies and exactions have well nigh ruined the nation."
"Maud, Maud! said I not that you were a traitor; and by my troth you must be, to speak thus of the King."
"Nay, I am no traitor. I would that I could speak to King Charles myself, and tell him how sorely grieved many of his subjects are at his want of truth and honest dealing," replied Maud, warmly.
"But the King cannot do evil," said Mary, in a tone of expostulation.
Maud put her hand to her forehead in some perplexity. "I know not what to think, sometimes," she said. "I like not to think it possible that the King can do wrong; but what am I to think when he breaks the Divine laws of truth and uprightness. He is not above these, if he is above those of the land, that he can make and unmake at his will."
"We have no business to think about such things at all," said Mary, impatiently.
"Marry, you may be right," answered Maud; "for women-folk have but little wit to the understanding of such weighty matters; but for men it is different, and that is why so many are carried away to the defending this rebellious Parliament, I trow."
"But they should not be carried away, now that they know how evil are its doings, and how it has laid violent hands on the Archbishop; and herein is Harry's sin the greater."
"Oh, say not so, Mary. Harry is right, I trow, although you and I see not how that may be," said Maud.
At this moment there was a knock at the door, and Bessie's tearful face appeared. Mistress Mabel had found it impossible to settle down to her usual spinning to-day, and telling the children she must look after the maids, to see they did not get gossiping about the family affairs, she had dismissed them.
"Oh, Maud, I have no brother Harry now," sobbed the little girl, throwing herself into her arms.
"But Harry is not dead," said Maud, smoothing back the tumbled hair from her hot forehead. "He has only gone away from home, and you can love him still."
"That's what Bertram says," sobbed the child; "but it isn't just the same; he was my brother before--my very own, and now"--and she burst into another passionate flood of tears.
"Prithee, now hush," said Maud. "Harry loves you all the same, I am sure, and you can love him; so that it need make no difference to you, Bessie."
"But it does make a difference," passionately exclaimed Bessie. "You said it did a little while ago."
Maud had forgotten the circumstance to which the girl referred, until she went on--"You said Harry was not your real brother, and now I am not his real sister. Has Harry got another name?" she suddenly asked.
Maud smiled, but Mary shook her head sorrowfully. "No, his name is Drury still," she said, "and he has disgraced it, Bessie--disgraced the good old name that you and I bear."
Bessie looked at Maud. "Are you glad your name is not Drury?" she said.
Maud shook her head. "I wish it was," she said, "and then I could make you understand better that I do not think Harry has disgraced it."
"Then it can be, can't it?" said Bessie, drying her tears.
"What, dear?"
"Drury. You can change your name, can't you?"
A momentary blush overspread Maud's pale face, but it quickly faded, and a sadder look than ever came into her eyes as she shook her head and said, "No, dear, I shall never change my name now." Then, seeing that her sadness had brought back the tears to Bessie's eyes, she asked where Bertram had gone.
"To look after Harry's horse," answered Bessie. "Aunt Mabel says it is to be his, now; but Bertram says he will never ride it, for it will be like robbing Harry."
"Suppose we go and look at Cavalier, too," said Maud. "He will miss his master almost as much as you do, Bessie," she added, trying to speak cheerfully.
They went through the painted gallery and out of the side door, as Harry went in the morning, the little girl wondering why they went that way. Bertram had sobbed out the first portion of his grief to his brother's dumb favourite, and now stood stroking its silky chestnut coat; but as Maud entered the paddock the noble creature pricked up its ears and gave a pleased whining of recognition.
"It is not Harry, Cavalier," said Bertram, sadly.
"Prithee, Cavalier is almost as fond of Maud as he is of Harry," said Bessie.
"Oh, Maud, then you have him," said Bertram, with a fresh burst of tears. "He is mine now, Aunt Mabel says; but I shall never be able to ride him, for thinking of Harry; but he'll like to have you on his back, and Harry will like it too, I know."
That Harry would like it Maud knew full well, but the appropriation of his things in this way she did not approve of at all; but Bertram's next words settled the matter.
"Aunt Mabel says Cavalier shall be sold, and a pony bought for me, if I don't like it; and I can't bear to part with Cavalier," sobbed the little boy.
"We won't part with it, Bertie," said Maud. "I will have Cavalier, and ride him every day, and I will buy you a pony instead, and you can ride with me."
Mistress Maud Harcourt possessed the sole right to a large fortune, and so she could do as she pleased in such a small matter as keeping a horse for her individual use. Mistress Mabel grumbled a little when she heard of this arrangement, but it did not alter matters, and in a few days Bertram's pony arrived.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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6
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THE HAYSLOPE WITCH.
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There had never been much communication between the villagers of Hayslope and the family living at the Grange. Mistress Mabel believed that the villagers existed solely for the convenience of the family, but never troubled herself to consider their wants or necessities, and brought up her niece Mary upon the same principle. Maud appeared to be of a similar opinion; but sharing Harry's confidence in everything, she knew he went about among his poorer neighbours, and began to take an interest in them herself, although not very actively.
Now, however, she determined to follow Harry's example, and take up his work; and, mounted on Cavalier, she went out the very next day to make inquiries after an old woman whom she knew Harry had often befriended. She inquired at the blacksmith's shed for Dame Coppins, but was surprised by the man coming to the door, and instead of pointing out the way to the cottage, saying, "We'll do it, Mistress Harcourt! We'll have justice on the old witch that's done the mischief!"
"What mischief?" asked Maud, in some surprise, patting Cavalier to make him stand still.
"What mischief should it be but sending away Master Harry Drury to the Parliament wars, as though the king hadn't had enough of the lads from Hayslope?"
"But this poor old woman did not send Harry away," said Maud, quickly.
"Marry, but she bewitched him. I see it with my own eyes," said the man. "If I had but known it then I'd have ducked her in the horse-pond, and broken the spell."
Maud shivered. The belief in witchcraft was universal then, and she began to fear whether Harry had been under Satanic influence. At length she said, "I should like to see this old woman, if she be a witch, and ask her where Master Harry has gone."
"Prithee, be not so venturesome, lest she send thee after him," said the blacksmith, in some consternation.
Maud thought this would not be so much of a calamity, perhaps, until the man added, "Nobody will ever hear aught of Master Harry again, and if thou dost go to the witch, thou wilt disappear too."
The young lady looked undecided when she heard this, but she could hardly restrain Cavalier from turning down a narrow lane close by, which the blacksmith observing, said, "Now, you may be sure mistress, that the old witch has worked her spells; for Cavalier there is under them, and is bidden by her to take thee to be bewitched too."
It seemed that the horse was determined to take her somewhere, whether she would or no, and the next minute was trotting down the lane, Maud scarcely knowing what to make of the proceeding. After trotting about half a mile he paused, and then turned in at a broken-down gateway, and walked up to the window of a cottage, where he stopped and looked round, as if telling Maud to dismount.
"The horse certainly is bewitched," said Maud, half aloud, determined not to move from her seat, and trying to turn Cavalier's head in the opposite direction.
But Cavalier seemed obstinately bent on looking in at the window, and would not move; and Maud's consternation was complete when the door slowly opened, and an old woman, leaning on a crutched stick, came hobbling out. She was in the presence of the witch herself, and, with a cry of horror, Maud dropped the reins and covered her face with her hands. Finding the witch did not attempt to drag her into the house, now that she had her in her power, Maud ventured to look up in a minute or two, and saw a venerable-looking old woman standing on the threshold, looking very pale and ill, and quite as frightened as she herself did.
[Illustration: DAME COPPINS.]
But the old woman was the first to recover herself, and she said, "You have come to tell me about Master Harry Drury? The Lord reward you for your kindness to a poor old woman."
Maud hardly knew what to say. She felt ashamed of her fright now, and yet an idea had entered her head that Cavalier could see Harry in the cottage, and she said, "Nay, but I have come to ask _you_ about Harry."
The poor old woman trembled visibly when she heard this. "Prithee, but I cannot tell you that," she said, speaking as calmly as she could. "I have not seen him these three days," she went on, "and sorely have I missed him, for not a word of the Book can I read now. He's been eyes to me ever since my own boy went away to fight for the King."
"What book did he read to you?" asked Maud.
"Marry, and what should it be but God's word?" said Dame Coppins. "It's been open at the place where he left off these three days, for it is sore hard to believe I sha'n't hear his voice again." Tears choked the old woman here, and Maud, quite forgetting her reputation as a witch, jumped off her horse, saying, "Shall I read a chapter for you, as Harry used?"
"Then it is true he's gone away?" said the old woman.
Maud nodded. The tears were in her eyes now. "We don't know where he has gone," she said.
"Poor lamb, it is a sore trial for you; but it will be worse for me, I trow," and the old woman sighed heavily.
"Why?" asked Maud, entering the cottage, where, on a little table lay a Bible open at the Gospel of St. John. There was nothing remarkable in this book, she knew, for she recognised it as an old one of Harry's, which they had read from together many times, until she gave him a new one on his birthday once, when the old one disappeared.
After she had read part of the sixth chapter, the old woman begged for a few verses more about the "mansions," and Maud read part of the fourteenth.
"I'll keep that in mind when the time comes," murmured the old woman; "and if I never see you again, Mistress Harcourt----" "But I will come and see you again," interrupted Maud.
The old woman shook her head. "It'll be all over soon; I couldn't bear it again," she said.
"What will be all over?" asked Maud. "You are not ill, are--at least, not very ill--not likely to die yet," she added, hastily.
"If I waited till the Lord called me by disease I'd may be wait a good while yet, for I'm strong when I'm well; but the people hereabout say I am a witch, and but for Master Harry I should have been tried before last night."
"Last night!" uttered Maud. "What did they do to you?" for she had lost all fear of her as a witch now.
The poor old creature looked round fearfully. "They did it," she said, "tried me for a witch. They took me to the horse-pond and ducked me, but there was not enough water to drown me. They'd have done it before if Master Harry had not been my protector, but now he is gone nothing will save me, for they say I've sent him away; as if I should want to lose my best friend," and the old woman burst into tears again.
Maud was indignant. "Prithee, do not be afraid," she said. "I will protect you, they shall not hurt you!"
For a minute the old woman looked up glad and grateful, but then she shook her head sadly. "You can't do it, they are coming again to-night," she said, "and the ill-usage will kill me;" and she pushed up the sleeve of her gown and showed how her arms were cut and bruised.
"You must be protected," said Maud, "it will be murder. I will go to Master Drury at once and tell him about it," and without waiting another minute, Maud mounted Cavalier and cantered up the lane.
At the top, clustered round the blacksmith's shed, were a group of soldiers, who made way for her to pass, but the blacksmith sprang forward and stopped her horse.
"These soldiers have seen Master Harry Drury Mistress Harcourt," he said.
"Then you will not repeat the cowardly attack on Dame Coppins, I trow!" said the young lady, burning with anger still.
The blacksmith drew back somewhat ashamed, and Maud, forgetting all else, turned to the soldiers and said, "Tell me where you met Master Harry Drury."
The man doffed his cap respectfully, for he could see Maud was a lady. "It was near by the gate of London," he said. "Our leader, Captain Stanhope, has now gone to the Grange, bearing tidings of it."
Maud urged Cavalier into a sharp canter when she left the soldiers, for she wished to be in time to hear the Captain's account of his meeting with Harry, which she was likely to lose for ever if not in time to hear it given to Master Drury. Captain Stanhope and his troopers had been to Hayslope before, and the Captain knowing the importance of his meeting with Harry, would be most likely to speak of it at supper time, when they were all assembled in the dining-hall.
Before supper, however, she wanted to consult Master Drury about protecting Dame Coppins from the village mob, and as soon as Cavalier had been left to Roger she went in search of that gentleman. But he was not in the study or the keeping-room, and thinking he must have gone out with Captain Stanhope, she went into the garden to watch for his return.
Walking noiselessly over the velvet turf, she was close to the quaintly-cut leafy screen that sheltered the arbour from the garden, when she heard voices close by, and some one say, "Then we are to arrest him as a traitor, wherever he may be found?"
"Yes," faintly answered Master Drury's voice.
Maud felt as though she were rooted to the spot. Could it be Harry they were talking of? All uncertainty about this was set aside by Master Drury's next words. "He has disgraced the family name by this, and I would you had taken him prisoner ere he entered London to finish his rebellion."
"That might not be, Master Drury, seeing I knew not wherefore he was journeying there," said Captain Stanhope.
Maud disdained to listen to what was not intended for her ears, and rapidly walked away in a tumult of passion against her guardian for his cruelty to his son.
When she entered the keeping-room Mistress Mabel and Mary looked up from their work of spinning, but she did not heed the command to come and sit down at her wheel with them. Passing up to her own room, she took out some warm wraps, and then went round to the stable in search of Roger, to whom she gave some directions about coming to the village with a basket of provisions a little later in the evening.
She then set out on her walk back to Dame Coppins' cottage, determined to stay there all night, and protect the old woman by her presence. She was likewise anxious to tell her of this fresh danger threatening Harry, for she was the only one to whom she could speak about it, and she knew the old woman would sympathise with her in her sorrow.
The poor old woman could give more than sympathy, she found she could give strength and comfort by her apt quotations from God's Word, for she herself had tasted sorrow and learned their power. Then they fell into a conversation about Harry, which lasted until Roger arrived with the basket, and a message from Master Drury that he and Captain Stanhope were coming to the cottage shortly.
Maud was not in a humour to thank either her guardian or the soldier for anything they might do now, but when they arrived she told them what had taken place the night before; and on the gentlemen promising to ride back to the village and make inquiries into the matter, to prevent its recurrence, she was obliged to promise to return to the Grange, upon Roger being sent down as a guard for Dame Coppins for this night. But she was very ungracious in her bearing towards the young soldier, although it was evident that he greatly wished to please her.
It was Captain Stanhope's business just now to get fresh men to recruit his Majesty's army, and he readily consented to Master Drury's proposition that he should make Hayslope Grange his head-quarters for the present. His men could be lodged in the village, and they could make short expeditions into the surrounding country in search of recruits, and thus business could be combined with pleasure on the part of the Captain, while it would afford the Royalist leaders a proof that Master Drury of the Grange was still a staunch Cavalier, should they hear of the defection of his son; and thus the matter was settled to the satisfaction of all parties--at least, all but Maud, and the arrangement vexed her exceedingly.
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{
"id": "19136"
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7
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THE REVEL.
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May-day had not been kept with its usual festivity at Hayslope this year, and so in this month of June it was proposed to have a junketing on the village green in honour of Captain Stanhope and his soldiers. Maud, and many another as sad-hearted as she, were in no humour for revelry when their dear ones were away at the war, and Bertram was quite indignant that Mary should wish it if Captain Stanhope did, and loudly declared he would not join in the fun. The horns of ale passed freely from hand to hand that day, and the soldiers kept up the excitement among the villagers by occasionally giving them a fanfare from their trumpets, drinking with them, and telling them stories of "glorious war." It had the desired effect. Before the night closed in half-a-dozen lads had enlisted, and among them Master Drury's trusty groom, Roger.
This was rather more than the gentleman had bargained for, and he was very angry when he heard it, but he could not say much to Captain Stanhope, lest the sincerity of his principles should be doubted. But it seemed that Roger was not the only prize the young soldier coveted, for the day following the revel he asked the hand of Mary Drury in marriage. Master Drury knew not what to say to this, for all the household had seen the marked attentions he paid to Maud--attentions which she repelled with cold disdain.
It had been remarked by many in the village that Mistress Harcourt had kept aloof as much as possible from the revelry. She had been obliged to come down with the family, but instead of joining in the sport, she went about among those who were on the outskirts of the crowd--the mothers with babies in their arms, widows, whose lives this civil war had made desolate, and sad-eyed maidens widowed already in heart and affection through the intolerance of King Charles. Among these, Maud had already made herself known, and now her rich robes of cherry-colour flowered satin might be seen in close neighbourhood with the blue serge and linsey-woolsey petticoats and linen jackets of her poorer neighbours. The children liked to look at her pretty dress--that of itself was a show to them--but the sad and sorrowful had began to love her for the kindly words and sympathy she gave them.
From these she heard that it was whispered she was likely to become Mistress Stanhope shortly--a rumour that annoyed her exceedingly. Captain Stanhope, it seems, had heard the same. Some one had ventured to remark that the bride-elect did not join the dancers, and he resolved to speak to Maud that very night, and ask her to become his wife, although he had received so little encouragement to hope for a favourable answer.
On his way back to the Grange, therefore, he contrived to join her, and in a few words begged her to favour his suit. Maud hardly knew whether to be angry or sorry, but she contrived to make him understand most clearly that it was useless to press her on that subject, and begged him not to allow any one else to know that he had asked her hand.
She need not have feared this. Captain Stanhope was too proud to let any one know of his rejection, and his chief annoyance arose from the fact that many had already seen and remarked his preference. Musing on this, he saw Mary and Bertram at a little distance, and the idea at once entered his head that this annoyance could be got over by at once proposing to Mary, when it would be thought he was only playing with Maud, while in reality he was attached to Mary. So he contrived to dismiss Bertram from his sister's side, and in a gentle tone begged her to walk in the garden with him; and then when they reached the arbour he made the same proposal as he had made to Maud but a few minutes before.
Mary was surprised, but pleased; not that she loved the young soldier, she had not thought of such a thing. But he was handsome, and could be a pleasant companion; and then she had felt herself so disgraced since Harry had gone away, that she would gladly exchange the name of Drury for Stanhope. She did not tell her lover this, she only said something about thinking he liked Maud best, on which he muttered that Maud was too proud and cold for him, when she shyly said he must speak to her father, when, if he gave his consent, she was willing to ratify it.
Master Drury hardly knew what to say when asked for his permission. In reality he felt the loss of his son more than he chose to own even to himself, and did not care to part with his eldest daughter just now, but he resolved to let Mary decide the matter; and so, telling Captain Stanhope that he should receive his answer in the evening, he sent for Mary.
The young lady blushed as she entered her father's presence, for she guessed what he wished to speak to her about.
"Prithee now, tell me truly Mary of this business with Captain Stanhope. Dost thou wish to leave the old Grange, my child?" he asked.
"I wish to change my name, father," said Mary, with a deep blush.
"And wherefore art thou so anxious about this?"
"Canst thou ask, when it has been so deeply disgraced?" said Mary.
The old man bowed his head. Truly his family pride was bearing bitter fruit, if he were to lose his children through it in this way. He saw that his daughter did not love the man that had sought her hand in marriage, and he did not believe that he loved her; but he was powerless to withhold his consent if Mary wished it, which she evidently did. "It will be better so, my father," she said. "The Stanhopes have ever been true and loyal, I have heard you say, and this marriage may help to wipe the traitor stain from our escutcheon."
"True, my daughter," said the old man, but it was said very sadly, for he knew it was not thus he had chosen her mother, or been accepted by her. But the matter seemed to have been settled by Mary without his interference, and he yielded rather than gave his consent when Captain Stanhope came again in the evening.
After leaving her father Mary went to inform Maud of what had taken place. She had expected some surprise, but not the look of blank astonishment with which her news was received.
"Mary, you cannot mean to do it," she uttered, as soon as she was able to speak.
"By my troth, I know not what you mean, Maud," said Mary, indignantly.
"Prithee, tell me it is not true, dear; that it is all a fable about your marrying Captain Stanhope," said Maud, soothingly.
"Marry, but it is true--true as that your name is Maud Harcourt," replied Mary.
Maud rose from her seat and paced up and down the room, and Mary, looking at her, could only think that she was disappointed. "Tell me, when did this take place?" said Maud, pausing in her walk and looking earnestly in Mary's face.
"Marry, but I know not why you should ask this question," said Mary, indignantly. "Did he propose to you?" she asked, in a tone of bitter sarcasm.
Maud blushed crimson and turned away, but only for a minute. "Tell me when he asked you this?" she cried. "Prithee, tell me, Mary. I wish not to vex you, but this I would know."
"Marry, you may know, it was last night," said Mary, speaking calmly.
"As he walked from the village?" asked Maud.
"Nay, in the garden, after Bertram had left me," said Mary. "I saw him walking with you from the village," she added.
"Then it must have been after I came indoors," said Maud.
Mary bowed her head. "Even so," she replied. Maud resumed her walk up and down the room, and Mary sat gazing at her until Maud came and threw herself on a cushion at her feet, and, forgetting the bitter words that had been spoken only a minute or two before, she stooped and kissed Mary's hands. This touched the proud girl's heart, and she said, "I hope I have not offended you, Maud."
"Prithee, no," said Maud. "But I want you to tell me, Mary, do you love this Captain Stanhope?" Mary drew back.
"Why do you ask this question?" she said.
"Marry, because I greatly fear he loves not you," said Maud, slowly.
"But tell me does he love you?" said Mary, in a tone of sarcasm.
Maud did not reply to this. She expected the young lady would be angry, but she was determined to do what she believed to be her duty. "Mary, sweetheart, we have been as sisters," she said, "and I would you knew how much I loved you; and by my faith, it is because of this I would bid you be not too hasty in binding yourself to this Captain Stanhope! It is pride, not love, that has made him seek you."
"Marry, then we are even," said Mary, with a bitter laugh. "I thank you, Mistress Maud, for telling me of this," she said, with a mock reverence, "for you have removed the last scruple I had in accepting him." Whether this was true, or whether the gay manner was only put on, Maud could not tell, but it made her very unhappy, and instead of going down to the keeping-room, to be watched by Mistress Mabel, she went to pay her usual visit to Dame Coppins at once, instead of later on in the day.
As she reached the blacksmith's corner she saw a little crowd gathered round, and heard the sound of women crying; and when she drew near she found it was the soldiers leaving with the spoil of the previous day's revel--the six men who had taken service for the King.
She had heard of it before she left home; but the thought that Roger might meet and fight against the young master whom he loved almost overcame her now, and she could hardly restrain her tears when the downcast-looking man ventured to say farewell as she was passing.
"Farewell Roger, and Godspeed to you, and quickly bring this war to a close, and you back to us. You will not forget to be kind to Master Harry if ever he should need it," added Maud; for it might be that as a royalist soldier Roger would have that power some day, she thought; and then she rode on down the lane, while the poor fellows who were going away bade wives and sisters cheer up and take example by Mistress Maud, whose lover would soon have to go to the wars too, for the villagers had quite settled the affair for Captain Stanhope to their own satisfaction.
As Maud went on to the cottage she wondered when the marriage was to take place between Mary and Captain Stanhope. It could not be for some time, she thought--not until this dreadful war was over, and then she sighed as she thought of the misery this was causing.
When she reached the cottage she found the old woman looking very weak and ill, and so feeble she could hardly speak. Maud was alarmed. "What is the matter," she said; "are you ill?"
The poor old creature shook her head--"Not ill," she gasped, "but, oh, so hungry." Maud ran to the cupboard; there was not a bit of anything in the shape of food, but a little pile of halfpence in one corner.
Maud took these into her hand. "Why did you not buy yourself a rye loaf?" she said. Dame Coppins shook her head. "They will not sell anything to me," she said.
It was true enough; the villagers had determined to starve out the witch if they could not drown her, and so every one had refused to supply her with food, until the poor creature was brought to the verge of starvation.
To remedy this, Maud now had either to bring the old woman's food from the Grange, or make her purchases herself in the village, so that a day seldom passed without her being seen near the blacksmith's shed.
One day when she was passing, a stranger rode up whose horse had lost a shoe, and he was obliged to stop to get the damage repaired. The man looked travel-stained and tired, and the blacksmith, with his usual love of gossip, wanted him to drink a horn of ale before he shod the horse.
"Nay, that may not be, friend blacksmith, for I bear tidings of weighty import. There has been a great battle in Yorkshire." Maud, pausing to speak to a child close by, heard these words.
"A battle, sir traveller: can you tell me aught about it?" she asked.
"Marry, and I should be able, seeing I was in it, and fought with Lieutenant Cromwell's Ironsides," said the man. "Is not this Hayslope?" he asked.
[Illustration: THE STRANGER AT THE SMITHY.]
The blacksmith nodded. "But we be all King Charles's men here," he said.
"Marry, that may be, so all who are here," said the traveller. "But one Harry Drury cometh from Hayslope, and he fought right bravely with the Parliament men at Marston Moor, and now lieth sorely wounded and grievously sick."
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{
"id": "19136"
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8
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BESSIE'S DISTRESS.
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Maud did not wait to hear anything more that the messenger had to tell; whether the Royalists had gained the victory or had to mourn defeat she did not know, and hardly cared. This one fact was enough for her; Harry was wounded--wounded and ill--perhaps dying among strangers. It might be he was prisoner even, and then an ignominious traitor's death awaited him. All the darkest possibilities of his fate rushed to her mind as she walked down the lane to the cottage.
Here her grief was shared by Dame Coppins, who hardly knew what to say to comfort her under such a trial, and could only point her to Him who, having "borne our griefs and carried our sorrows," can sympathise and comfort under the sorest trials.
On reaching the Grange, Maud found that the news had travelled thither before her--news of humiliation, that had put Captain Stanhope quite out of temper.
"By my faith, I cannot believe it!" he was saying, as Maud entered the keeping-room. "Prince Rupert defeated by that son of a brewer and his handful of sorry prentice lads? Master Drury, what think you is likely to happen, forsooth?"
"This varlet messenger, may be, is mistelling the news," said Master Drury, hoping it might be so, for he had thought the rebel troops well nigh crushed out.
Maud wondered whether he had heard the news concerning Harry, and looked across at Mistress Mabel, but that stern, impassive face told nothing, and Mary's, in its proud resolve, no more; and she dared not utter the forbidden name before so many, and so went in search of the children, to ascertain from them what news had come.
She saw in a moment that they had heard both items, for Bessie was sitting in a corner of the garden crying bitterly, while Bertram was marching up and down, telling her what he would do to rescue Harry when he was a man.
[Illustration: BESSIE'S GRIEF FOR HARRY.]
She sat down beside the little girl and tried to comfort her, but Bessie would not be comforted. "It's very kind of you, Maud," she sobbed, "but you are not Harry's sister--not a Drury, like Mary and I. If Mary would only be a little sorry for him, I shouldn't cry so much, but now he's only got me and Bertram to be sorry."
"Oh, Bessie, think you not that I am sorry, too?" said Maud.
"Yes, you are sorry, Maud, I know," said the little girl, hardly knowing how to express herself; "but you know you are not his sister, and so he won't expect you to cry for him."
"Marry, will he not," said Maud, scarce able to keep from laughing. "And will he expect you to cry for him a great deal?" asked Maud, as the tears broke out afresh.
"Mary won't," sobbed Bessie; and she seemed bent upon doing her sister's share for her.
Maud could not help shedding a few tears in company, and Bessie threw her arms round her neck and kissed her for them. At length Maud said, "If Harry does not expect me to cry for him, there is something else he will expect me to do, and that is to comfort his little sister;" and she took the little girl in her arms, and laid the hot tear-stained cheek against hers, and whispered gentle loving words, that soothed the troubled heart. It was just what Harry would have done--just what he would have her do, she knew, and she did it as though he were near and watching her.
For the next few days Captain Stanhope was in a restless state of impatience to ascertain whether the news brought to the village was correct, but they were not the days of newspapers, and an army might be within a few miles of Hayslope itself, and the inhabitants none the wiser; so it was not strange that he could hear nothing of the movements of an army away in Yorkshire.
But all suspense was at an end in a day or two. A messenger arrived bearing despatches for Captain Stanhope, and in them mention was made of the disastrous battle of Marston Moor. These despatches were commands for the Captain to collect all the men he had been able to get in his recruiting tour, and join the main body of the army in the west of England.
So Mary's marriage, which was to have taken place in a few weeks, had to be postponed until the autumn, or rather winter, for there could be no certainty of his returning to Hayslope until then. There was always a truce of a few months during winter. Wars could not be carried on regardless of weather, as they are now, and thus it was that they often lasted years.
After the departure of the Captain, life seemed to pass more slowly and monotonously than ever at Hayslope Grange. Out of the direct main road, strangers rarely came that way, and so little was known of how events were tending in the mortal strife going on so near them.
The trial of Archbishop Laud was still being carried on by the London Parliament; Oxford was supporting the King in the combat with his subjects, the north having yielded to Fairfax, the Parliamentary general. This was all the news that came to Hayslope through all the remaining days of July and the sultry weeks of August. No word came from Harry Drury, not a syllable that Maud was hungering to hear with a hunger that paled her cheek and was wasting her strength.
The harvest--what there was--had to be gathered in by women for the most part; and when Maud looked at these going out to their unwonted toil, a baby in one hand and a reaping-hook in the other, and thought of the burden of sorrow they had to carry as well, she reproached herself for weakly yielding to her grief; and yet it was hard to combat sometimes.
She had been compelled to rebel against Mistress Mabel's command to sit more closely to her spinning and sewing. Not that she disliked preparing Mary's house linen, but because she could not endure the scrutiny of those hard cold eyes, and to get away from them she did as Harry had done many a time before--mounted Cavalier, and cantered away miles over the fields, and then back to the village, to visit her friends there.
The months of September and October passed slowly enough, but about the middle of November Roger and a few of the other men came back to the village for the winter. It could not be said that they were not welcome, and yet provisions were now so dear, owing to the scanty harvest and heavy taxes, that every extra mouth to fill was felt as a heavy burden by their distressed families; and then, being winter time, there was scarcely any work they could do in the fields and gardens.
Maud had hoped that she should hear something of Harry when the men came back, and how much her returning health and strength had depended upon this she did not know until the hope was taken away and the faint sickening languor again stole over her frame. It might have grown upon her more than it did, but the wants of the poor people in the village, and the demands of Mistress Mabel, that she should assist in the preparations for Mary's wedding, left her very little time to spend in sitting alone and thinking of Harry.
Mary was to be married at Christmas, and go with Captain Stanhope to Oxford. The two seemed mutually pleased with each other, and quite satisfied with their bargain, but Maud could not tell whether they loved each other. She hoped they did, but Mary never gave her an opportunity of speaking upon this subject, and indeed the preparations for the coming event seemed to occupy her mind so fully that she had no thought for anything else.
This wedding afforded the villagers the most satisfaction, perhaps, for Master Drury was to give them an ox to be roasted on the green, and the prospect of a good dinner was very pleasant to them under the present circumstances. Captain Stanhope gave them a barrel of ale in which to drink his bride's health, but Mary seemed to think no one wanted anything but herself.
She packed up all the books and little trifles lying about that had belonged to Harry, and when Maud ventured to remonstrate with her about this, saying that Bertram would want them by-and-by if Harry did not return, she retorted, "Harry Drury never will return to this house, Maud, and Bertram will be expelled too if you continue to encourage him in thinking Harry right in what he has done."
Maud looked surprised. "What can you mean?" she exclaimed.
"Marry, nothing but what is true. You are teaching Bertram to think Harry right in rebelling against the King, and his father, too," retorted Mary.
"I do not think Harry is wrong in following the guidance of his conscience," said Maud, slowly; "but I have not sought to teach Bertram that Harry's way is right for him. I have only told him to keep the fear of God before his eyes, and follow the teaching of His Holy Spirit, as I believe Harry has done."
"And so you think it is this that has made Harry a traitor," said Mary, with rising anger.
"I don't think Harry is a traitor," said Maud, calmly. "It is the King who has----" "By my troth I will not listen to such dreadful words," interrupted Mary, and she went out of the room; but she evidently did not alter her opinion, for she confiscated to her own use every article that had formerly belonged to her brother.
After the wedding festivities were over, and Mistress Mary Stanhope had departed with her husband to Oxford, the house seemed more dull than ever, and Mistress Mabel more severe and exacting.
About the middle of January came news that thrilled every one with horror, and put Master Drury into a fever of mingled anger and sorrow. A man had stopped at the blacksmith's shed on his way from London, and brought the news that Archbishop Laud had been beheaded on Tower Hill the day before he left.
Mistress Mabel was speechless with indignation for a few minutes, and her first act was to take the bright cherry-coloured bow off Bessie's hair.
The little girl looked up in surprise, and saw her aunt taking the ruffles from her own neck and wrists. "This is not the time for such bravery as this," said the lady, looking angrily at the ribbons and ruffles. Bessie wondered what they had to do with it, while Mistress Mabel stood upright, watching her brother as he walked up and down the room, murmuring, "They have slain the Archbishop--murdered the Lord's anointed."
"For which all good Christians ought to fast and mourn," put in Mistress Mabel; "and I hope, brother, that you will see to it that your household is not lacking in this matter," she added.
"Nay, nay, I leave all such to you," said Master Drury; "order whatever is seemly at this time. I know not what has come to this evil-minded generation," he added.
"An evil generation they are, as you say," quoth Mistress Mabel. "Where will their iniquity end? They will put forth their hand against the King next, I trow."
Bertram and Bessie shivered at the bare idea of such a thing, and Maud, who felt she must say something in defence of the Parliament, said, "Nay, nay, Mistress Mabel, they will not put forth their hand against the King's majesty."
"But they will, I trow, if they have the power," said the lady. "And that God may rescue this nation from their hands, it behoves us to appear before Him in decent raiment of mourning at this time."
"Are we all to go into mourning?" asked Bessie, in some surprise.
"Would you be wearing ribbons and ruffles, and such light vanities at this time?" angrily demanded the lady.
Bessie looked down, feeling very much ashamed of herself, but hardly knowing how she had offended, until Bertram asked, "Will everybody wear mourning for the Archbishop, aunt?"
"Every honest Christian soul will nathless wish to do so," replied Mistress Mabel, with a severe look at Bessie.
The little girl felt the reproof, and when she went upstairs she put away all her bright ribbons and the gay dresses that had been worn at her sister's wedding. "I don't mind wearing the black hood and wimple, Maud," she said; "but then I thought people wore mourning because they felt sorry, and I can't feel so sorry about the Archbishop as I did about Harry going away."
"Of course not, dear, because----" "But aunt seems to think we ought," interrupted the little girl; "and father never looked so sorry about Harry as he did to-day about the Archbishop."
"Your father may not let us see how sorry he is about Harry," said Maud, "but I am sure he is often thinking of him."
Maud spoke of this as though she were sure it was so, as in truth she was. She had noticed a great alteration in her guardian lately. His hair was rapidly changing from brown to silver white, his tall erect form was bowed as with the weight of an added twenty years; and she thought with a keen pang that if Harry did not soon come he would never see his father again. And then arose the question, where was Harry? --for no news had come but that one voice from the battle-field, telling them he was sick and wounded.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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9
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THE WOUNDED MESSENGER.
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There was little fear that no fasts would be kept the month that the Archbishop was executed. So many were compelled to fast for want of food throughout England, that all the land might be said to mourn, although they did not put on the outward semblance of it, as Mistress Mabel did.
Just as the men were thinking of leaving their homes again in the early spring, came a faint rumour that peace might be established, and many a heart beat high with hope that the commissioners who were to meet at Uxbridge, and negotiate a reconciliation between the King and his people, might be able to conclude terms of adjustment satisfactory to both parties. Maud felt sure that peace would be established at last when she heard the news, and Bertram asked her in a whisper if Harry would come home then; but to this question she could only shake her head and look up at the clouds racing across the stormy February sky, and think that Harry had probably gone to the Father's home where ambition and injustice could never mar the peace of the one great family.
She had come to this conclusion, because she thought if he were living he would surely have tried to see or communicate with his father before this, in spite of what had happened.
The meeting at Uxbridge took place just as the first spring blossoms began to whisper that the earth was not the cold, lifeless thing it looked; that God had not forgotten the seeds in the time of their darkness, but that out of this He had made them spring forth, and through this He had made them strong. Thus thinking as she walked through the fields, Maud sometimes wondered whether these dark times was England's winter, out of which righteousness and truth would spring, and be more strong for the struggle they had endured. Of course to her this meant that the people would return to the King, and be more firm in their allegiance than ever, and she hoped that the first promise of such a result had already taken place.
But alas, for her, and the hopes of thousands like her, who had to endure silently, and witness misery they could not alleviate! the commission broke up without anything being done, and men were hurried from their homes to take up the sword, leaving the plough to be guided by women's hands. Roger and the rest of his companions again left Hayslope, and Maud went in and out and tried to comfort the women for their loss.
Master Drury seemed to feel the failure of the Uxbridge commission most keenly, although he did not say much about it; yet even Mistress Mabel could not fail to notice the whitening hair and the failing strength of her brother, and spoke to Maud about it too. She had noted the change long since, and now she felt sure that secret grief for Harry was preying upon her guardian's heart, and bowing him down with premature old age, and yet she dare not mention the name it would have been a relief for both to utter and to hear spoken.
So the spring passed into summer without any outward change at Hayslope Grange, except a short visit from Mistress Mary Stanhope. At the end of June came tidings of a battle that had been fought a fortnight before at Naseby, in Northamptonshire, where the King's army had been completely defeated, leaving on the field five thousand prisoners, an immense quantity of war material; and what was worse than all for the Royalists, the King's private cabinet of papers and letters was captured. This news came from Captain Stanhope, who had himself barely escaped being taken prisoner by Cromwell's Ironsides, and had got back to Oxford without even his sword.
This news seemed to affect Master Drury most deeply, and one day he suddenly announced to Mistress Mabel that he should join the royal troops and fight for King Charles. The lady looked as if she had not heard aright, and said something about herb tea and going to bed; but Master Drury silenced her by taking down his sword from where it hung against the wall, and ordering one of the servants to fetch his jack-boots.
[Illustration: MASTER DRURY TAKES DOWN HIS SWORD.]
"Marry, but you are not going to the King now," said Mistress Mabel, in affright.
"I am going to Oxford," calmly spoke Master Drury; and during the remainder of the day he was occupied in making preparations for his departure.
When Mistress Mabel found her brother was bent upon leaving them, and fully determined to join the army, she suddenly professed to be in great fear of the Parliament gaining all England, and begged her brother to remain and protect them--have the moat filled at once, and barricades placed round the house, for fear of an attack from Cromwell's army; for Cromwell's name began to be the more prominent now, although Fairfax was the commander-in-chief.
But Master Drury shook his head. "Cromwell will never come into Essex," he said. "You forget King Charles has the Divine right to this land and its people. He will be the more firmly seated on his throne by-and-by for these troubles," he added.
Before his departure he spoke to Maud, bidding her come to him at Oxford if anything happened needing his presence at home. She could ride well now, he said, and Cavalier could bring her the whole journey.
Maud looked almost as surprised to hear this as Mistress Mabel had done when her brother first announced his intention of joining the army, for she had never been to Oxford in her life, and travelling was not very safe even for a man now Prince Rupert's wild troopers were about. But she felt thankful for the permission to do this, though at the same time she hoped that she should not need it.
Harvest-time was drawing near again now, and Mistress Mabel was more busy than ever among the maids, and Maud spent all her time between the two children and the village. Sometimes Bessie and Bertram went with her on her visits of charity, and one or other occasionally read to Dame Coppins from Harry's old Bible, or listened while the old woman told them some story of his kindness to her. One day as they were returning from a visit to the cottage, they were startled to see a crowd of women gathered round the blacksmith's shed, and Bertram, in his usual impetuous fashion, ran forward to see what was the matter. Maud was mounted on Cavalier, and Bessie on her brother's pony, while Bertram, being on foot, managed to edge himself to the front of the little crowd, and presently came running back, crying, "Maud, Maud, the man is dying! somebody has been beating him." Several of the women were coming towards her by this time, and she sprang from her horse and stepped forward to meet them.
"Prithee, what is the matter?" she asked, seeing their anxious faces. "Is the poor man much hurt?"
"By my faith, I think he's dying; but he says he _must_ get to Oxford first, to deliver up some papers he is bearing to the King," said one of the women.
"And what saith the blacksmith to his going on his journey?" asked Maud.
"That he will not live an hour with the wound he has received in his side. Nought but keeping him quite still, as well as careful dressing, will stanch the bleeding, Martin says, and he knows of such matters."
"Then he must not suffer the poor man to depart," said Maud, in the tone of one accustomed to be obeyed, as she stepped up to the blacksmith. She spoke loud enough for the stranger to hear, as she had intended; but he feebly shook his head, while Martin completed the temporary bandaging of his wound.
"Marry, stranger, you had better tarry here awhile, for your life will pay for this journey if you do not," said the blacksmith.
"Nay, nay, I must away to Oxford. I have been sore hindered already, and lives more valuable than mine depend upon the speedy delivery of these papers;" and as he spoke he attempted to rise, but fell back into the blacksmith's arms with a faint groan.
"He must not undertake this journey," said Maud; and she ordered him to be carried into a cottage near, saying she would come and speak to him about the papers as soon as he had somewhat revived. Meanwhile she ordered Martin to look to Cavalier, while the women attended to the stranger; and then she sent Bertram home with Bessie, and a message to Mistress Mabel not to be alarmed if she did not come back to the Grange that night.
By that time the traveller had recovered from the fainting fit, and Maud went into the cottage. "I am Mistress Maud Harcourt, and Master Drury of the Grange is my guardian," she said. "He is at Oxford just now, but if you will entrust your despatches to me, I will take them to him there, and he will place them in the hands of those to whom they are directed."
The stranger looked at the young lady's glowing resolute face, and laid his hands upon the papers "I could trust you," he said, "but will you swear that these shall not pass out of your hands, save to those directed to receive them?"
"I swear," said Maud, solemnly.
"It seemeth I must perforce stay here," sighed the man. "Prince Rupert's troops have chased me miles out of my way, or I should have reached Oxford ere this; and if it were not for the faintness that comes over me when I move, I would even now continue my journey."
"I will explain all that," said Maud, "but time presses. Now give me the papers, for my horse is in readiness, and I would fain depart ere messengers come from Mistress Mabel to hinder me."
It was a large packet, sealed with the seal of the Parliament, that the stranger delivered into her hands, and which she contrived to conceal within her dress. Then the stranger gave her directions for her journey, for he it seemed was well acquainted with the road; and carefully noting these in her mind, and looking at her purse to see she had money with her, she took her departure, the villagers scarcely comprehending that she was going to Oxford until she was out of sight.
Then it was suggested that one of the lads could have gone instead, and a message came from Mistress Mabel, ordering Maud to return to the Grange at once; but she was some miles on her way by this time, for Cavalier was fresh, and inclined for a sharp canter, and Maud kept him at full speed, for the pressure of those papers was a constant reminder that life or death hung upon their speedy delivery.
Whether it was the life of friend or foe she did not think. Whoever it was, he was dear to some heart doubtless--dear as Harry was to her, and that thought was enough to keep down all fatigue, and make her urge Cavalier forward whenever he seemed inclined to lag. It never occurred to her that if Prince Rupert's troops had driven the messenger so far out of the usual route, it would be impossible for her to escape them, neither did she think, even if she knew, the distance she had to travel. Hour after hour she urged her good horse forward, and as it was fine dry weather, the usual muddy, unkept roads were comparatively easy to travel, and she had accomplished a good portion of the journey before the evening closed in.
She halted at a little village where the people were in a terribly frightened condition on account of the doings of Prince Rupert in the neighbourhood. Some of his followers had fired a farm-house the night before, after carrying off all that they wanted; and the numbers of people--quiet dwellers in lonely houses--or travellers, whom his troopers had wantonly killed, were very numerous, it seemed, and there was great surprise that Maud should have undertaken such a journey.
Maud felt surprised herself, now that something of the excitement was over; she felt stiff and tired, too, with her long ride; and now these tales about Prince Rupert made her shudder with fear as she knelt down in the little strange bedroom to thank God for His mercy, and ask it too for Harry if he was still in this world. She prayed too that she might be kept through the remainder of her journey--that Prince Rupert might be kept from her road, and nothing be allowed to hinder her from reaching Oxford in time to save the lives of these unknown prisoners.
Then she laid down, and in total forgetfulness of Prince Rupert and his brutal troopers went to sleep, not waking until the morning, when she recommenced her journey in renewed hope, and with a calm trust in God's protecting care.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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10
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"ON, CAVALIER, ON!"
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To Maud's great joy, the stately towers and ancient buildings of Oxford at length rose before her. As she rode into the principal street of the city she was met by a crowd of people who were talking loudly and eagerly, so that Maud had but little difficulty in making out the words. "Down with all parliament men! Shoot the traitors, and all the rebel army!" and many other speeches, convinced Maud something unusual had taken place, or was about to take place.
Her cheeks grew pale with anxious fear as the bridle of her horse was at length seized, and she was forced back against a wall; and then for the first time she noticed that a body of soldiers were drawing near, and beyond them marched a number of downcast-looking men, evidently prisoners. Could it be that they were already on their way to execution? --that the delivery of her papers would be too late to save them? This thought almost maddened her, and turning her horse's head, she said, "On, Cavalier, on!" and at the same moment drew out her packet, and held it high above her head.
[Illustration: "ON CAVALIER, ON!"]
The effect of her words seemed magical--not upon her horse, but upon the soldiers by whom she was now surrounded. The officer in command bowed as she uttered the ringing words, "On, Cavalier, on!" and instead of turning her back to the wall, called upon his men to halt, while Maud passed through their midst, holding high the official-looking document which she thought had gained her this privilege, but which in reality the officer had hardly noticed.
Quite unconsciously, Maud had used their password in addressing her horse, and to this she owed it that she was allowed to pass through the ranks, the officer believing she came with orders from the King to those in charge of the prisoners. She heeded not the looks of the soldiers; indeed, she scarcely saw them, but rode straight on to where an officer stood waiting to demand her business, and why the cavalcade had been stopped.
Maud handed him her packet. "It concerneth the prisoners," she said, panting with excitement.
The officer took it from her hand, and rode back to another officer after glancing at the address, and Maud, then face to face with the pale, weary-looking prisoners, glanced at them for the first time. One was looking at her and her horse most earnestly, but she did not recognise him; and when the officer came back she rode on, wondering whether she had been in time to save them after all. The papers had been sent to the residence of the general in command, and they were still halting, to know the result of his reading them; and Maud was detained, lest she should be wanted too. They had not to wait long. In a few minutes a soldier rode up with a note from the general. The prisoners were to be taken back to their prison and the messenger released; and Maud was allowed to go on her way, while the whole cavalcade turned back, to the great disappointment of the Oxford crowd, who would fain have testified their loyalty to the King by making a holiday over the execution of these rebels.
Maud had no other care than to get out of the way of the crowd and the detachments of soldiers; but as soon as a by-street was gained, and she was left in comparative quiet, weariness and exhaustion almost overcame her, and for the first time she noticed that Cavalier had fallen lame with his exertions. To get back to Hayslope Grange, as she had at first intended, was therefore impossible, and she resolved to ask the hospitality of Mistress Stanhope for a few days. She hoped Master Drury was there, but of this she could not feel sure; but whether or no he was there, she must go, and she made instant inquiry of a bystander for Captain Stanhope's house. After some little difficulty she found it, and to her joy heard that Master Drury was there. He seemed much astonished to see Maud, and Mistress Stanhope was in no little alarm at her travel-stained appearance.
"Has the rebel army appeared before Hayslope?" he asked, anxiously.
"No," answered Maud, faintly smiling. "Nothing had happened to Hayslope when I left."
"Then wherefore hast thou come here?" asked Master Drury. "Has anything happened to Mistress Mabel or the children?"
"Nay, they are all well," said Maud. "I came as a messenger, to bring certain letters from London to the King."
"Marry, now be truthful, Mistress Maud," said Mary, "and tell us thou art come to see the gay city of Oxford."
"Nay, nay; I came not for that," said Maud. "I have ridden hard to reach here in time, so hard that Cavalier hath fallen lame with his journey, and needs rest more than I do."
"Then I will order Cavalier's rest and refreshment while Mary looketh to your wants," said Master Drury; and he went out at once, leaving the two ladies alone. Mistress Stanhope was proud to play the hostess to her old companion, and as soon as she had changed her dress, and had some refreshment, she insisted upon showing her new and fashionable house, in spite of Maud's evident weariness. At length she was allowed to take up a book and sit down in peace, for some other visitors had called, and Mary was obliged to go to them.
The book Maud had taken up was quite a new one, just published, and written by Master John Milton, a schoolmaster of London. It was a volume of poems, and Maud was soon absorbed in reading "Penseroso." Mary suddenly entering the room some time afterwards quite startled her, and the book slipped from her hand on to the floor. But Mary did not stay, she had only come for something to show her visitor; and as Maud picked up the book, she went out again, and did not see how pale Maud had suddenly grown, as she sat and stared at the inner cover of the book.
There was nothing very remarkable there,--only, "Mistress Stanhope, from an old friend. Oxford, 1645." But Maud knew that Harry's hand had traced those letters, and she wondered how it was he was at Oxford, and whether he was there now. When Mary came back Maud was still staring at her name in the book.
"Marry, what are you looking at?" asked the young matron, glancing over her shoulder.
"Harry wrote this?" gasped Maud.
"I suppose he did," coolly spoke Mary; "but he had the grace to conceal the fact that I was his sister."
Maud had noticed that he wrote "friend" instead of "brother."
"Why should he do this?" she said.
"Prithee, Maud, will you never see how he has disgraced our name?" said Mary, impatiently. "Nay, nay, you have not seen my father's misery since he hath been here, and how closely he hath kept himself shut up, lest any should hear his name."
"But why should he do this?" asked Maud.
"Why?" uttered Mary, "when all men are talking of the traitor rebel, Harry Drury, who was this day to be executed."
Her voice faltered as she said the last words, although she tried to appear unmoved as she added, "But the execution is postponed, I hear."
"Only postponed!" gasped Maud, who sat with widely staring eyes.
"The letters were to save their lives, I heard."
"What letters?" asked Mary.
"Those I brought from Hayslope, where the parliament messenger lies sorely wounded," said Maud.
Mary did not wait to hear more, but went to meet her husband, who was coming up the stairs. The gaily dressed officer bowed to Maud as he entered a few minutes afterwards, but she could see he looked annoyed.
"Good-morrow, lady messenger," he said. "You did but reach Oxford in time, and if you had been an hour later 'twere better for his Majesty, I trow."
"Prithee, tell me why?" said Maud.
"There would have been six stout-hearted rebels the less to fight against King Charles," said Captain Stanhope.
"Are the prisoners released?" asked Maud, with an exclamation of joy.
"Nay, nay, not yet; but we cannot afford to execute them, for the rebel army hath five thousand of our loyal troopers, and they propose to exchange some of these for the handful we have here in our prison, and Harry Drury is specially named as one of them--Harry Drury and Gilbert Clayton, whom Prince Rupert's men captured some time since."
To describe Maud's feelings when she heard how near Harry had been to an ignominious death would be impossible. For a time she could only bow her head in her hands, and weep out her thanksgiving to God for His great mercy; but by degrees the hope that she should soon see him gradually stole over her, until she recollected that Harry would scarcely venture to call upon them, even though he had seen her in the town; for she doubted not but that the prisoner who had looked at her so closely was Harry, although she had failed to recognise him.
When Master Drury came in soon afterwards, it was evident he had heard the news, although Harry's name was not mentioned.
"Maud," he said, drawing his chair close to hers as soon as they were left alone, "you heard that the King's cabinet had been captured at the battle of Naseby?"
Maud bowed. "Hath it been retaken?" she asked.
Master Drury shook his head. "Prithee, I would it had never existed," he said, "or that I knew not aught of it."
"Have you seen the King's letters?" asked Maud.
"All the world will see them shortly," sighed the gentleman. "The rebels have published some of his papers, calling it 'The King's Cabinet Opened.'"
"Then all the world will know what a just and gentle monarch he is," said Maud.
"Alas! they will see that what these rebels say of him is true; that he hath tried to sell his people to a foreign foe," groaned Master Drury. "All his doings with the Irish rebels, and his negotiations with foreign princes to bring troops over here, are given in these papers."
Maud started to her feet, flushed with indignation. "It is not true," she said. "It would be unkingly--beneath the majesty of our royal Charles. It is a fabrication of the Parliament rebels."
"I would fain think so if I could," sighed Master Drury; "but, Maud, I have heard from those who knew all the King's matters that these letters are true copies of what were in the cabinet."
Maud dropped into her seat as though she had been shot. "The King is false and untrue, then," she gasped, "and Harry is right after all."
"Hush, prithee, hush!" said Master Drury. "You know not what you say, Maud;" but he did not speak as though he were angry that Harry's name had been uttered.
"Marry, but I cannot hold my peace when true and noble men are risking their lives to fight for this false king," said Maud.
"I will not fight," quietly spoke Master Drury. "I will go back with you to Hayslope."
"Prithee, but you will see Harry before you leave Oxford?" said Maud, a faint colour stealing into her cheek as she spoke.
Master Drury was deeply moved. It was evident he was longing to see his son, but he said in a faint voice, "Nay, nay, I dare not see him. Mary Stanhope has spread the report that I have cast him off as a traitor rebel, and my loyalty to the King would be suspected if I were to see him now;" and he heaved a deep sigh as he spoke.
"But it is true that you think the King false?" said Maud. "Harry did the same, and avowed it."
Master Drury winced at the implied reproach. "Nay, nay, I cannot go so far as that," he said; "if I were I should be a rebel."
"Then you must be false to yourself to _seem_ true to the King," said Maud, boldly; "and that is why there are so many true and honest men among the rebels, and why they are so strong. It is not their hatred of oppression only, nor their wish to save England's liberties, as they say; but they cannot do otherwise if they would be true to themselves--true to God, who has said, 'Fear God,' first, and then 'Honour the king.'"
Maud was speaking for Harry, and that gave her courage, or she would never dared to have said so much to her guardian. But it was all in vain. Family honour demanded the sacrifice of principle--at least, so thought Master Drury--and he would not allow Maud to seek an interview with Harry, or claim acquaintance with the all but executed traitor.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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11
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MYSTERIES.
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As soon as Maud had sufficiently rested she returned to Hayslope with Master Drury, who, now that he had made up his mind to do so, was all impatient to return home. His visit to Oxford had been a very painful one, for his faith in the King had been completely broken, and yet he had been forced to hear of his son's condemnation to an ignominious death, for principles he began dimly to see were right.
The last lingering remnants of loyalty forbade his seeking to see that son, as much as the fear of offending his son-in-law, and yet he longed to fold Harry in his arms and look in his face once more.
When the travellers reached Hayslope they found the villagers in a wildly excited state. Many of their relatives who had been fighting at Naseby were held prisoners by the Parliament, and of course could not return home this winter; and lads too young to serve as soldiers, and the women, with Martin the blacksmith at their head, were wildly clamouring for the destruction of the Parliament and all the rebels. The poor wounded messenger had most mysteriously disappeared, Maud heard, but on questioning some of them more closely, it seemed that he had more than once been threatened by Martin, if he would not swear to serve the King, while he stoutly refused, and at last he left the village with his wound only half healed.
Poor old Dame Coppins was of course accused of having some hand in this business. Without the help of witchcraft the man could not have escaped, the women said, and for once Maud felt thankful to the unknown witch, whoever she might be, who had done this service. She believed in witchcraft almost as fully as the ignorant villagers, but she did not believe Dame Coppins was a witch simply because she did not choose to tell all the village her business--where she had come from, and what had induced her to take the lonely cottage outside Hayslope,--and this was the only reason they had for supposing her a witch.
Maud had tried to reason them out of this, had told them she was a poor widow who had seen a great deal of trouble, and preferred a solitary life; that she loved the Bible and feared God as much as any of them; but it was all of no avail. That any one could exist without gossip was to them impossible to understand, and they shook their heads sadly, and thought Maud bewitched herself when she talked about Dame Coppins.
So the cottage in the lane was as lonely as ever, in spite of the patronage extended to the widow by Maud and the two children at the Grange.
For a day or two after her return Maud was not able to go to the cottage, for Master Drury had scarcely reached home when he was taken seriously ill, and Mistress Mabel's herbs and decoctions failed to relieve his sickness for some time. Bertram and Bessie, however, went each day, and brought back the report that the widow had seemed very joyful when she heard that Maud had returned, and that her errand had been so successful as to gain the prisoners their freedom.
Maud smiled when she heard this. "Marry, but their freedom is not gained yet," she said, with something of a sigh.
"Dame Coppins says they are free, and on their way to London," said Bessie.
Maud opened her eyes. Was the old woman a witch after all? Bertram's next words quite confirmed her in this wild notion. "Maud," he said in a whisper, "do you know that Harry was one of the prisoners."
"Who told you so?" asked Maud, quickly, for it had been agreed that this intelligence should not reach the children, or even Mistress Mabel.
"Dame Coppins told me," replied Bertram; "she said he would have been shot if you had not gone to Oxford with those papers," he added.
Maud actually shuddered with horror as the boy said this. "Bertram, you must not go to Dame Coppins again," she said, quickly.
"Why not?" asked Bertram, in surprise.
"Prithee, I scarce can tell you, but--but you will keep it quite a secret, Bertram, even from Bessie," said Maud--"this dreadful thing I am going to tell you."
Bertram nodded. "Isn't she a good old woman?" he asked.
"Bertie, she's a witch," whispered Maud, in a tone of horror.
Bertram started back pale with fright. "I don't believe it, Maud," he said: "she couldn't talk about God taking care of Harry, and pray for Him to do it, if she was a wicked old witch. I do believe God took you safe to Oxford in time because she prayed so much about it, and that He's kept Harry safe in all the battles, that he might come home to us again in answer to Dame Coppins's prayers."
Bertram spoke quickly, almost passionately, but Maud only shook her head sadly. "I thought she was a good woman," she said, "but how could she know what happened at Oxford if she was not a witch? Nobody here knows that Harry was in prison--not even Mistress Mabel or the servants, so that no one could tell her about it."
But Bertram was still unwilling to believe in Dame Coppins's wickedness, until Maud said pettishly, "I do believe she has bewitched you, Bertie, and you must not go to see her again."
"But I will go," said Bertram, beginning to lose his temper.
"Then I shall ask Mistress Mabel to forbid you going beyond the moat," said Maud.
This threat, which Bertram knew she would put into execution, made him give the required promise not to go and see Dame Coppins until Maud had discovered who had told her about Harry; which Maud feeling sure was a dark mystery, that no one would ever be able to penetrate, made up her mind not to try, now that she had extorted this promise from Bertram.
Some thoughts of the poor old woman's anxiety troubled her after she left Bertram, and she wondered what effect their neglect might have upon the mind of the villagers; but on this she resolved to keep eyes and ears alike open whenever she went amongst them, so that she might protect her from violence should any be attempted or contemplated.
But it seemed that the people had forgotten the witch in their rage against the "Parliament rebels," and Maud could not discover whether the old woman was being supplied with food or not; and very soon the fear that she would be starved to death began to take possession of her mind. To satisfy herself upon this point she resolved to walk down the lane late one afternoon, when she would not be expected. Before she had reached the cottage, however, she saw a litter borne between two men carried into the garden, and then from this was lifted what looked like a huge roll of cloth, and taken into the house, while Dame Coppins came and looked all round to make sure no one was in the lane. She did not see Maud, for she had concealed herself behind a tree, but the young lady had a good view of the old woman's face, and saw that there was little fear of her dying of starvation yet. As soon as she could she slipped out of her hiding-place and walked quickly up the lane. She was afraid of going near the cottage now, and she wondered what fresh wickedness Dame Coppins had been at. No wonder the people were afraid of her when such mysterious doings as that were going on.
Maud thought she had more than sufficient evidence to prove that Dame Coppins was a witch now, and began seriously to consider whether she ought not to inform against her; and she might have done this, only Master Drury was taken ill again. Maud began to think this must be the witch's work, when all Mistress Mabel's remedies failed, but she dared not say so, for fear the servants should tell the villagers, and they should attempt to drown her again; and so she suggested that a physician should be sent for to see her guardian. Mistress Mabel looked scornful at first, but finally relented, and a boy was despatched to the town, and returned with the grave-looking doctor, in plumed hat, scarlet cloak, and immense ruffles at his wrists. He looked grand enough to do anything if grandeur would do it, but he shook his head when he heard all Master Drury's ailments. Beyond this he would not commit himself, and so very little information was gained from his visit, and they could only wait in hope that his medicine would soon effect some improvement on the patient.
Meanwhile news had arrived that Prince Rupert had been compelled to surrender Bristol and several other places in the west, and that another battle disastrous to Charles had been fought at Rowton Moor. The King had been completely defeated, and compelled to retire to Oxford for the winter, and Captain Stanhope and his wife were coming to Hayslope. This was the news brought by one or two of the men who came back to the village to tell of the death or imprisonment of others who had gone forth with them that sweet spring day a few months before. So the winter came in gloomy enough, and men grew fiercer each day about the strife that was raging in the land. In Hayslope all the rage was against the London Parliament, and many vowed that if one of Cromwell's troopers showed himself there he should be killed, whoever he might be. This threat did not disturb Maud much, even if she heard it, for she did not think it was likely any of the Parliament men would come there, and she could only feel glad that the messenger had gone away before the arrival of these half-frenzied men. She still visited occasionally among the villagers, and contributed to their wants as far as she could; but a good deal of her time was occupied with Master Drury now, and Dame Coppins was almost forgotten, apparently.
She was therefore greatly surprised one day to receive a message from a village lad, saying she was wanted down the lane. She had no doubt who wanted her, but she did not intend going; she would not give Dame Coppins the opportunity of bewitching her any more; and so merely saying, "Prithee, I will think about it," she walked home as fast as she could.
That evening, about six o'clock, just as they were about to assemble for supper, one of the maids came to her and whispered that she was wanted; a man, who refused to say who he was or where he came from, demanded to see her.
Maud shivered: such mysterious messages were disagreeable, and she was just about to say she would not go, when Mistress Mabel appearing in the passage settled the matter; for had she heard her refuse, there would have been an instant inquiry, and the lady would not have rested until she found out all about the supposed witch and Maud's charities in the village.
So to prevent this she threw a cloak over her head, and followed the maid, without speaking, to where a muffled figure stood outside the door. She had only stepped off the threshold, when a gust of wind blew the door close, and at the same moment her wrist was seized, and she was dragged away from the house; and before she could even scream, or give any alarm, she was lifted on to a horse, and the man sprang up before her, and galloped away into the village.
[Illustration: ABDUCTION OF MAUD.]
All the horrible tales Maud had ever heard of people being carried off by witches rushed to her mind when she saw that they were turning round by the blacksmith's shed. All was dark and still, but she tried to scream, in hopes of raising some alarm; but fear had paralyzed her tongue, and she could not utter a sound. She was like one in all the horrors of a nightmare, and believed she was on a phantom horse, although she could hear it splashing though the wet mud, precisely as Cavalier did the day before, when she was out riding with Mistress Stanhope.
At length they stopped just opposite the widow's cottage, as Maud expected, for she had no doubt that this ride was of the witch's planning; and feeling powerless to resist, she suffered herself to be lifted down, and expected to be carried into the house. But instead of this, a familiar, though scarcely remembered, but very human voice, said, "Go in, Mistress Maud, I will look after Cavalier." But Maud did not move, although the man stepped to the horse's head. Before she could make up her mind, however, to run away, the cottage door opened, and a weak, quivering voice, said, "Roger, Roger, is that you?"
Without answering, the man left the horse and came to Maud. "Prithee, be not so sorrowful," he said; "there's hope for him yet, if we can only get a physician to him soon, and Dame Coppins says----" But Maud staggered back as he would have led her into the house. "Tell me what it is, and who you are," she gasped.
The man was perplexed. "Marry, but you know me, Mistress Maud. I'm Roger, Master Drury's servant, and the letter told all about the rest, I trow."
What the "rest" was Maud had not time to ask, for at that moment the cottage door opened again, and Dame Coppins drew her inside.
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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12
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HARRY'S RETURN.
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Suddenly stepping out of the darkness into the lighted room, Maud could not distinguish any object at first, and only heard as in a dream Dame Coppins's words, "Be calm, Mistress Maud, for he is very weak, I trow." Then, looking across the room, she saw some one lying on a bed with hands eagerly outstretched towards her, and a faint voice uttered, "Maud, Maud, come to me; let me hold your hand once more." The sound of that feeble pleading voice brought back Maud's bewildered senses. "Harry," she gasped, "Oh, my Harry!" and she was kneeling by the low bed, kissing the thin white hands.
[Illustration: MEETING OF MAUD AND HARRY.]
For a few minutes no one came near them, and Maud knelt there sobbing, for her overstrained feelings would have vent, in spite of her effort to control them.
Harry was the first to regain composure, and smoothing the soft braids of her hair, he said, "I began to fear you would never forgive me, Maud; and I could not die without your forgiveness."
"Forgive you!" repeated Maud. "I have wanted to ask you to forgive me for speaking as I did the morning you went away."
"I have nothing to forgive," said Harry. "You could not but believe I was a traitor, as you said, in refusing to serve the King."
"Nay, nay, but I ought to have believed you were acting conscientiously, although I could not see things as you saw them. I was hard, uncharitable, cruel, Harry."
"Nay, nay, Maud; cruel, when at Oxford you saved my life?"
"I did not know it was to save you," murmured Maud.
Harry looked disappointed, and dropped the hand he was holding. "Maud, when I saw you there, riding through the soldiers, I thought it was for me you came, although you had given your heart and hand to another."
Maud stared. "Given heart and hand to another!" she repeated.
"Hush! hush!" said Harry, "my secret shall die with me. I would not even ask about you when I came here, but suffer me to call you Maud the little while I stay."
"What other name should I be called?" asked Maud, in surprise.
"Nay, nay, I cannot play now, Maud," said Harry, "I would not even suffer a word to be spoken about you until I heard Captain Stanhope and his wife were coming from Oxford, and then I roused myself to write that letter, for I longed to see you once again, as the companion of my childhood and the friend----" "Prithee, I have received no letter," said Maud.
"Marry, but I sent one, and the messenger said he had delivered it into the hand of Mistress Stanhope herself," said Harry.
"But I am not Mistress Stanhope," said Maud, smiling.
Harry raised himself in bed, and looked earnestly into her face. "You are not the wife of Captain Stanhope?" he repeated.
"No, it is Mary who is married," said Maud.
Harry fell back on his pillow, and Roger and Dame Coppins were obliged to administer some restoratives; but the moment he had revived he looked round for Maud, and feebly murmured her name.
"I am with you, Harry dear," she whispered, and took his hand, while Dame Coppins told the story of how he had been brought there in a litter some weeks before by Roger and the messenger, who had fled to her cottage from the violence of the villagers. The man had remained with her until he recovered from his wound, and had told her who were the prisoners at Oxford, and the certainty of their release if the letters were only delivered in time; and the old woman's joy on hearing from Bertram that Maud had reached Oxford as she did, unloosed her tongue and thus brought upon herself the charge of witchcraft. Maud felt heartily ashamed of her hasty judgment now, and when she heard how greatly Harry had longed to see her, she felt more grieved than ever that she had stayed away from the cottage. Dame Coppins had felt anxious, when day after day passed and no one came from the Grange, for she began to fear some of them had heard she had strange visitors, for it was the messenger who had been with her that informed Harry it was dangerous for him to go to the village even to see his father, and persuaded him to come to Dame Coppins's cottage, and wait for some chance to send to his father secretly. Roger came with him, for Harry was too ill when he left London to travel alone, and all Dame Coppins's herb tea had failed to do him any good; and so at last, feeling sure he had not long to live, he wrote a letter to Maud, enclosing one to be given to his father, asking his forgiveness, and begging he would come and see him. This was addressed to Mistress Stanhope, and delivered to her, but which she took care no one else should hear of, destroying her father's letter as well as her own.
Maud did not hear this all at once. Harry could say but little more that night beyond how he had longed for her after the letter was sent, and how disappointed he was that she did not come.
"But what made you think I was Mistress Stanhope?" asked Maud.
"Roger told me you were about to be married when he left the village last summer. We met in a slight skirmish soon after I recovered from my wounds, and enemies though we ought to have been, we could not help exchanging a few friendly words; and it was because I knew he loved me truly, despite of the King's quarrel, that I asked his release, to attend me when I came home."
"Yes, Harry, you must come home," said Maud, in a determined tone.
"Yes, I am almost there," murmured Harry; "but it is harder to leave now, Maud, than before I saw you, and heard about this mistake."
"Nay, nay, but it is to the Grange you must come, Harry," said Maud, with a faint blush. "Your father is ill, but the sight of you will do him more good than all the physician can do; and if you are there the doctor can attend to your wants as well."
But Harry shook his head. "I have longed to see my father and the old Grange, Maud; but you must ask his forgiveness and blessing now. I cannot move from here."
"Nay, nay, but you must try, Harry," said Maud, almost wildly; "for my sake," she added, in a whisper.
Harry looked at the pleading face. "You forget," he said, "I have vowed never to set foot inside the Grange again. I came to Hayslope to ask my father's forgiveness, but not to go to the Grange."
"It was a proud, rash vow," said Maud. "Your father has much to give up in receiving you, and it is but right you should first seek him."
Harry did not know how much he had indulged this proud, bitter spirit, until now, and it was only after much pleading from Maud that he consented to give it up. She obtained a promise from him, however, that he would come to the Grange before she left, and then she went home again, under Roger's guidance, to perform the more difficult task of winning a welcome for him there. As Cavalier trotted along her brain was busy upon the question how she should do this, and at length she resolved to mention what had happened to no one but Master Drury. To Mistress Mabel's questioning she would answer she had been to see some one who was ill in the village, for if she and Mary heard Harry was likely to return to his home, they would oppose it, she knew. The household had become somewhat accustomed to Maud's erratic doings by this time, and so little wonder was expressed that she did not come into the keeping-room to supper. Every one supposed she was in her own room, and so at the usual hour the watch dogs were set upon their guard and the house locked up, and by the time Maud got there every light was extinguished but the little lamp burning in Master Drury's room. The approach of Cavalier, therefore, at that unseasonable hour, was the signal for all the dogs to set up a furious barking, and all the household was aroused. Captain Stanhope was the first to make his appearance at an open window, and demand the reason of the disturbance, warning the intruders that if they came a step nearer the house he would discharge his musket at them.
Maud hardly knew what to do, but begged Roger to let her reply, hoping the gentleman would recognise her voice; but he failed to do this for some time, until, assured it was a woman who was speaking, he consented to come down and open the door, as soon as all the servants were armed to resist any attack that might be made.
Maud could not help laughing, and yet the dilemma was a serious one just now, as she knew she should have to give an account of herself to everybody. At length the door was opened, and Maud walked in past the row of servants, and upstairs to where Mistress Mabel, with Bertram and Bessie, were shivering in the gallery with fright and cold.
Mistress Mabel was speechless with anger, and seizing Maud's wrist, marched her into Master Drury's room at once. "Now, Master Drury, you will nathless make this wilful girl give an account of herself," said the lady, and she sat down; while Captain Stanhope and the rest came into the room, and the servants crowded round the door to hear what had happened.
"Marry, I would speak to Master Drury alone," said Maud.
"Nay, nay, you must speak out before us all, unless it is some shameful deed you would tell of," said Mistress Mabel and Mary both in a breath.
Maud turned and looked at Mary. "You know what I have to tell," she said, angrily, "for you had a letter from Harry, telling his father he was dying, and craved his forgiveness."
Master Drury raised himself in bed. "You have seen my son--my Harry!" he exclaimed, eagerly, looking at Maud.
But Captain Stanhope stepped forward. "You forget," he whispered, "you have no children but Mary and Bessie. Even the boy Bertram has turned to follow his brother's way of thinking."
"Nay, nay," said the old man, pleadingly. "I must see my son, my Harry, before I die. Where is he? Where is he?" he asked of Maud.
"He will come to-morrow," replied Maud; "he is ill--very ill, but may get better if he has a physician."
"Tell me all about him, Maud; you saved his life, I know."
Bertram and Bessie were almost as eager as their father to hear all about their brother, and so in the hearing of them all, Maud told how she had been fetched to the cottage that evening to see Harry.
Master Drury would have had him brought to the Grange that night, had it been possible, but was at length persuaded to wait until the morning, on Maud promising to go down and prepare him for the removal as soon as it was light.
Captain Stanhope and his wife were the only ones who did not rejoice at the thought of Harry's return, and it was easy to see why they were so disappointed. The Captain, having an eye to Mary's wealth when he married her, had done all he could to increase Master Drury's anger against his son, and even persuaded him to disinherit Bertram in favour of Mary. Now the hopes this had raised were all crushed, and the next day, before the litter arrived with Harry, the disappointed pair had left for Oxford. Mistress Mabel, finding her nephew's return was inevitable, wisely made the best of it, and accorded a grim welcome, hoping they would not all be beheaded by-and-by for sheltering a traitor.
The meeting between the long-estranged father and son we will pass over in silence. Harry had not been at the Grange long before he began to improve, and soon hinted that, instead of a funeral, there would have to be a wedding for him. Master Drury too began to grow stronger, but the overthrow of his faith in King Charles was a blow he could not recover entirely; and although he confessed to his son that he believed he was right in espousing the cause of the Parliament, yet he begged him not to leave the Grange again while he lived, a promise Harry was the more willing to give since his health would not allow him to join the army again, and Maud had consented to be his wife early in the spring.
Mistress Mabel's fear of being beheaded for receiving her nephew was quite groundless, and even Captain Stanhope was glad to ask the interest and protection of the man he had sought to injure when the Royalists were ultimately defeated and the Commonwealth established. Before this, however, Harry succeeded his father as Master Drury of Hayslope Grange, for the old man never held up his head after the death of King Charles, and died a few months after the King was beheaded. His last days were calm and tranquil. "By the grace of Christ," he was wont to say--"he had conquered his pride and prejudice, which had brought such misery to Hayslope Grange."
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{
"id": "19136"
}
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1
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: The Wreck on the Devon Coast.
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It was a Stormy morning in the month of May, 1572; and the fishermen of the little village of Westport, situate about five miles from Plymouth, clustered in the public house of the place; and discussed, not the storm, for that was a common topic, but the fact that Master Francis Drake, whose ships lay now at Plymouth, was visiting the Squire of Treadwood, had passed through the village over night, and might go through it again, today. There was not one of the hardy fishermen there but would gladly have joined Drake's expedition, for marvellous tales had been told of the great booty which he, and other well-known captains, had already obtained from the Dons on the Spanish Main. The number, however, who could go was limited, and even of these the seafaring men were but a small proportion; for in those days, although a certain number of sailors were required to trim the sails and navigate the ship, the strength of the company were the fighting men, who were soldiers by trade, and fought on board ship as if on land.
Captain Drake was accompanied by many men of good Devon blood, for that county was then ahead of all England in its enterprise, and its seamanship; and no captain of name or repute ever had any difficulty in getting together a band of adventurers, from the sturdy population of her shores.
"I went over myself, last week," said a finely-built young sailor, "and I prayed the captain, on my knees, to take me on board; but he said the tale had been full, long ago; and that so many were the applicants that Master Drake and himself had sworn a great oath, that they would take none beyond those already engaged."
"Aye! I would have gone myself," said a grizzly, weatherbeaten old sailor, "if they would have had me. There was Will Trelawney, who went on such another expedition as this, and came back with more bags of Spanish dollars than he could carry. Truly they are a gold mine, these Western seas; but even better than getting gold is the thrashing of those haughty Spaniards, who seem to look upon themselves as gods, and on all others as fit only to clean their worships' boots."
"They cannot fight neither, can they?" asked a young sailor.
"They can fight, boy, and have fought as well as we could; but, somehow, they cannot stand against us, in those seas. Whether it is that the curse of the poor natives, whom they kill, enslave, and ill treat in every way, rises against them, and takes away their courage and their nerve; but certain is it that, when our little craft lay alongside their big galleons, fight as they will, the battle is as good as over. Nothing less than four to one, at the very least, has any chance against our buccaneers."
"They ill treat those that fall into their hands, do they not?"
"Ay, do they!" said the old sailor. "They tear off their flesh with hot pincers, wrench out their nails, and play all sorts of devil's games; and then, at last, they burn what is left of them in the marketplaces. I have heard tell of fearsome tales, lad; but the Spaniards outwit themselves. Were our men to have fair treatment as prisoners of war, it may be that the Spaniards would often be able to hold their own against us; but the knowledge that, if we are taken, this horrible fate is certain to be ours, makes our men fight with a desperate fury; and never to give in, as long as one is left. This it is that accounts for the wonderful victories which we have gained there. He would be a coward, indeed, who would not fight with thumbscrews and a bonfire behind him."
"It is said that the queen and her ministers favor, though not openly, these adventures."
"She cannot do it openly," said the old man, "for here in Europe we are at peace with Spain--worse luck."
"How is it, then, that if we are at peace here, we can be at war in the Indian Seas?"
"That is more than I can tell thee, lad. I guess the queen's writ runs not so far as that; and while her majesty's commands must be obeyed, and the Spanish flag suffered to pass unchallenged, on these seas; on the Spanish main there are none to keep the peace, and the Don and the Englishman go at each other's throats, as a thing of nature."
"The storm is rising, methinks. It is not often I have heard the wind howl more loudly. It is well that the adventurers have not yet started. It would be bad for any craft caught in the Channel, today."
As he spoke, he looked from the casement. Several people were seen hurrying towards the beach.
"Something is the matter, lads; maybe a ship is driving on the rocks, even now."
Seizing their hats and cloaks, the party sallied out, and hurried down to the shore. There they saw a large ship, driving in before the wind into the bay. She was making every effort that seamanship could suggest, to beat clear of the head; but the sailors saw, at once, that her case was hopeless.
"She will go on the Black Shoal, to a certainty," the old sailor said; "and then, may God have mercy on their souls."
"Can we do nothing to help them?" a woman standing near asked.
"No, no," the sailor said; "we could not launch a boat, in the teeth of this tremendous sea. All we can do is to look out, and throw a line to any who may be washed ashore, on a spar, when she goes to pieces."
Presently a group of men, whose dress belonged to the upper class, moved down through the street to the beach.
"Aye! there is Mr. Trevelyan," said the sailor, "and the gentleman beside him is Captain Drake, himself."
The group moved on to where the fishermen were standing.
"Is there no hope," they asked, "of helping the ship?"
The seamen shook their heads.
"You will see for yourself, Master Drake, that no boat could live in such a sea as this."
"It could not put out from here," the Captain said; "but if they could lower one from the ship, it might live until it got into the breakers."
"Aye, aye," said a sailor; "but there is no lowering a boat from a ship which has begun to beat on the Black Shoal."
"Another minute and she will strike," the old sailor said.
All gazed intently at the ship. The whole population of the village were now on the shore, and were eager to render any assistance, if it were possible. In another minute or two, a general cry announced that the ship had struck. Rising high on a wave, she came down with a force which caused her mainmast at once to go over the side. Another lift on the next sea and then, high and fast, she was jammed on the rocks of the Black Shoal. The distance from shore was but small, not more than three hundred yards, and the shouts of the sailors on board could be heard in the storm.
"Why does not one of them jump over, with a rope?" Captain Drake said, impatiently. "Are the men all cowards, or can none of them swim? It would be easy to swim from that ship to the shore, while it is next to impossible for anyone to make his way out, through these breakers.
"Is there no one who can reach her from here?" he said, looking round.
"No one among us, your honor," the old sailor said. "Few here can keep themselves up in the water, in a calm sea; but if man or boy could swim through that surf, it is the lad who is just coming down from behind us. The Otter, as we call him, for he seems to be able to live, in water, as well as on land."
The lad of whom they were speaking was a bright-faced boy, of some fifteen years of age. He was squarely built, and his dress differed a little from that of the fisher lads standing on the beach.
"Who is he?" asked Captain Drake.
"He is the son of the schoolmaster here, a learned man, and they do say one who was once wealthy. The lad himself would fain go to sea, but his father keeps him here. It is a pity, for he is a bold boy, and would make a fine sailor."
The Otter, as he had been called, had now come down to the beach; and, with his hands shading his eyes from the spray, sheets of which the wind carried along with blinding force, he gazed at the ship and the sea, with a steady intentness.
"I think I can get out to her," he said, to the fishermen.
"It is madness, boy," Captain Drake said. "There are few men, indeed, so far as I know, in these climes--I talk not of the heathens of the Western Islands--who could swim through a breaking sea, like yonder."
"I think I can do it," the boy said, quietly. "I have been out in as heavy seas before, and if one does but choose one's time, and humor them a bit, the waves are not much to be feared, after all.
"Get me the light line," he said, to the sailors, "and I will be off, at once."
So saying, he carelessly threw off his clothes. The fishermen brought a light line. One end they fastened round his shoulders and, with a cheerful goodbye, he ran down to the water's edge.
The sea was breaking with tremendous violence, and the chance of the lad's getting out, through the breakers, appeared slight, indeed. He watched, however, quietly for three or four minutes, when a wave larger than usual broke on the beach. Following it out, he stood knee deep, till the next great wave advanced; then, with a plunge, he dived in beneath it. It seemed an age before he was again seen, and Captain Drake expressed his fear that his head must have been dashed against a rock, beneath the water.
But the men said: "He dives like a duck, sir, and has often frighted us by the time he keeps under water. You will see, he will come up beyond the second line of waves."
It seemed an age, to the watchers, before a black spot appeared suddenly, beyond the foaming line of breakers. There was a general shout of "There he is!" But they had scarce time to note the position of the swimmer, when he again disappeared. Again and again he came up, each time rapidly decreasing the distance between himself and the shipwrecked vessel; and keeping his head above the waves for a few seconds, only, at each appearance.
The people in the vessel were watching the progress of the lad, with attention and interest even greater than was manifested by those on shore; and as he approached the ship, which already showed signs of breaking up, a line was thrown to him. He caught it, but instead of holding on and being lifted to the ship, he fastened the light rope which he had brought out to it, and made signs to them to haul.
"Fasten a thicker rope to it," he shouted, "and they will haul it in, from the shore."
It would have been no easy matter to get on board the ship; so, having done his work, the lad turned to make his way back to the shore.
A thick rope was fastened, at once, by those of the crew who still remained on the deck of the vessel, to the lighter one; and those on shore began to pull it rapidly in; but, ere the knotted joint reached the shore, a cry from all gathered on the beach showed that the brave attempt of the Otter had been useless. A tremendous sea had struck the ship, and in a moment it broke up; and a number of floating fragments, alone, showed where a fine vessel had, a few minutes before, floated on the sea.
The lad paused in his course towards the shore and, looking round, endeavored to face the driving wind and spray; in hopes that he might see, among the fragments of the wreck, some one to whom his assistance might be of use. For a time, he could see no signs of a human being among the floating masses of wreck; and indeed, he was obliged to use great caution in keeping away from these, as a blow from any of the larger spars might have been fatal.
Presently, close to him, he heard a short muffled bark; and, looking round, saw a large dog with a child in its mouth. The animal, which was of the mastiff breed, appeared already exhausted. The Otter looked hastily round and, seeing a piece of wreck of suitable size, he seized it, and with some difficulty succeeded in bringing it close to the dog. Fortunately the spar was a portion of one of the yards, and still had a quantity of rope connected to it. He now took hold of the child's clothes, the dog readily yielding up the treasure he had carried, seeing that the newcomer was likely to afford better assistance than himself.
In a few moments the child was fastened to the spar, and the Otter began steadily to push it towards the shore; the dog swimming alongside, evidently much relieved at getting rid of his burden. When he neared the line of breakers the lad waved his hand, as a sign to them to prepare to rush forward, and lend a hand, when the spar approached. He then paddled forward quietly and, keeping just outside the line of the breakers, waved to those on shore to throw, if possible, a rope. Several attempts were made to hurl a stone, fastened to the end of a light line, within his reach.
After many failures, he at last caught the line. This he fastened to the spar, and signaled to those on shore to pull it in; then, side by side with the dog, he followed. Looking round behind him, he watched a great breaker rolling in and, as before, dived as it passed over his head, and rode forward on the swell towards the shore.
Then there was a desperate struggle. At one moment his feet touched the ground, at another he was hauled back and tossed into the whirling sea; sometimes almost losing his consciousness, but ever keeping his head cool, and striving steadily to make progress. Several times he was dashed against the beach with great force, and it was his knowledge that the only safe way of approaching shore, through a heavy surf, is to keep sideways to the waves, and allow them to roll one over and over, that he escaped death--for, had he advanced straight towards the shore, the force of the waves would have rolled him heels-over-head, and would almost certainly have broken his neck.
At last, just as consciousness was leaving him, and he thought that he could struggle no more, a hand grasped his arm. The fishermen, joining hand in hand, had gone down into the surf; and after many ineffectual efforts, had at last seized him, as a retiring wave was carrying him out again, for the fifth time.
With the consciousness of rescue all feeling left him, and it was some minutes before he recovered his senses. His first question was for the safety of the child on the spar, and he was glad to hear that it had come to shore without hurt. The dog, too, had been rolled up the beach, and seized before taken off again, but had broken one of its legs.
The Otter was soon on his feet again and, saying, "I must make my way home, they will be alarmed about me," was about to turn away, when a group of gentlemen standing near advanced.
"You are a fine lad," one of them said to him. "A fine lad, and an honor to the south of Devonshire. My name is Francis Drake, and if there be aught that I can do for you, now or hereafter, I shall be glad, indeed, to do my utmost for so gallant a youth as yourself."
"Oh, sir!" the boy exclaimed, his cheek flushing with excitement. "If you are Master Francis Drake, will you let me join your ship, for the voyage to the Indies?"
"Ah! my boy," the gentleman said, "you have asked the only thing, perhaps, which I should feel obliged to refuse you. Already we have more than our number, and to avoid the importunity of the many who wish to go, or of my powerful friends who desired to place sons or relations in my charge, I have been obliged to swear that I would take no other sailor, in addition to those already shipped.
"You are, however, young," he said, as he marked the change in the boy's face; "and I promise you that if I come back, and again sail on an expedition like that on which I now start, that you shall be one of my crew. What is your name, lad? I hear them call you Otter, and truly the beast is no better swimmer than you are."
"My name, sir, is Ned Hearne. My father is the schoolmaster here."
"Will he consent, think you, to your taking to a seafaring life?"
"Methinks he will, sir. He knows that my heart is set upon it, for he hath often said if I loved my lessons with one-tenth of the love I bear for the sea, I should make a good scholar, and be a credit to him."
"I will not forget you, lad. Trust me, and when you hear of my return, fail not to send a reminder, and to claim a place in my next adventure."
Ned Hearne, delighted at the assurance, ran off at full speed to the cottage where his father resided, at the end of the village. The dominie, who was an old man, wore the huge tortoise-shell rimmed spectacles of the time.
"Wet again," he said, as his son burst into the room in which he was sitting, studying a Greek tome. "Truly thou earnest the name of which thou art so proud, Otter, hardly. What tempted thee to go into the water, on a day like this?"
Ned briefly explained what had taken place. The story was no unusual one, for this was the third time that he had swum out to vessels on the rocks between Westport and Plymouth. Then he related to his father how Captain Francis Drake had spoken to him, and praised him, and how he had promised that, on his next trip to the West Indies, he would take him with him.
"I would not have you count too much upon that," the dominie said, dryly. "It is like, indeed, that he may never come back from this hare-brain adventure; and if he brings home his skin safe, he will, methinks, have had enough of burning in the sun, and fighting the Spaniards."
"But hath he not already made two or three voyages thither, Father?" the boy asked.
"That is true enough," said his father; "but from what I gather, these were mere trips to spy out the land. This affair on which he starts now will be, I wot, a very different matter."
"How is it, Father," the boy said on the following morning, resuming the conversation from the point which they were at when he went up to change his wet clothes, the day before, "that when England is at peace with Spain, our sailors and the Spanish do fight bloodily, in the West Indies?"
"That, my son, is a point upon which the Roman law telleth us nothing. I have, in my shelves, some very learned treatises on war; but in none do I find mention of a state of things in which two powers, at peace at home, do fight desperately at the extreme end of the earth."
"But, Father, do you think it not lawful to kill the Spaniard, and to take the treasures which he robbeth from the poor heathen of the West?"
"I know not about lawful, my son, but I see no warrant whatsoever for it; and as for heathen, indeed, it appears to me that the attacks upon him do touch, very closely, upon piracy upon the high seas. However, as the country in general appeareth to approve of it, and as it is said that the queen's most gracious majesty doth gladly hear of the beating of the Spaniards, in those seas, it becometh not me to question the rights of the case."
"At any rate, Father, you would not object when the time comes for me to sail with Mr. Francis Drake?"
"No, my boy; thou hast never shown any aptitude whatever for learning. Thou canst read and write, but beyond that thy knowledge runneth not. Your mind seems to be set on the water, and when you are not in it you are on it. Therefore it appears, to me, to be flying in the face of Providence to try to keep you on shore. Had your poor mother lived, it would have been a different thing. Her mind was set upon your becoming a clerk; but there, one might as well try to make a silk purse from the ear of a sow. But I tell you again, count not too much upon this promise. It may be years before Mr. Francis Drake may be in a position to keep it."
Had Ned Hearne watched for Captain Drake's second voyage, he would, indeed, as his father had said, have waited long. Three days after the conversation, however, a horseman from Plymouth rode into the little village, and inquired for the house of Master Hearne. Being directed thither, he rode up in haste to the gate.
"Here is a letter!" he cried, "for the son of the schoolmaster, who goes by the name of the Otter."
"I am he," Ned cried. "What is it, and who can have written to me?"
"It is a letter from His Honor, the Worshipful Mr. Francis Drake."
Seizing the letter, Ned broke the seal, read a few lines, threw his cap into the air with a shout of joy, and rushed in to his father.
"Father," he said, "Captain Drake has written to acquaint me that one of the boys in his ship has been taken ill, and cannot go; and that it has pleased him to appoint me to go in his place; and that I am to be at Plymouth in three days, at the utmost, bringing with me what gear I may require for the expedition."
The schoolmaster was a little taken aback at this sudden prospect of departure, but he had always been wholly indulgent to his son, and it was not in his nature to refuse to allow him to avail himself of an opportunity which appeared to be an excellent one. The danger of these expeditions was, no doubt, very great; but the spoils were in proportion, and there was not a boy or man of the seafaring population of Devon who would not gladly have gone with the adventurous captains.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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2
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: Friends and Foes.
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Three days after the receipt of the letter, Ned Hearne stood with his bundle on the quay at Plymouth. Near him lay a large rowboat from the ships, waiting to take off the last comers. A little way behind, Captain Francis Drake and his brother, Captain John Drake, talked with the notable people of Plymouth, who had come down to bid them farewell; the more since this was a holiday, being Whitsun Eve, the 24th May, and all in the town who could spare time had made their way down to the Hove to watch the departure of the expedition; for none could say how famous this might become, or how great deeds would be accomplished by the two little craft lying there. Each looker on thought to himself that it might be that, to the end of his life, he should tell his children and his children's children, with pride, "I saw Mr. Drake start for his great voyage."
Small, indeed, did the fleet appear, in comparison to the work which it had to do. It was composed of but two vessels. The first, the Pacha, of seventy tons, carrying forty-seven men and boys, was commanded by Captain Francis Drake himself. By her side was the Swanne, of twenty-five tons, carrying twenty-six men and boys, and commanded by Captain John Drake. This was truly but a small affair to undertake so great a voyage.
In those days the Spaniards were masters of the whole of South America, and of the Isles of the West Indies. They had many very large towns full of troops, and great fleets armed to carry the treasure which was collected there to Spain. It did seem almost like an act of madness that two vessels, which by the side of those of the Spaniards were mere cockleshells, manned in all by less than eighty men, should attempt to enter a region where they would be regarded, and rightly, as enemies, and where the hand of every man would be against them.
Captain Drake and his men thought little of these things. The success which had attended their predecessors had inspired the English sailors with a belief in their own invincibility, when opposed to the Spaniards. They looked, to a certain extent, upon their mission as a crusade. In those days England had a horror of Popery, and Spain was the mainstay and supporter of this religion. The escape which England had had of having Popery forced upon it, during the reign of Mary, by her spouse, Philip of Spain, had been a narrow one; and even now, it was by no means certain that Spain would not, sooner or later, endeavor to carry out the pretensions of the late queen's husband. Then, too, terrible tales had come of the sufferings of the Indians at the hands of the Spaniards; and it was certain that the English sailors who had fallen into the hands of Spain had been put to death, with horrible cruelty. Thus, then, the English sailors regarded the Spaniards as the enemy of their country, as the enemy of their religion, and as the enemy of humanity. Besides which, it cannot be denied that they viewed them as rich men, well worth plundering; and although, when it came to fighting, it is probable that hatred overbore the thought of gain, it is certain that the desire for gold was, in itself, the main incentive to those who sailed upon these expeditions.
Amid the cheers of the townsfolk the boats pushed off, Mr. Francis Drake and his brother waving their plumed hats to the burghers of Plymouth, and the sailors giving a hurrah, as they bent to the oars. Ned Hearne, who had received a kind word of greeting from Mr. Drake, had taken his place in the bow of one of the boats, lost in admiration at the scene; and at the thought that he was one of this band of heroes, who were going out to fight the Spaniards, and to return laden with countless treasure wrested from them. At the thought his eyes sparkled, his blood seemed to dance through his veins.
The western main, in those days, was a name almost of enchantment. Such strange tales had been brought home, by the voyagers who had navigated those seas, of the wonderful trees, the bright birds, the beauties of nature, the gold and silver, and the abundance of all precious things, that it was the dream of every youngster on the seaboard some day to penetrate to these charmed regions. A week since, and the realization of the dream had appeared beyond his wildest hopes. Now, almost with the suddenness of a transformation scene, this had changed; and there was he on his way out to the Swanne, a part of the expedition itself. It was to the Swanne that he had been allotted, for it was on board that ship that the boy whose place he was to take had been seized with illness.
Although but twenty-five tons in burden, the Swanne made a far greater show than would be made by a craft of that size in the present day. The ships of the time lay but lightly on the water, while their hulls were carried up to a prodigious height; and it is not too much to say that the portion of the Swanne, above water, was fully as large as the hull which we see of a merchantman of four times her tonnage. Still, even so, it was but a tiny craft to cross the Atlantic, and former voyages had been generally made in larger ships.
Mr. Francis Drake, however, knew what he was about. He considered that large ships required large crews to be left behind to defend them, that they drew more water, and were less handy; and he resolved, in this expedition, he would do no small part of his work with pinnaces and rowboats; and of these he had three fine craft, now lying in pieces in his hold, ready to fit together on arriving in the Indies.
As they neared the ships the two boats separated, and Ned soon found himself alongside of the Swanne. A ladder hung at her side, and up this Ned followed his captain; for in those days the strict etiquette that the highest goes last had not been instituted.
"Master Holyoake," said Mr. John Drake, to a big and powerful-looking man standing near, "this is the new lad, whose skill in swimming, and whose courage, I told you of yesternight. He will, I doubt not, be found as willing as he is brave; and I trust that you will put him in the way of learning his business as a sailor. It is his first voyage. He comes on board a green hand, but I doubt not that, ere the voyage be finished, he will have become a smart young sailor."
"I will put him through," John Holyoake, sailing master of the ship, replied; for in those days the sailing master was the navigator of the ship, and the captain was as often as not a soldier, who knew nothing whatever about seamanship. The one sailed the ship, the other fought it; and the admirals were, in those days, more frequently known as generals, and held that position on shore.
As Ned looked round the deck, he thought that he had never seen a finer set of sailors. All were picked men, hardy and experienced, and for the most part young. Some had made previous voyages to the West Indies, but the greater portion were new to that country. They looked the men on whom a captain could rely, to the last. Tall and stalwart, bronzed with the sun, and with a reckless and fearless expression about them, which boded ill to any foes upon whom they might fall.
Although Ned had never been to sea on a long voyage, he had sailed too often in the fishing boats of his native village to have any qualm of seasickness, or to feel in any degree like a new hand. He was, therefore, at once assigned to a place and duty.
An hour later the admiral, as Mr. Francis Drake was called, fired a gun, the two vessels hoisted their broad sails and turned their heads from shore, and the crews of both ships gave a parting cheer, as they turned their faces to the south.
As Ned was not in the slightest degree either homesick or seasick, he at once fell to work, laughing and joking with the other boys, of whom there were three on board. He found that their duties consisted of bearing messages, of hauling any rope to which they were told to fix themselves, and in receiving, with as good a face as might be, the various orders, to say nothing of the various kicks, which might be bestowed upon them by all on board. At the same time their cheerful countenances showed that these things which, when told, sounded a little terrible, were in truth in no way serious.
Ned was first shown where he was to sling his hammock, and how; where he was to get his food; and under whose orders he was specially to consider himself; the master, for the present, taking him under his own charge. For the next ten days, as the vessel sailed calmly along, with a favoring wind, Ned had learned all the names of the ropes and sails, and their uses; could climb aloft, and do his share of the work of the ship; and if not yet a skilled sailor, was at least on the high road to become one. The master was pleased at his willingness and eagerness to oblige, and he soon became a great favorite of his.
Between the four boys on the ship a good feeling existed. All had been chosen as a special favor, upon the recommendation of one or other of those in authority. Each of them had made up his mind that, one of these days, he, too, would command an expedition to the West Indies. Each thought of the glory which he would attain; and although, in the hearts of many of the elder men in the expedition, the substantial benefits to be reaped stood higher than any ideas of glory or honor; to the lads, at least, pecuniary gain exercised no inducement whatever. They burned to see the strange country, and to gain some of the credit and glory which would, if the voyage was successful, attach to each member of the crew. All were full of fun, and took what came to them, in the way of work, so good temperedly and cheerfully, that the men soon ceased to give them work for work's sake.
They were, too, a strong and well-built group of boys. Ned was by a full year the youngest, and by nigh a head the shortest of them; but his broad shoulders and sturdy build, and the strength acquired by long practice in swimming and rowing, made him their equal.
There were, however, no quarrels among them, and their strength they agreed to use in alliance, if need be, should any of the crew make a dead set at one or other of them; for even in an expedition like this there must be some brutal, as well as many brave men. There were assuredly two or three, at least, of those on board the Swanne who might well be called brutal. They were for the most part old hands, who had lived on board ship half their lives, had taken part in the slave traffic of Captain Hawkins, and in the buccaneering exploits of the earlier commanders. To them the voyage was one in which the lust of gold was the sole stimulant; and, accustomed to deeds of bloodshed, what feelings they ever had had become utterly blunted, and they needed but the power to become despotic and brutal masters.
The chief among these was Giles Taunton, the armorer He was a swarthy ruffian, who hid, beneath the guise of a jovial bonhomie, a cruel and unfeeling nature. He was ever ready to cuff and beat the boys, on the smallest provocation.
They soon gathered together, in a sort of defensive league, against their common oppressors. All four were high-spirited lads. The other three, indeed, were sons of men of substance in Devon, whose fathers had lent funds to Captain Drake for the carrying out of his great enterprise. They therefore looked but ill on the kicks and curses which, occasionally, fell to their lot.
One day they gathered together round the bowsprit, and talked over what they should do. Gerald Summers, the eldest of the party, proposed that they should go in a body to Captain Drake, and complain of the tyranny to which they were subject. After some talk, however, all agreed that such a course as this would lower them in the estimation of the men, and that it would be better to put up with the ill treatment than, to get the name of tell tales.
Ned then said to the others: "It seems to me that, if we do but hold together, we need not be afraid of this big bully. If we all declare to each other and swear that, the first time he strikes one of us, we will all set upon him; my faith on it, we shall be able to master him, big as he is. We are all of good size, and in two years will think ourselves men; therefore it would be shame, indeed, if the four of us could not master one, however big and sturdy he may be."
After much consultation, it was agreed that this course should be adopted; and the next day, as Reuben Gale was passing by Giles, he turned round and struck him on the head with a broom. The boy gave a long whistle, and in a moment, to the astonishment of the armorer, the other three lads rushed up, and at once assailed him with fury. Astonished at such an attack, he struck out at them with many strange oaths. Gerald he knocked down, but Ned leaped on his back from behind, and the other two, closing with him, rolled him on to the deck; then, despite of his efforts, they pummeled him until his face was swollen and bruised, and his eyes nearly closed.
Some of the men of his own sort, standing by, would fain have interfered; but the better disposed of the crew, who had seen, with disgust, the conduct of the armorer and his mates to the boys, held them back, and said that none should come between.
Just as the boys drew off, and allowed the furious armorer to rise to his feet, Captain John Drake, attracted by the unusual noise, came from his cabin.
"What is this?" he asked.
"These young wild cats have leapt upon me," said Giles Taunton furiously, "and have beaten me nigh to death. But I will have my turn. They will see, and bitterly shall they have cause to regret what they have done."
"We have been driven almost weary of our lives, sir, with the foul and rough conduct of this man, and of some of his mates," Gerald said. "We did not like to come to tell you of it, and to gain the name of carry tales; but we had resolved among ourselves at last that, whoever struck one of us, the whole should set upon him. Today we have carried it out, and we have shown Giles Taunton that we are more than a match for one man, at any rate."
"Four good-sized dogs, if they are well managed," said Captain John Drake, "will pull down a lion; and the best thing that the lion can do is to leave them alone.
"I am sorry to hear, Master Taunton, that you have chosen to mistreat these lads; who are, indeed, the sons of worthy men, and are not the common kind of ship boys. I am sure that my brother would not brook such conduct, and I warn you that, if any complaint again on this head reaches me, I shall lay it before him."
With angry mutterings, the armorer went below.
"We have earned a bitter foe," Ned said to his friends, "and we had best keep our eyes well open. There is very little of the lion about Master Taunton. He is strong, indeed; but if it be true that the lion has a noble heart, and fights his foes openly, methinks he resembles rather the tiger, who is prone to leap suddenly upon his enemies."
"Yes, indeed, he looked dark enough," Gerald said, "as he went below; and if looks could have killed us, we should not be standing here alive, at present."
"It is not force that we need fear now, but that he will do us some foul turn; at all events, we are now forewarned, and if he plays us a scurvy trick it will be our own faults."
For several days the voyage went on quietly, and without adventure. They passed at a distance the Portuguese Isle of Madeira, lying like a cloud on the sea. The weather now had become warm and very fair, a steady wind blew, and the two barks kept along at a good pace.
All sorts of creatures, strange to the boys, were to be seen in the sea. Sometimes there was a spout of a distant whale. Thousands of flying fish darted from the water, driven thence by the pursuit of their enemies beneath; while huge flocks of gulls and other birds hovered over the sea, chasing the flying fish, or pouncing down upon the shoals of small fry; whose splashings whitened the surface of the water, as if a sandbank had laid below it.
Gradually, as the time went on, the heat increased. Many of the crew found themselves unable to sleep below, for in those days there was but little thought of ventilation. The boys were among these, for the heat and the confinement were, to them, especially irksome.
One day the wind had fallen almost to a calm, and the small boat had been lowered, to enable the carpenter to do some repair to the ship's side, where a seam leaked somewhat, when the waves were high. When night came on, and all was quiet, Ned proposed to the others that they should slip down the rope over the stern into the boat which was towing behind; where they could sleep undisturbed by the tramp of the sentry, or the call to pull at ropes and trim sails.
The idea was considered a capital one, and the boys slid down into the boat; where, taking up their quarters as comfortably as they could, they, after a short chat, curled themselves up and were soon sound asleep, intending to be on board again, with the earliest gleam of morn.
When they awoke, however, it was with a start and a cry. The sun was already high, but there were no signs whatever of the ship; they floated, alone, in the mid-ocean. With blank amazement they looked at each other.
"This is a stroke of misfortune, indeed," Gerald said. "We have lost the ship, and I fear our lives, as well.
"What do you say, Otter?"
For the lad's nickname had come on board ship with him, and he was generally known by it.
"It seems to me," said Ned, "that our friend the armorer has done us this bad turn. I am sure that the rope was well tied, for I was the first who slipped down it, and I looked at the knot well, before I went over the side and trusted my weight to it. He must have seen us, and as soon as he thought we were fairly asleep must have loosened the knot and cast us adrift. What on earth is to be done, now?"
"I should think," Gerald said, "that it will not be long before the ship comes back for us. The boat is sure to be missed, in the morning, for the carpenter will be wanting it to go over the side. We, too, will be missed, for the captain will be wanting his flagon of wine, soon after the day has dawned."
"But think you," Tom Tressilis said, "that the captain will turn back on his voyage, for us?"
"Of that I think there is no doubt," Gerald said; "the only question is as to the finding us, but I should say that of that there is little fear; the wind is light, the ship was not making fast through the water, and will not be more than fifty miles, at most, away, when she turns on her heel and comes to look for us. I expect that Master Taunton knew, well enough, that we should be picked up again; but he guessed that the admiral would not be pleased at losing a day, by our freak, and that the matter is not likely to improve the favor in which we may stand with him and his brother."
"It is going to be a terrible hot day," Ned said, "and with the sun above our heads and no shade, and not so much as a drop of water, the sooner we are picked up the more pleasant it will be, even if we all get a touch of the rope's end for our exploit."
All day the boys watched anxiously. Once they saw the two vessels sailing backward on their track, but the current had drifted the boat, and the ships passed fully eight miles away to windward of them, and thus without seeing them. This caused the boys, courageous as they were, almost to despair.
"If," argued Gerald, "they pass us in the daylight, our chance is small, indeed, that they will find us at night. They will, doubtless, sail back till dusk; and then judge that they have missed us, or that we have in some way sunk; then, putting their heads to the west, they will continue their voyage.
"If we had oars, or a sail, we might make a shift to pull the boat into the track they are following, which would give us a chance of being picked up when they again turn west; but as we have neither one nor the other, we are helpless, indeed."
"I do not think," Ned said, "that Captain John or his brother are the men to leave us, without a great effort; and methinks that, when they have sailed over the ground to the point where, at the utmost, we must have parted from them, they will lay by through the night, and search back again, tomorrow."
And so it proved. On the morrow, about midday, the boys beheld one of the ships coming up, nearly in a line behind them; while the other, some six miles away to leeward, was keeping abreast of her.
"They are quartering the ground, like hounds," Gerald said; "and, thanks to their care and thoughtfulness, we are saved, this time."
By the time that, three hours later, the ship, which was the Pacha, came alongside, the boys were suffering terribly from the heat and thirst; for thirty-six hours no drop of water had passed their lips, and the sun had blazed down upon them with terrible force. Therefore when the vessel hauled her course, and laid by for a boat to be lowered to pick them up, their plight was so bad a one that Captain Francis, although sorely vexed at having lost near two days of his voyage, yet felt that they had been amply punished for their escapade.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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3
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: On the Spanish Main.
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The four boys, upon gaining the Pacha's deck, were taken below; and after drink and food had been given them, were called to the captain's cabin. He spoke to them gravely, and inquired how it was that they had all got adrift, together. They told him the circumstances, and said that they thought there was no chance of any mishap occurring; the knot was well fastened, the night was calm, and though they regretted much the pains and trouble which they had given, and the delay to which they had put the fleet, yet it did not appear to them, they said frankly, that they had been so very much to blame, as they could hardly have believed that the boat would have broken afloat; and indeed, Ned said plainly, they believed that it was not the result of chance, but that an enemy had done them an evil turn.
"Why think you so?" Captain Drake said sharply. "How can boys like you have an enemy?"
Gerald then detailed the account of their trouble with Master Taunton.
"He is a rough man," Captain Drake said, "and a violent man, maybe, but he is useful and brave. However, I will have reason with him. Of course it is a mere suspicion, but I will speak to my brother."
When the boat had first come in sight, the Pacha had made the signal to the Swanne that the boys were found, and that she was to keep her course, drawing gradually alongside. Before dark the vessels were within hailing distance, and Captain Drake, lowering a boat, went himself on board the Swanne with the four lads. Captain John was at the top of the ladder, and was about to rate them soundly.
Captain Francis said, "Let us talk together, John, first;" and he repaired with him to his cabin, while the crew swarmed round the boys, to gather an account of how they got adrift.
Then Captain John appeared at the door of his cabin, and called for Master Taunton, who went in and remained, for some time, in converse with the two captains. Then he came out, looking surly and black, and Captain Francis soon after issued out with his brother, walked round the ship, said a few cheery words to all the crew; and, with a parting laugh and word of advice to the boys, to be more careful where they slept in future, descended the side and went off to his ship again.
Opinions were much mingled, on board the Swanne, as to whether the slipping of the knot had been the effect of accident or of an evil turn; however, the boys said little about it, and endeavored, so far as might be, to let it pass as an accident. They felt that the matter between themselves and Master Taunton had already gone too far for their safety and comfort. They doubted not that he had been reprimanded by the admiral, as well as by Captain John, and that they had earned his hatred; which, although it might slumber for a while, was likely to show itself again, when a chance might occur.
Not wishing to inflame farther his fury against them, they abstained from giving such a complexion to their tale as might seem to cast a suspicion upon him. Nevertheless there was a strong feeling, amongst many of the crew, that Master Taunton must have had a hand in the casting adrift of the boys; or that if he did not himself do it, it had been done by one of the party who always worked with him.
Whatever the feelings of Giles Taunton might be, he kept them to himself. He now never interfered with the boys, by word or deed, working sullenly and quietly at his craft as armorer The boys felt their lives much lightened thereby, and now thoroughly enjoyed the voyage.
Although as boys it was not a part of their duty to go aloft, which was done by the regular sailors who were hired for the purpose, yet they spent no small part of their time, when not engaged--and their duties truly were but nominal--in going aloft, sliding down the ropes, and learning to be thoroughly at home among the sails.
Every day, too, there would be practices with arms. It was of the utmost importance that each man should be able to use sword and axe with the greatest skill; and on board each ship those who were best skilled would exercise and give lessons to those who were less practiced with their arms; and, using wooden clubs in place of boarding axes, they would much belabor each other, to the amusement of the lookers on. The boys were most assiduous at this kind of work. It was their highest ambition to become good swordsmen, and to have a chance of distinguishing themselves against the Spaniards; and so they practiced diligently, with point and edge. The knowledge of singlestick and quarterstaff still lingered, in the country parts of England. They had all already some skill with these, and picked up fast the use of the heavier, and more manly arms.
It was the end of July before they sighted land. Great was the delight of all; for, cooped up in what were after all but narrow quarters, they longed for a sight of the green and beautiful forests, of which they had heard so much. They were still far from the destination which the admiral had marked as his base of operations. They cruised along for days, with the land often in sight, but keeping for the most part a long distance out; for they feared that the knowledge of their coming might be carried, by the natives, to the Spaniards in the towns; and that such preparations might be made as would render their journey fruitless.
Near, however, to some of the smaller islands, which were known to be uninhabited by Spaniards, the vessels went closely, and one day dropped anchor in a bay. They observed some natives on the shore, but the white men had so bad a name, caused by the cruelty of the Spaniards, that these withdrew hastily from sight. The captain, however, had a boat lowered; which, pulling towards shore, and waving a white flag in token of amity, met with no resistance. There were on board some who could speak Spanish, and one of these shouted aloud to the Indians to have no fear, for that they were friends, and haters of the Spaniards; whereupon the natives came out from the woods, and greeted them.
They were a fine race of men, but gentle and timid in their demeanor They were copper in color, and wore headdresses of bright feathers, but the men had but little other clothing; of which, indeed, in such a climate, there is but slight necessity.
In exchange for some trifles from the ship they brought many baskets of fruits, such as none of those who had fresh come from England had ever before seen. Great was the joy on board ship, especially among the four boys, at the profusion of strange fruits; and they were seen, seated together, eating pineapples, bananas, and many other things of which they knew not so much as the name, but which they found delicious, indeed, after so long a voyage upon salted food.
Then, sailing on, they dropped anchor in the bay which Captain Drake had himself christened, during his last voyage, Port Pheasant; for they had killed many of this kind of bird there. Here the admiral purposed waiting for a while, to refresh the crews and to put the pinnaces together. Accordingly the anchors were put out, and all was made snug.
A boat's crew was sent on shore to see that all was safe, for there was no saying where the Spaniards might be lurking. They returned with a great plate of lead, which they had found fastened to a tree, close to the water's edge. Upon it were these words: "Captain Drake, if it is your fortune to come into this part, make haste away; for the Spaniards which were with you here, last year, have betrayed the place; and taken away all that you left here. I departed hence on this present 7th July, 1572. Your very loving friend, John Garrett."
"I would I had been here a few days earlier," Captain Drake said, when he read this notice, "for John Garrett would assuredly have joined us, and his aid would have been no slight assistance in the matter in which we are about to engage. However, it will not do to despise his caution; therefore, lest we be attacked while on shore by the Spaniards, we will even make a fort; and we shall be able to unload our stores, and put our pinnaces together, without fear of interruption."
The crew were now landed; and set to work, with hatchet and bill, to clear a plot of ground. Three quarters of an acre was, after three days' work, cleared; and the trees were cast outwards, and piled together in such form as to make a sort of wall, 30 feet high, round it. This hard work done, most of the crew were allowed a little liberty; the carpenters, and experienced artificers, being engaged in putting the three pinnaces together.
The boys, in pairs, for all could never obtain leave together, rambled in the woods, full of admiration for the beauties of nature. Huge butterflies flitted about upon the brilliant flowers. Long trailing creepers, rich with blossom, hung on the trees. Here and there, as they passed along, snakes slipped away among the undergrowth; and these, in truth, the boys were as ready to leave alone as the reptiles were to avoid them, for they were told that it was certain death to be bitten by these creatures. Most of all the boys admired the little birds, which indeed it was hard for them to believe not to be butterflies, so small were they, so rapid their movements, and so brilliant their color.
On the 7th day from landing the pinnaces were finished; and, the vessels being anchored near the shore, the crews went on board for the last time, preparatory to making their start the next day.
There was one tall and bright-faced sailor with whom the boys had struck up a great friendship. He had sailed before with Captain Drake; and as the evening was cool, and there was naught to do, they begged him to tell them of his former visits in the Caribbean Seas.
"My first," he said, "was the worst, and might well have been my last. Captain John Hawkins was our captain, a bold man and a good sailor; but not gentle as well as brave, as is our good Captain Francis. Our fleet was a strong one. The admiral's ship, the Jesus, of Lubeck, was 700 tons. Then there were the smaller craft; the Minion, Captain Hampton, in which I myself sailed; the William and John of Captain Boulton; the Judith with Captain Francis Drake; and two little ships, besides. We sailed later in the year. It was the 2nd October, five years back; that is, 1567. We started badly, for a storm struck us off Finisterre, the ships separated, and some boats were lost.
"We came together at Cape de Verde, and there we tried to get slaves; for it was part of the object of our voyage to buy slaves on the coast of Africa, and sell them to the Spaniards, here. It was a traffic for which I myself had but little mind; for though it be true that these black fellows are a pernicious race, given to murder, and to fightings of all kinds among themselves, yet are they human beings; and it is, methinks, cruel to send them beyond the seas into slavery, so far from their homes and people. But it was not for me, a simple mariner, to argue the question with our admirals and captains; and I have heard many worshipful merchants are engaged in the traffic.
"However that be, methinks that our good Captain Francis did, likewise, turn himself against this kind of traffic in human flesh; for although he has been three times, since, in these regions, he has never again taken a hand in it.
"With much to do at Cape de Verde, we succeeded in getting a hundred and fifty men; but not without much resistance from the natives, who shot their arrows at us, and wounded many; and most of those who were wounded did die of lock-jaw, for the arrows had been smeared in some poisonous stuff. Then we went farther down the coast, and took in two hundred more.
"Coasting still farther down, to Saint Jorge de Mina, we landed; and Captain Hawkins found that the negro king there was at war with an enemy, a little farther inland. He besought our assistance, and promised us plenty of slaves, if we would go there and storm the place with him. Captain Hawkins agreed, cheerfully enough; and set off, with a portion of his crews, to assist the king.
"The enemy fought well, and it was only after a very hard fight on our part, and a loss of many men, that we took the town. Methinks the two hundred and fifty slaves which we took there were dearly paid for; and there was much grumbling, among the ships, at the reckless way in which our admiral had risked our lives, for meager gain. It is true that these slaves would sell at a high price, yet none of us looked upon money, gained in that way, quite as we do upon treasure taken in fair fight. In the one case we traffic with the Spaniards, who are our natural enemies; and it is repugnant, to a Christian man, to hand over even these poor negroes to such willful masters as these; in the other we are fighting for our queen and country. The Spaniards are the natural enemies of all good Protestants, and every ship we see, and every treasure bag we capture, does something to pare the nails of that fierce and haughty power.
"Having filled up our hold with the slaves which we had captured at Saint Jorge de Mina, we turned our back upon the African coast, and sailed to the West Indies. At Rio de Hacha, the first port at which we touched, the people did not wish to trade with us; but the admiral was not the man to allow people to indulge in fancies of this kind. We soon forced them to buy, or to sell, that which we chose; and not what they had a fancy for.
"Sailing along, we were caught in a storm; and in searching for the port of Saint Juan d'Ulloa, where we hoped to refit, we captured three ships. In the port we found twelve other small craft, but these we released; and sent some of them to Mexico, to ask that victuals and stores might be sent.
"The next day thirteen great ships appeared off the harbor In them was the Viceroy of Mexico. We had then only the Jesus, the Minion of 100 tons, and the Judith of 50 tons, and this big fleet was large enough to have eaten us; but Captain Hawkins put a good face on it, and sailed out to meet them, waiting at the mouth of the harbor Here he told them haughtily that he should not allow their fleet to enter, save on his terms. I doubt not that Hawkins would have been glad enough to have made off, if he could have done so; for what with the sale of the slaves, and the vessels we had captured, we had now 1,800,000 pounds, in silver and gold, on board of the ships. The Spanish admiral accepted the terms which Captain Hawkins laid down, and most solemnly swore to observe them.
"So with colors flying, both fleets sailed into the harbor together. It is true, however, that the man who places faith in a Spaniard is a fool, and so it proved to us. No sooner had they reached the port than they began to plot, secretly among themselves, how to fall upon us. Even then, though they had thirteen big ships, the smallest of which was larger than the Jesus, they feared to attack us openly.
"Numbers of men were set to work by them on the shore, secretly, to get up batteries by which they might fire into us; while a great ship, having 500 men on board, was moored close alongside the Minion.
"I remember well talking the matter over with Jack Boscowan, who was boatswain on board; and we agreed that this time we had run into an ugly trap, and that we did not see our way out of it. Englishmen can, as all the world knows, lick the Spaniards when they are but as one to five; but when there are twenty of the Dons to one of us, it is clear that the task is a hard one.
"What made it worse was that we were in harbor At sea, our quickness in handling our ships would have made us a match for the Spanish fleet; but at anchor, and with the guns of the port commanding us, we did not truly see how we were to get out of it.
"The fight began by the Spaniards letting their big ship drift alongside the Minion; when, suddenly, 500 men leapt out on our decks. We were beaten below in no time, for we were scarce prepared for so sudden an onslaught. There, however, we defended ourselves stoutly, firing into the hull of the ship alongside, and defending our ports and entrances from the Spaniards.
"For a while our case seemed desperate. The Jesus was hard at work, too; and when she had sunk the ship of the Spanish admiral, she came up, and gave a broadside into the ship alongside of us. Her crew ran swiftly back to her; and we, with much rejoicing, poured on deck again, and began to pay them hotly for their sudden attack upon us.
"It was a great fight, and one that would have done your heart good, to see the three English ships, two of them so small as to be little more than boats, surrounded by a whole fleet of Spaniards, while from on shore the guns of the forts played upon us. Had it not been for those forts, I verily believe that we should have destroyed the Spanish fleet. Already another large vessel had followed the example of their admiral's ship, and had gone to the bottom. Over 540 of their sailors we had, as they have themselves admitted, slain outright.
"We were faring well, and had begun to hope that we might get to find our way out of the toils, when a cry came from the lookout, who said that the Jesus was hoisting signals of distress, and that he feared she was sinking.
"Close as she was lying to a battery, and surrounded by enemies, our bold captain did not hesitate a minute; but sailed the Minion, through a crowd of enemies, close to the Jesus. You should have heard the cheer that the two crews gave each other. It rose above all the noise of the battle, and would assuredly have done your heart good. The Jesus was sinking fast, and it was as much as they could do to tumble into the boats, and to row hastily to our side. We should have saved them all, but the Spaniards, who dared not lay us aboard, and who were in no slight degree troubled by the bravery with which we had fought, set two of their great ships on fire, and launched them down upon us, preferring to lose two of their own ships for the sake of capturing or destroying our little bark. The sight of the ships coming down, in flames, shook the hearts of our men more than all the fury of the Spaniards had been able to do; and without waiting for orders, they turned the ship's head for the mouth of the port.
"The admiral, who had just come on board, cursed and shouted when he saw what was being done; but the panic of the fire ships got the better of the men, and we made off, firing broadsides at the Spaniards' fleet as we passed through them; and aided by the little Judith, which stuck to us through the whole of the fight.
"When we cooled down and came to think of it, we were in no slight degree ashamed of our desertion of our comrades in the Jesus. Fortunately the number so left behind was not large; but we knew that, according to their custom, the Spaniards would put all to death, and so indeed it afterwards turned out, many of them being dispatched with horrible tortures.
"This terrible treatment of the prisoners caused, when it was known, great indignation; and although Queen Elizabeth did not declare war with Spain, from that time she gave every countenance she could to the adventurers who waged war, on their own account, against her.
"The Minion suffered severely, packed close as she was with all her own crew, and a great part of that of the Jesus, vast numbers of whom were wounded. However, at length a hundred were, at their own request, landed and left to shift for themselves, preferring to run the risk of Indians, or even of Spaniards, to continue any longer amid the horrors on board the ship. I myself, boys, was not one of that number, and came back to England in her.
"Truly it was the worst voyage that I ever made, for though fortune was for a time good to us, and we collected much money; yet in the end we lost all, and hardly escaped with our lives. It has seemed to me that this bad fortune was sent as a punishment upon us, for carrying off the negroes into slavery. Many others thought the same, and methinks that that was also the opinion of our present good admiral."
"Did you come out with him, in his further voyages here?" Ned asked.
"I was with him in the Dragon, two years ago, when with the Swanne she came here. Last year I sailed with him in the Swanne, alone."
"You did not have any very stirring adventures?"
"No, we were mainly bent on exploring; but for all that we carried off many prizes, and might, had we been pilgrims, have bought farms in Devonshire, and settled down on our share of the prize money; but there, that is not the way with sailors. Quick come, quick go, and not one in a hundred that I have ever heard of, however much he may have taken as his share of prizes, has ever kept it, or prospered greatly therefrom."
It was now evening, and many of the men had betaken themselves to the water, for a swim. The heat had been great all day, and as it was their last, they had been pressed at work to get the stores, which had been landed, again on board ship; and to finish all up, ready for the division of the party, next day.
"I do not care for bathing here," Ned said, in reply to a sailor, who asked him why he too did not join in the sport. "I confess that I have a dread of those horrible sharks, of which we have heard so much, and whose black fins we see from time to time."
"I should have thought," said the harsh, sneering voice of Giles Taunton, "that an Otter would have been a match for a shark. The swimmers of the South Isles, and indeed the natives here, attack the sharks without fear. I should have thought that anyone who prides himself, as you do, upon swimming, would have been equally willing to encounter them."
"I do not know that I do pride myself on my swimming, Giles Taunton," Ned said composedly; "at any rate, no one has ever heard me speak of such abilities as I may have in that way. As to the natives, they have seen each other fight with sharks, and know how the matter is gone about. If I were to be present a few times, when such strife takes place, it may be that I should not shirk from joining in the sport; but knowing nothing whatever of the method pursued, or of the manner of attack, I should be worse than a fool, were I to propose to venture my life in such a sport."
Many sailors who were standing round approved of what Ned said.
"Aye, aye, lad," one said, "no one would think of making his first jump across the spot where he might be dashed to pieces. Let a man learn to jump on level ground; and then, when he knows his powers, he may go across a deep chasm."
By this time a good many of the men were out of the water, when suddenly there arose the cry of, "Shark!" from the lookout on the poop. There was a great rush for the ship, and the excitement on board was nearly as great as that in the water. Ned quietly dropped off his jacket and his shoes and, seizing a short boarding pike, waited to see what would come of it.
It chanced that his friends, the other boys, were farther out than the men; having, with the ardor of youth, engaged themselves in races, regardless of the admonition that had frequently been given them to keep near the ship; for the terror of these water beasts was very great.
The men all gained the ship in safety, but the shark, which had come up from a direction in which it would cut them off, was clearly likely to arrive before the boys could gain the side. At first it seemed, indeed, that their fate was sealed; but the shark, who in many respects resembles a cat with a mouse, and seems to prefer to trifle with its victim to the last, allowed them to get close to the ship; although, by rapid swimming, it could easily have seized them before.
The nearest to it, as it approached the ship, was Tom Tressilis, who was not so good a swimmer as the others; but he had swum lustily, and with good heart, though his white face showed how great the effect of the danger was upon him. He had not spoken a word, since the shark first made its appearance. As he struck despairingly to gain the ship, from which the sailors were already casting him ropes, his eye caught that of Ned, who cried to him cheerily: "Keep up your spirits, Tom. I will be with you."
As the huge fish swept along, at a distance of some four yards from the side of the ship, and was already turning on its back, opening its huge mouth to seize its victim, Ned dived head foremost from the ship onto him. So great was the force and impetus with which he struck the creature, that it was fairly driven sideways from its course, missing by the nearest shave the leg of Tom Tressilis. Ned himself was half stunned by the force with which his head had struck the fish, for a shark is not so soft a creature to jump against as he had imagined; however, he retained consciousness enough to grasp at the fin of the shark, to which he held on for half a minute.
By this time the shark was recovering from the effects of the sudden blow, and Ned was beginning to be able to reflect. In a moment he plunged the half pike deep into the creature's stomach. Again and again he repeated the stroke; until the shark, rolling over in his agony, and striking furiously with his tail, shook Ned from his hold. He instantly dived beneath the water, and came up at a short distance. The shark was still striking the water furiously, the sailors on board were throwing down upon him shot, pieces of iron, and all sorts of missiles, and some of the best archers were hastily bringing their bows to the side.
The shark caught sight of his opponent, and instantly rushed at him. Ned again dived, just before the creature reached him; and, rising under him, inflicted some more stabs with the pike; then he again swam off, for he was in no slight fear that he might be struck by his friends on board ship, of whose missiles, indeed, he was more in dread than of the shark himself.
When he rose, at a short distance from the shark, he was again prepared for a rush on the part of his enemy; but the great fish had now had enough of it. He was still striking the water, but his movements were becoming slower, for he was weakened by the loss of blood from the stabs he had received from below, and from the arrows, many of which were now buried to the goose quill in him. In a minute or two he gradually turned on one side, and floated, with his white belly in the air.
A shout broke from the crew of the Swanne, and also of the Pacha, who had been attracted to the side by the cries. When he saw that the battle was over, and that the enemy had been vanquished without loss of life, or hurt to any, Ned speedily seized one of the ropes, and climbed up the side of the ship; where he was, you may be sure, received with great cheering, and shouts of joy and approval.
"You are a fine lad," Captain John Drake said, "and your name of Otter has indeed been well bestowed. You have saved the life of your comrade; and I know that my old friend, Mr. Frank Tressilis, his father, will feel indebted indeed to you, when he comes to learn how gallantly you risked your life to preserve that of his son."
Ned said that he saw no credit in the action, and that he was mightily glad to have had an opportunity of learning to do that which the negroes thought nothing of; for that it shamed him to think that these heathens would venture their lives boldly against sharks, while he, an English boy, although a good swimmer, and not, he hoped, wanting in courage, was yet afraid to encounter these fierce brutes.
This incident acted, as might be expected, as a fresh bond between the boys; and as it also secured for Ned the cordial goodwill of the sailors, they were, in future, free from any persecution at the hands of Master Taunton, or of his fellows.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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4
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: An Unsuccessful Attack.
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It should have been said, in its proper place, that upon the day after the arrival of the Pacha and Swanne in Pheasant Bay, a barque named the Isle of Wight, commanded by James Rause, with thirty men on board, many of whom had sailed with Captain Drake upon his previous voyages, came into the port; and there was great greeting between the crews of the various ships. Captain Rause brought with him a Spanish caravel, captured the day before; and a shallop also, which he had taken at Cape Blanco. This was a welcome reinforcement, for the crews of the two ships were but small for the purpose which they had in hand, especially as it would be necessary to leave a party to take charge of the vessels. Captain Drake made some proposals to Captain Rause, which the latter accepted, and it was arranged that he and his crew would be, for a time, under the command of Captain Drake.
When the division of the crews was made, it was decided that James Rause should remain in command of the four ships at Pheasant Bay; and that Captain Drake, with fifty-three of his own men and twenty of Rause's, should start in the three pinnaces and the shallop for Nombre de Dios.
The first point at which they stopped was the Isle of Pines, on the 22nd July. Here they put in to water the boats and, as the crews had been cramped from their stay therein, Captain Drake decided to give them a day on shore. Ned and Reuben Gale were of the party, the other two being, to their great discontent, left behind in the ship.
After the barriques had been filled with water, the fires lit for cooking, and the labors of the day over, Ned and Reuben started for a ramble in the island, which was of a goodly extent. When they had proceeded some distance in the wood, picking fruit as they went, and looking at the butterflies and bright birds, they were suddenly seized and thrown upon the ground by some men, who sprang out from the underwood through which they had passed. They were too surprised at this sudden attack to utter even a cry; and, being safely gagged and bound, they were lifted by their captors, and carried away into the interior of the island.
After an hour's passage they were put down in the heart of a thick grove of trees and, looking round, saw they were surrounded by a large number of natives. One of these, a person evidently in authority, spoke to them in a language which they did not understand. They shook their heads, and after several times attempting to make them comprehend, Ned caught the words Espanolos.
To this he vehemently shook his head in denial, which caused quite an excitement among his hearers. One of the latter then said "English," to which Ned and his companion nodded.
The news evidently filled the natives with great joy. The bands were taken off the boys, and the Indians endeavored, by gestures, to express the sorrow that they felt for having carried them off. It was clear that they had taken them for Spaniards, and that they had been watched as they wandered inland, and captured for the purpose of learning the objects and force of the expedition. Now, however, that their captors understood that the ships were English, with great signs of pleasure they started with them for the seashore.
It had already darkened when they arrived there, and the crews of the boats jumped hastily to their feet, at the sight of so many persons approaching. Ned, however, called to them just as they were about to betake themselves to their arms, and shouted that the natives were perfectly friendly, and well disposed. Captain Drake himself now advanced, and entered into conversation with the leader of the natives, in Spanish. It seemed that they had met before, and that many, indeed, of the natives were acquainted with his person. These were a party of Simeroons, as they were then called; i.e., of natives who had been made slaves by the Spaniards, and who had now fled. They afterwards came to be called Cameroons, and are mostly so spoken of in the books of English buccaneers. These men were greatly pleased at the arrival of Captain Drake and his boats, for their own had been destroyed, and they feared taking to the sea in such as they could build.
After much talk, Captain Drake arranged to put them on shore, so that they would go on to the Isthmus of Darien, where there were more of them in the forests; and they promised to prepare these to assist Captain Drake, when he should come there. The natives, some thirty in number, were soon packed in the boats, and were ready to cross to the mainland; and the party then going forward, entered the port of Nombre de Dios at three in the morning.
As they sailed in, being yet a good way from the city, they came upon a barque of some 60 tons. It was all unprepared for attack, and the boats got alongside, and the crews climbed on to the deck before their presence was discovered, or dreamt of. No resistance whatever was offered by the Spaniards against the English. All were, indeed, asleep below.
A search was made, and it was found that the ship was laden with Canary wine, a circumstance which gave great pleasure to the English, who looked forward to a long bout of good drinking. While they were searching the ship, they had paid but little attention to the Spanish crew. Presently, however, they heard the sound of oars at some little distance from the ship.
"What is that?" said Captain Drake.
Ned ran to the stern of the vessel.
"I think, sir," he said, "that one or two of the Spaniards have got off, with their boat. I saw it towing to the stern, when we boarded."
Captain Drake leant over the side, and at once gave orders to one of the boats whose crew had not boarded the vessel, and was lying alongside, to pursue; and to strain every nerve to catch the boat, before she came near the town. The sailors leapt to the oars, and pulled with a will, for they knew as well as their captain how serious a matter it would be, were the town alarmed; and indeed, that all their toil and pains would be thrown away, as it was only by surprise that so small a handful of men could possibly expect to take a large and important town like Nombre de Dios.
Fortunately the boat overtook the fugitives before they were within hailing distance of the town, and rapidly towed them back to the ship. All then took their places in the pinnaces, and pushed off without further delay. It was not yet light, and steered by one who knew the town well, they rowed up alongside a battery, which defended it, without the alarm being given. As they climbed up over the wall the sentry fired his piece, and the artillerymen, who, there having been some rumors of the arrival of Drake's fleet in those waters, were sleeping by the side of their guns, sprang to their feet and fled, as the English leapt down into the battery. There were six large guns in the place, and many small, and bombards.
"Now, my lads," Captain Drake said, "you must lose no time. In five minutes, yonder artillerymen will have alarmed the whole town, and we must be there before the Spaniards have managed to get their sleepy eyes open.
"Advance in three parties, and meet in the marketplace. It is good that we should make as much show as possible. There can be no more concealment and, therefore, we must endeavor to make the Spaniards believe that we are a far stronger force than, in truth, we are."
It was not until the three parties met in the marketplace that any real resistance on the part of the Spaniards began, although windows had been opened, and shots fired here and there. The alarm bells were now ringing, shouts and screams were heard through the town, and the whole population was becoming fairly aroused. As they entered the marketplace, however, a heavy fire was opened with arquebuses and guns. The English had taken with them no firearms, but each man carried his bow and arrows, and with these they shot fast and hard at the Spaniards, and silenced their fire.
At this moment, however, it happened, sadly for the success of the enterprise, that a ball struck Captain Drake, and inflicted a serious wound. Ned was standing near him, and observed him stagger.
"Are you hit, sir?" he asked anxiously.
"Tush, my boy," he replied, "it is a scratch; say nothing of it.
"Now, forward to the Treasury. The town is in your hands, my lads. It only remains to you to sack as much treasure as you can carry; but remember, do not lose your discipline, and keep together. If we straggle, we are lost.
"Now, light at once the torches which you have brought with you, and shout aloud to the inhabitants, you that can speak Spanish, that if any more resistance is offered, we will burn the whole town to the ground."
This threat mightily alarmed the inhabitants, and the firing ceased altogether; for as these were not regular soldiers, and knew that the object of the English attack was to plunder the public treasuries, rather than private property, the townsmen readily deemed it to their interest to hold aloof, rather than to bring upon their city and themselves so grievous a calamity as that threatened by the English.
In the advance, two or three Spaniards had fallen into the hands of the men and, these being threatened with instant death if they hesitated, at once led the way to the governor's house, where the silver, brought down on mules from Panama, was stored. A party were placed at the door of this building, and Captain Drake, with the rest, entered.
The governor had fled, with his attendants. The house was richly furnished; full of silk hangings, of vessels of gold and silver, and of all kinds of beautiful things. These, however, attracted little attention from the English, although Ned and his young comrades marveled much. Never had they seen, in England, anything approaching to the wealth and beauty of this furnishing. It seemed to them, indeed, as if they had entered one of the houses of the magicians and enchanters, of whom they had read in books during their childhood.
Captain Drake, however, passed through these gorgeous rooms with scarce a glance and, led by the Spaniards, descended some steps into a vast cellar.
A cry of astonishment and admiration burst from the whole party, as they entered this treasury. Here, piled up twelve feet high, lay a mighty mass of bars of silver, carefully packed. This heap was no less than 70 feet long and 10 feet wide, and the bars each weighed from 35 to 40 pounds.
"My lads," Captain Drake said, "here is money enough to make us all rich for our lives; but we must leave it for the present, and make for the Treasury House, which is as full of gold and of precious stones as this is of silver."
The men followed Captain Drake and his brother, feeling quite astonished, and almost stupefied at the sight of this pile of silver; but they felt, moreover, the impossibility of their carrying off so vast a weight, unless the town were completely in their hands.
This, indeed, was very far from being the case, for the whole town was now rising. The troops, who had at the first panic fled, were now being brought forward; and as the day lightened, the Spaniards, sorely ashamed that so small a body of men should have made themselves masters of so great and rich a city, were plucking up heart and preparing to attack them.
Ill was it, then, for the success of the adventure, that Captain Francis had suffered so heavy a wound in the marketplace. Up to this time he had kept bravely on, and none except Ned, all being full of the prospect of vast plunder, had noticed his pale face, or seen the blood which streamed down from him, and marked every footstep as he went; but nature could now do no more and, with his body well nigh drained of all its blood, he suddenly fell down fainting.
Great was the cry that rose from the men, as they saw the admiral thus fall. Hastily gathering round him, they lifted his body from the ground, and shuddered at seeing how great a pool of blood was gathered where he had been standing. It seemed almost as if, with the fall of their captain, the courage which had animated these men, and would animate them again in fighting against ever so great odds, had for the moment deserted them.
In spite of the orders of Captain John, that four or five should carry his brother to the boats; and that the rest should seize, without delay, the treasures of gold and diamonds in the Treasury, and carry off as great a weight as they might bear, none paid attention. They gathered round the body of Captain Francis and, lifting him on their shoulders, they hurried to the boats, careless of the promised treasures, and thinking only to escape, and bear with them their beloved commander from the forces of the Spaniards; who, as they saw the party fall back, with great shouting fell upon them, shooting hotly.
The swoon of the admiral had lasted but a few moments. As cordial was poured down his throat he opened his eyes and, seeing what the men were minded to do, protested with all his force against their retreat. His words, however, had no weight with them and, in spite of his resistance, they carried him down to the battery; and there, placing him in a pinnace, the whole took to their boats, and rowed on board ship.
Wonderful to relate, although many were wounded, but one man, and he Giles Taunton the armorer, was killed in this attack upon the great city, in which they only missed making themselves masters of one of the greatest treasures upon earth by the accident of their commander fainting, at a critical moment, and to the men being seized by an unaccountable panic. Some of the crew had, indeed, carried off certain plunder, which they had snatched in passing through the governor's house, and in such short searches as they had been able to make in private dwellings; but the men, in general, had been so struck with amazement and sorrow at the sight of their general's wound, that although this wealth was virtually at their mercy, they put off with him without casting a thought upon what they were leaving behind.
The boats now rowed without pausing to the isle, which they called the Isle of Victuals; and there they stayed two days, nursing their wounds, and supporting themselves with poultry, of which there was a great abundance found in the island, and with vegetables and fruits from the gardens. There was great joy among them when it was found that Captain Drake's wound, although severe enough, was yet not likely to imperil his life; and that it was loss of blood, alone, which had caused him to faint. At this news the men all took heart, and rejoiced so exceedingly that a stranger would have supposed that they had attained some great victory, rather than have come out unsuccessful from an adventure which promised to make each man wealthy.
Upon the second day after their arrival at the Isle of Victuals, they saw a boat rowing out from the direction of Nombre de Dios. As they knew that there was no fleet in that harbor which would venture to attack them, the English had no fear of the approaching boat; although, indeed, they wondered much what message could have been sent them. On board the boat was an hidalgo, or Spanish noble, who was rowed by four negroes. He said that he had come from the mainland to make inquiries as to the gallant men who had performed so great a feat, and that he cherished no malice, whatever, against them. He wished to know whether the Captain Drake who commanded them was the same who had been there before, and especially did he inquire whether the arrows used by the English were poisoned; for, he said, great fear and alarm reigned in the town, many believing that all who had been struck by the English shafts would certainly die.
Upon this head he was soon reassured; and the English were, indeed, mightily indignant at its being supposed that they would use such cowardly weapons as poisoned arrows.
Then the hidalgo inquired why the English had so suddenly retreated from the town, when it was in their hands, and why they had abstained from carrying off the three hundred and sixty tons of silver which lay at the governor's house, and the still greater value of gold in the treasure house--the gold, indeed, being far more valuable than the silver, insomuch as it was more portable. The answers to all these questions were freely given, for in those days there was a curious mixture of peace and war, of desperate violence and of great courtesy, between combatants; and whereas, now, an enemy arriving with a view merely to obtain information would be roughly treated, in those days he was courteously entertained, and his questions as freely answered as if he had been a friend and ally.
When he heard of the wound of Captain Drake he expressed great sorrow; and, after many compliments were exchanged, he returned to Nombre de Dios; while, the next day, Captain Drake and the English rowed away to the Isle of Pines, where Captain Rause was remaining in charge of the ships. He was mightily glad to see them return, as were their comrades who had remained; for their long absence had caused great fear and anxiety, as it was thought that Captain Drake must have fallen into some ambuscade, and that ill had come to the party.
Although there was some regret at the thought that the chance of gaining such vast booty had been missed, yet the joy at the safe return overpowered this feeling; and, for a day or two, the crews feasted merrily and held festival. Captain Rause then determined to continue the adventure no further, but to separate with his ship and men from Captain Drake. He was of opinion, firmly, that now the Spaniards had discovered their presence in the island, such measures of defense would be taken, at every port, as to place these beyond the hazard of attack by so small a body as those carried by the three ships. He therefore, receiving full satisfaction for the use of his men and for guarding the ships, sailed away on the 7th August, leaving the Swanne and the Pacha to proceed upon the adventure, alone.
Captain Drake sent his brother and Ellis Hickson to examine the river Chagres; and on their return Captain Drake, with his two ships and three pinnaces, sailed for Carthagena, where he arrived on the 13th day of August. While on the voyage thither he captured two Spanish ships, each of 240 tons, with rich cargoes, neither of them striking so much as a blow in resistance.
At evening he anchored between the Island of Cara and Saint Bernardo, and the three pinnaces entered the harbor of Carthagena.
Lying at the entrance they found a frigate, which in those days meant a very small craft, not much larger than a rowing boat. She had but one old man on board, who said that the rest of the company had gone ashore, to fight a duel about a quarrel which they had had overnight. He said, too, what was much more important to the English--that, an hour before nightfall, a pinnace had passed him, and that the man who was steering had shouted out that the English were at hand, and that he had better up anchor and go into the port. He said, moreover, that when the pinnace reached Carthagena guns were fired, and he could see that all the shipping hauled in under shelter of the castle.
This was bad news indeed, and there was much hard language among the sailors, when they heard it. It was clear that the castle of Carthagena, if prepared, was not to be carried by some thirty or forty men, however gallant and determined they might be. There was, too, but little hope that the old man had spoken falsely, for they had themselves heard guns, shortly before their arrival there. With much bitterness, it was determined to abandon the plan of attack; and thus Carthagena, as well as Nombre de Dios, escaped from the hands of the English.
They did not, however, go out empty handed; for they succeeded in capturing, by boarding, four pinnaces, each laden with cargo; and as they turned their heads to go out to sea, a great ship of Seville came sailing in. Her they laid alongside and captured easily, she having just arrived from Spain, having no thoughts of meeting a foe, just as she reached her port of destination.
This lightened the hearts of the crew, and with their prizes in tow, they sailed out in good spirits. The ship contained large stores of goods from Spain, with sherries, and merchandise of every kind. They went back to the Isle of Pines, their usual rendezvous, and on adding up the goods that they had taken from various prizes, found that, even now, they had made no bad thing of their voyage.
They were now much reduced in fighting strength by illness, and Captain Drake determined in his mind that the crews were no longer strong enough for the manning of two ships, and that it would be better to take to one, alone. He knew, however, that even his authority would not suffice to persuade the sailors to abandon one of the vessels, for sailors have a great love for their ships. He therefore determined to do it by a sudden stroke, and that known only to himself and another. Therefore he called to him Thomas Moore, the carpenter of the Swanne; and, taking him aside, told him to make auger holes in the bottom of that ship. Moore, who was a good sailor, made a great resistance to the orders; but upon the admiral assuring him that it was necessary, for the success of the enterprise, that one of the ships should be destroyed, he very reluctantly undertook the task.
Previous to this Captain Drake had ordered all the booty, and a considerable portion of the stores of both ships, to be hauled on shore; so that they might lose nothing of value to them.
The next morning, Ned and his friends were sitting on the bulwark of the vessel, watching the fish playing about in the depths of the clear blue water.
"We seem to be lower in the water than usual," Ned said. "Does not it seem to you that we are not so high above the sea as we are wont to be?"
The others agreed that the vessel had that appearance; but as it seemed clearly impossible that it should be so, especially when she was lighter than usual, they thought that they must be mistaken, and the subject was put aside. Half an hour later Captain Drake himself, rowing alongside, called to his brother, who came to the side.
"I am going to fish," he said; "are you disposed to come, also?"
Captain John expressed his willingness to do so.
"I will wait for you," his brother said.
Captain John was turning to go into his cabin to get his cap and cloak, when Captain Francis cried out: "Is not your ship very low in the water this morning?"
"The same as usual, I suppose," Captain John said, laughing; but looking over the side himself, he said, "Methinks she does lie deep in the water;" and, calling the carpenter, he bade him sound the well.
The latter, after doing so, cried out loudly that there were four feet of water in the ship.
A great astonishment seized upon both officers and crew, at this unexpected news. All hands were at once set to work, the pumps were rigged and, with buckets and all sorts of gear, they strove manfully and hard to get rid of the water. It soon, however, became plain that it entered faster than they could pump it forth, and that the vessel must have sprung a bad leak.
When it was clear that the Swanne could not be saved, the boats of the Pacha were brought alongside, and all the goods that remained in her were removed, together with the arms and ammunition. Then the crew, taking to the boats, lay by, until in a few minutes the Swanne sank, among the tears of many of her crew, who had made three voyages in her, and loved her well.
It was not, for a long time afterwards, known that the loss of this ship was the effect of the orders of the admiral; who, indeed, acted with his usual wisdom in keeping the matter secret; for assuredly, although the men would have obeyed his orders, he would have lost much favor and popularity among them, had the truth been at that time known.
The next day the news was spread, among the men, that it was determined to fill the Pacha with all the stores that were on shore; and, leaving a party there with her, to embark the crews in the pinnaces, for service in the river Chagres and along the coast; until, at any rate, they could capture another ship to replace the Swanne. Next day they rowed on into the Gulf of Darien. There the ship was laid up in a good place, and they remained quiet for fifteen days, amusing and refreshing themselves. By this means they hoped to throw all the Spaniards off their guard, and to cause a report to be spread that they had left the island.
The Simeroons living near had been warned, by those who had been landed from the Isle of Pines, of their coming; and received them with good cheer, and promised all aid that could be required. Then the pinnaces were sent out, to catch any passing ships which might be cruising along the coast.
It happened, one day, that two of them had set off in pursuit of a great ship, which they saw passing in the distance. The wind was light, and they had little doubt that they should overhaul her. Ned, who was one of those who remained behind, was much angered at missing so good an enterprise; but some four hours afterwards another ship was seen to pass along.
The remaining pinnace was at once manned, Captain John Drake taking the command; and, with fourteen men, she set out to take the Spanish galleon. Gallant as are the exploits which have been performed in modern times by British tars, in their attacks upon slavers, yet in none of these cases does the disparity of force at all approach that which often existed between the English boats and the Spanish galleons; indeed, the only possible reason that can be given, for the success of the English, is the fear that their enemy entertained for them. Both the Spanish captains and crews had come to look upon them as utterly invincible, and they seemed, when attacked by the English buccaneers, altogether paralyzed.
As the boat rowed up towards the great ship, her size became gradually more apparent, and her deck could be seen crowded with men; even Ned, who was not greatly given to reflection, could not but feel a passing doubt as to the possibility of one small boat, with fourteen men, attacking a floating castle like this.
Presently the boom of a cannon from the forecastle of the vessel was heard, and a ball whizzed over their heads; then shot after shot was fired, and soon a rattle of small arms broke out, and the water all round was cut up by bullets and balls. The rough seamen cared little for this demonstration. With a cheer they bent their backs to the oars and, although some were wounded, they rowed up to the side of the ship without hesitation or doubt. Then from above a shower of missiles were hurled upon them--darts, stones, hot water, and even boiling tar.
It would have gone hard with the English, had not the Spanish carelessly left a porthole open near the water level; through this the English clambered, eager to get at their foe, and many of them raging with the pain caused by the boiling materials. As they rushed on to the deck, the Spaniards were ranged, in two ranks, on either side of the hatchway; and fell upon them at once; but so great was the fury of the English that, facing either way, with a roar like beasts springing on their prey, they fell with axe and sword upon the Spaniards.
It was the wild rage with which the English buccaneers fought that was the secret of their success. The Spaniards are a people given to ceremony, and even in matters of battle are somewhat formal and pedantic. The combat, then, between them and the English, was one which presented no familiar conditions to their minds. These rough sailors, hardened by exposure, skilled in the use of arms, were no doubt formidable enough, individually; but this alone would not have intimidated the Spaniards, or have gone any great distance towards equalizing the tremendous odds between them.
It was the fury with which they fought that was the secret of their success. It was as when a cat, furious with passion, flies at a dog many times larger and heavier than itself. The latter may be as brave, in many matters, as the cat; and ready to face a creature much larger even than itself, under ordinary circumstances. It is the fury of the cat which appalls, and turns it into a very coward.
Thus, when the band of English fell upon the Spaniards in the galleon--who were some six times as numerous as themselves--naked to the waist, with hair streaming back, with all their faces wild with pain, brandishing their heavy axes, and with a shout rushed upon their foes drawn up in regular order; the latter, after a moment or two of resistance, began rapidly to fall back. Their officers, in vain, shouted to them to stand firm. In vain they taunted them with falling back before a handful of men. In vain even turned their swords against their own soldiers.
It was useless. Those in front, unable indeed to retreat, were cut down by the heavy axes. Those behind recoiled, and after but a few minutes' fighting, some began to leap down the hatchways; and although the fight continued for a short time, isolated groups here and there making resistance, the battle was virtually won in five minutes after the English appeared on deck. The captain and his two principal officers were killed, fighting bravely; and had their efforts been in any way backed by those of their men, they would have made short work of the assailants.
Captain Drake's voice was heard, high above the din, as soon as the resistance ceased. He ordered the prisoners to be all brought upon deck, and disarmed, and at once forced into their own boats, and obliged to row away from the vessel; for he knew that, were his men once to begin to plunder, and to fall upon the liquors, the Spaniards, even if unarmed, would be able to rise and overpower them.
No sooner was the last Spaniard out of the ship, than the men scattered to look for plunder. Ned was standing on the poop, watching the boats rowing away, and thinking to himself that, so crowded were they, if a breeze were to spring up there would not be much chance of their reaching Nombre de Dios. Suddenly he heard below him a scream, followed by a splash; looking over, he saw the head of a woman appear above the water, and without hesitation dived at once from the side. For a moment the girl, for she was little more, struggled with him as if she would have sunk; but Ned, grasping her firmly, in a few strokes swam with her alongside the ship to the boat; and two or three sailors, running down, assisted him to pull her into it. Then, dripping wet, she was taken to the deck, where the captain, in kind tones, assured her that she would receive the most courteous treatment, and that she need be under no fear, whatever.
She was the daughter of a wealthy Spaniard, at Nombre de Dios, and was now coming out from Spain to join him. Frightened by the noise of the fighting, and by the terrible reputation of the English buccaneers, she had, when the sailors rushed into the cabin with loud shouts, been so alarmed that she had jumped from the stern windows into the sea.
Captain Drake assured her courteously that, rough as his men might be, they would, none of them, lay a finger upon a woman. He then hoisted a flag and fired a gun, as a signal to the Spanish boats, which were yet within a quarter of a mile, to return. For a moment they rowed on, but a ball, sent skimming across their bows, was a hint which they could not disregard; for, full as they were of men, they could not have hoped to avoid the English pinnace, should it have put off after them.
When the boats came alongside, some of those on board were ordered to ascend the side of the ship; and, plenty of accommodation having been made, the young Spanish lady and her maid, who had remained in the cabin, descended into the largest boat; handed down by Captain Drake, with a courtesy equal to that which a Spanish hidalgo himself would have shown.
Before she went, the young lady turned to Ned, who was standing near, and expressed to him her deep thanks for the manner in which he had leapt over for her. Ned himself could understand only a few words, for although many of the sailors spoke Spanish, and sometimes used it among themselves, he had not yet made any great progress with it, although he had tried to pick up as many words and phrases as he could. The captain, however, translated the words to him; and he said to her, in reply, that there was nothing for her to feel herself under any obligation to him for, for that any dog would have jumped out and done the business, just as well.
The young lady, however, undid a bracelet of gold on her arm, and insisted upon herself fastening it round Ned's wrist, an action which caused blushes of confusion to crimson his face.
In a few minutes the Spanish boats were again off. The captain added, to that in which the young lady was placed, some food, some bottles of liqueur, and other matters which might render her voyage easy and pleasant. He promised that the Spaniards who had been transferred again to the ship should be landed, at the earliest opportunity.
The vessel was now searched, regularly, and was found to contain much treasure in goods; but as she was on her way from Europe, she had, of course, none of the gold and silver which was the main object of their search. However, they consoled themselves with the thought that the ship which had been chased by their comrades, earlier in the day, was homewards bound; and they hoped, therefore, that a rich cargo would there be secured.
They were not mistaken, for when the ship sailed up to the rendezvous they found another alongside, and the cheers of their comrades told them that the prize had been a handsome one. They found that they had secured nearly half a million in gold and silver; and, transferring the cargo of the one ship into the other, they set the first on fire, and sailed back to the spot where their camp was formed, on the isthmus.
Several other ships fell into their hands in this way, but after this they hindered no more vessels on their way from Europe. They had ample stores and, indeed, far more than enough to supply them with every luxury; for on board the Pacha the richest wines, the most delicate conserves, the richest garments of all kinds were already in such abundance as to become common to them all. Down to the common sailor, all feasted on the best, and drank wines that an emperor might have approved. Captain Drake, in this way, gave his men when on shore much license; insisting, however, that they should abstain from drunkenness. For, as he said, not only would they be at the mercy of any small body of the enemy which might find them, but drunkenness breeds quarrels and disputes, and as between comrades would be fatal, indeed. Thus, although enough of good liquor was given to each man to make him merry, none were allowed to drink beyond this point.
The reason why the ships coming from Europe were allowed to pass, unmolested, was that Drake wished not that, each day, some fresh tale of capture should be brought to Panama by the crews set free in the boats; for it was certain that the tale so told would, at last, stir up such fear and indignation at the ravages committed by so small a body, that the governors of the Spanish towns would combine their forces, and would march against them with a veritable army. While only the ships starting from Darien were overhauled, and lightened of their contents, the tale was not brought back to Darien; for the crews were allowed to sail on with their ships to Europe, as Drake had already more vessels than he knew what to do with; and as for prisoners, they were, to him, quite useless.
Captain John did, indeed, at one time propose to him that he should take out of each ship all the principal men, so as to hold them as hostages, in case of any misfortune happening to the English; but the admiral said to him, that so great was the enmity and fear of them, that did they fall into the hands of the Spaniards, these would not exchange them and let them go, even if as many kings were set free in return.
In all, five vessels were seized and plundered while lying at Darien. All was not, however, going well; for while they lay there, a terrible sickness broke out among them. Whether this was from the change of life, or from any noxious thing which they ate, or merely from the heat, none could say; but, very shortly, the illness made great ravages among them. First died Charles Clift, one of the quartermasters.
Then one day, when the pinnace in which Ned always sailed returned, they were met with the sad news that Captain John Drake was also dead. He had fallen, however, not by the fever, but by the ball of the Spaniards. He had gone out with one of the pinnaces, and had engaged a great Spanish ship; but the latter had shot more straight and faster than usual, and the captain himself and Richard Allen, one of his men, had been slain in an unsuccessful attempt to capture the ship. His sad end was not the result of any rashness on his part; for he, indeed, had told the men that the vessel carried many guns, and that it was too rash an enterprise. The sailors, however, had by this time become so accustomed to victory as to despise the Dons altogether, and insisted upon going forward.
It was with bitter lamentation and regret that they returned, bringing the body of the admiral's brother. They were now at the end of the year, and in this week no less than six of the company died, among whom was Joseph Drake, another of the admiral's brothers. These losses saddened the crew greatly, and even the treasures which they had amassed now seemed to them small, and of little account. Even those who did not take the fever were much cast down, and Captain Drake determined, without any further loss, to attempt the expedition on which he had set his mind.
On February 3rd, being Shrove Tuesday, he started with eighteen English and thirteen Simeroons for Panama. He had now, since he sailed, lost no less than twenty-eight of the party which set out from Plymouth.
In a few days they reached Venta Cruz, but one of the men, who had taken too much strong liquor, made a noise; and the alarm being given, much of the treasure was carried out of the place, before they could effect a landing. They followed, however, one of the treasure parties out of the town, and pursued them for some distance. On their way they came across another large convoy, with gold. This they easily took and, having sent the Spaniards away, unloaded the mules and buried the gold, desiring to press on further.
As they went, one of the chief Simeroons took the admiral apart from the road they were traversing, and led him to the foot of a lofty tree. Upon this steps had been cut, and the Indian told the admiral to ascend, and see what he could observe from the top. Upon reaching the summit, the admiral gave a shout of joy and astonishment. From that point he could see the Pacific Ocean, and by turning his head the Atlantic, which they had just left.
This was a joyful moment for the great sailor, and when he descended, one by one most of the men climbed to the top of the tree, to see the two oceans.
Drake was the first Englishman who had seen this sight. To the Spaniards it was, of course, familiar; indeed, Vasco Nunez had stood upon the spot and had seen the Pacific, and taken possession of it, in the name of Spain, in the year 1513.
They now retraced their steps; for, with the force at their disposal, Captain Drake thought it would be madness to cross the isthmus, with any view of attacking the Spaniards on the other side. He had now accomplished his purpose, and had learned the nature and geography of the place; and proposed, on some future occasion, to return with a force sufficient to carry out the great enterprises on which he had set his mind.
On their return, they were sorely disappointed at finding that the Spaniards, having captured one of the party, had extorted from him the hiding place of the gold, and had lifted and carried it off. They now prepared to re-embark in their pinnace. Reaching the seashore, however, they were surprised, and in some way dismayed, at seeing seven Spanish vessels nearing the coast. The Spaniards had at last determined to make an effort, and had arrived at a time more unfortunate for the English than could have been supposed. The pinnace, after landing the party, had sailed away, in order to prevent the Spaniards seizing upon those on board; and when Captain Drake reached the shore she was not in sight, having indeed hauled her wind, and made off, on the approach of the Spanish fleet.
The situation seemed bad, indeed, for it was certain that the Spaniards would land their troops and search the shore; and it was of the highest importance that the pinnace should be discovered first.
There was a counsel held, and the men were well-nigh despairing. Captain Drake, however, bade them keep up their courage, and pointed out to them the four lads, all of whom had escaped the effect of fever and disease, their constitution, no doubt, being strengthened by the fact that none of them indulged in too much liquor; indeed, seldom touching any.
"Look," said Captain Drake, "at these four lads. Their courage is unshaken, and they look cheerful and hopeful on all occasions. Take example from them, and keep up your hopes. I propose to make a raft upon which I myself will embark, and by making out from this bay into the open sea, may succeed in catching sight of the pinnace, and bringing it hither to your rescue."
The proposal seemed a desperate one, for it was far more likely that the Spaniards' ships would come along, and descry the raft, than that the latter should meet with the pinnace. However, there seemed no other resource. The materials for the raft were scanty and weak; and when Captain Francis, with three companions, got fairly out of the bay, the raft sank so deeply in the water that they were completely standing in the sea.
For some hours they beat about; and then, to their great joy, they descried the pinnace in the distance, making for land. The wind had now risen, and it was blowing hard, and their position on the raft was dangerous enough. They found that it would be impossible for them to keep at sea, and still more impossible to place themselves in the track of the pinnaces, which were making for a bay behind a projecting headland.
Painfully paddling the raft to the shore, Captain Francis landed; and they made their way, with much toil and fatigue, over the hill which divided them from that bay; and, towards morning, got down to the pinnace, where they were received with much joy. Then they at once launched the boat, and made for the spot where they had left their comrades. These received them as if risen from the dead, for they had all made up their minds that their admiral, and his companions, had been lost upon the frail raft on which they had embarked.
They now put to sea, and had the good fortune to escape the ken of the Spaniards, who had sailed further up the coast. So, thanking God for their escape, they sailed back to the bay where the Pacha and her prizes lay, and then all hands began to make great preparation for return home.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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5
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: Cast Ashore.
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It was time, indeed, for the little band of adventurers to be turning their faces towards England. Their original strength, of eighty men, was reduced to fifty; and of these, many were sick and weak. They had gained a vast store of wealth, although they had missed the plunder of Nombre de Dios and of Carthagena. Their doings had caused such consternation and alarm that it was certain that the Spaniards would, ere long, make a great and united effort to crush them; and fifty men, however valiant, could not battle with a fleet. The men were longing for home, looking forward to the delight of spending the great share of prize money which would fall to each. The sudden death which had stricken many of their comrades had, too, cast a chill on the expedition, and made all long more eagerly to be away from those beautiful, but deadly, shores.
When, therefore, on the day after the return of Captain Francis, the word was given to prepare for the homeward voyage, the most lively joy prevailed. The stores were embarked; the Simeroons, who had done them good service, dismissed with rich presents; and all embarked, with much joy and thankfulness that their labors and dangers were overpast.
They were, however, extremely shorthanded, and were scattered among the three or four prizes which were the best among the ships which they had taken. Ned and Gerald, being now able to give good assistance, in case of need, to the sailors, were put on board one of the prizes with four seamen. Captain Drake had determined to keep, for a time, the prizes with him; for as it might well be that they should meet, upon their way, a great Spanish fleet, he thought that by keeping together, with the flag of Saint George flying on all the ships, the Spaniards would believe that the Pacha had been joined by ships from England, and so would assuredly let her and her consorts pass at large. At the last land at which they touched Captain Drake intended to dismiss all but one of the prizes, and to sail across the Atlantic with her and the Pacha.
This, however, was not to be.
One day, shortly after their departure, Ned said to Gerald: "I do not like the look of the sky. It reminds me of the sky that we had before that terrible hurricane, when we were moored off the Isle of Pines; and with our scanty crew we should be in a mightily unfavorable position, should the wind come on to blow."
In that wise the sailors shared Ned's apprehensions, and in the speediest possible time all sail was lowered, and the ship prepared to meet the gale. It was not long before the whole sky was covered with black clouds. Captain Drake signaled to the vessels that each was to do its best; and, if separated, was to rendezvous at the spot before agreed upon. Then, all having been done that could be thought of, they waited the bursting of the storm.
It came at last, with the suddenness and almost the force of an explosion. A faint rumbling noise was first heard, a white line of foam was seen in the distance; and then, with a roar and a crash, the hurricane was upon them. The vessel reeled over so far under the blow that, for a time, all on board thought that she would capsize. The two sailors at the helm, however, held on sturdily; and at last her head drifted off on the wind, and she flew along before its force.
The sea rose as if by magic. Where, for weeks, scarcely a ripple had ruffled the surface of the water; now great waves, with crested tops, tore along. The air was full of blinding foam, swept from the tops of the waves; and it was difficult for those on board even to breathe, when facing the force of the wind.
"This is tremendous," Ned shouted in Gerald's ears, "and as there seem to be islands all over these seas, if we go on at the rate we are doing now, methinks that it will not be long before we land on one or another. We are, as I reckon, near Hispaniola, but there is no saying which way we may drift; for these storms are almost always changeable, and while we are running south at present, an hour hence we may be going in the opposite direction."
For twenty-four hours the storm continued, with unabated fury. At times it seemed impossible that the vessel could live, so tremendous were the seas which struck and buffeted her. However, being light in the water, and buoyant, she floated over it. During the next night the wind sensibly abated, and although still blowing with tremendous force, there was evidence, to the accustomed eyes of the sailors, that the storm was well-nigh blowing itself out. The sea, too, sensibly went down, although still tremendous; and all began to hope that they would weather the gale, when one of the sailors, who had crawled forward to the bow, shouted: "Breakers ahead!"
It was now, fortunately, morning; although the darkness had been so intense, since the storm began, that the difference between night and day was faint, indeed. Still it was better, if danger were to be met with, that there should be as much light as possible.
All hands looked out over the bows and saw, before them, a steep coast rising both to the right and left.
"It is all over with the ship," Gerald said to Ned, "and I do not think that there is a chance, even for you. The surf on those rocks is terrible."
"We must do our best," said Ned, "and trust in God. You keep close to me, Gerald, and when you want aid I will assist you as far as I can. You swim fairly, but scarce well enough, unaided, to get through that surf yonder."
The men, seeing that what appeared to be certain destruction stared them in the face, now shook hands all round; and then, commending their souls to God, sat down and waited for the shock.
When it came, it was tremendous. The masts snapped at the board, like rotten sticks. The vessel shivered from stem to stern and, drawing back for an instant, was again cast down with terrible force; and, as if struck by lightning, parted amidships, and then seemed to fall all to pieces, like a house of cards.
Ned and Gerald were standing, hand in hand, when the vessel struck; and as she went to pieces, and they were precipitated into the water, Ned still kept close to his friend, swimming side by side with him. They soon neared the edge of the line where the waves broke upon the rocks. Then Ned shouted to Gerald to coast along, outside the broken water; for that there was no landing there, with life. For upwards of an hour they swam on, outside the line of surf. The sea, although tremendously high, did not break till it touched a certain point, and the lads rose and fell over the great billows. They had stripped off the greater portion of their clothing, before the ship struck; and in the warm water had no sensation of chill, and had nothing to fight against, but fatigue.
When they were in the hollow of the waves their position was easy enough, and they could make each other hear, by shouting loudly. When, however, they were on the crest of one of the mountainous waves, it was a hard struggle for life. The wind blew with such fury, taking the top of the water off in sheets, and scattering it in fine spray, that the boys were nearly drowned; although they kept their back to the wind, and held their breath as if diving, except when necessary to make a gasp for air.
Gerald became weak and tired, at the end of the hour; but Ned kept up his courage, and aided him by swimming by his side, and letting Gerald put his hand upon his shoulder, every time that they were in the hollows of the waves, so that he got a complete rest at these periods.
At last, Ned thought he saw a passage between two of the big rocks, through which it might be possible, he thought, that they might swim, and so avoid the certain death which seemed to await them at every other spot.
The passage was about 40 feet wide, and it was no easy matter to calculate upon striking this, in so wild a sea. Side by side with Gerald, Ned made for the spot, and at last swam to the edge of the surf. Then a great wave came rolling in, and the boys, dizzy and confused, half smothered and choking, were hurled with tremendous force, through the great rocks, into comparatively calm water beyond. Ned now seized Gerald's hair, for his friend was nearly gone; and, turning aside from the direct line of the entrance, found himself speedily in calm water, behind the line of rocks. A few minutes' further struggle and the two boys lay on the beach, well-nigh insensible after their great exertions.
After a while they recovered their strength and, with staggering feet, made their way further inland.
"I owe you my life, Ned," Gerald said. "I never could have struggled ashore; nor, indeed, kept myself up for half that time, had it not been for your aid."
"I am glad to have been able to help you," Ned said simply. "We may thank heaven that the storm had abated a little, in its force, before the vessel struck; for had it been blowing as it was yesterday, we could not have swum five minutes. It was just the lowering of the wind that enabled us to swim without being drowned by the spray. It was bad enough, as it was, on the top of the waves; but, yesterday, it would have been impossible."
One of the first thoughts of the boys, upon fairly recovering themselves, was to kneel down and thank God for having preserved their lives; and then, having rested for upwards of an hour, to recover themselves, they made their way inland.
"Our dangers are by no means over, Gerald," Ned said. "If this island is, as I believe, a thickly cultivated one, and in the hands of the Spaniards, it will go hard with us, if they find us, after all the damage to their commerce which we have been inflicting, for the last year."
Upon getting to some rising ground, they saw, to their surprise, a large town lying on a bay in front of them. Instinctively they paused at the sight, and both sat down, so as to be out of view of any casual lookers on.
"What are we to do, Ned?" Gerald said. "If we stay here, we shall be starved. If we go into the town, we shall have our throats cut. Which think you is the best?"
"I do not like either alternative," Ned said. "See, inland there are many high mountains, and even close to the town there appear to be thickets and woods. There are houses, here and there, and no doubt plantations. It seems to me that if we get round to that side we may conceal ourselves; and it is hard, in a country like this, if we cannot, at any rate, find fruit enough to keep us for some time. And we had better wait till dark. Our white shoulders will be seen at too far a distance, by this light."
Creeping into a thicket, the lads lay down and were soon sound asleep; and it was night before they awoke, and looked out. All signs of the storm had passed. The moon was shining calmly, the stars were brilliant, and seemed to hang like lamps in the sky, an effect which is only seen in tropical climes.
There were lights in the town, and these served as a sort of guide to them. Skirting along at the top of the basin in which the town lay, they passed through cultivated estates, picking some ears of maize; thus satisfying their hunger, which was, when they started, ravenous; for, during the storm, they had been unable to open the hatchways, and had been supported only by a little biscuit, which happened to be in the caboose on deck.
Towards morning they chose a spot in a thick plantation of trees, about a mile and a half from the town; and here they agreed to wait, for a while, until they could come to some decision as to their course.
Three days passed without any change. Each night they stole out and picked maize, pineapple, and melons in the plantations for their subsistence; and as morning returned, went back to their hiding place. Close to it a road ran along to a noble house, which stood in some grounds at about a quarter of a mile from their grove. Every morning they saw the owner of this house, apparently a man of distinction, riding towards the town; and they concluded that he was one of the great merchants of the place.
One day he came accompanied by a young lady, carried in a litter by four slaves. The boys, who were weary of their solitude, pressed to the edge of the thicket to obtain a clear view of this little procession, which broke the monotony of their day.
"Gerald," Ned exclaimed, grasping him by the arm, "do you know, I believe that the lady is the girl I picked out of the water, the day we took that ship three months ago."
"Do you think so?" Gerald said. "It is too far, surely, to see."
"I do not know for certain," Ned answered, "but methinks that I cannot be mistaken."
"Perhaps she would help us, or intercede for us," Gerald suggested.
"Perhaps so," Ned said. "At any rate, we will try. Tonight we will make a move into the gardens of the house she came from, and will hide there till we see her alone in the garden. Then I will sally forth, and see how she takes it."
Accordingly, that night, after obtaining their supply of fruit, the boys entered the enclosure When morning broke there was speedily a stir, negroes and negresses went out to the fields, servants moved hither and thither in the veranda outside the house, gardeners came out and set to work at their vocations.
It was evident that the owner or his family was fond of gardening, for everything was kept with beautiful order and regularity. Mixed with the cactus, and other gaudy-flowering plants of Mexico and South America, were many European plants, brought out and acclimatized. Here fountains threw up dancing waters in the air, cool shady paths and bowers afforded protection from the heat of the day; and so carefully was it clipped, and kept, that a fallen leaf would have destroyed its perfection.
The point which the boys had chosen was remote from the house, for it was of importance that there should be no witnesses of the meeting. Here, in a spacious arbor, were chairs, couches, and other signs that some of the family were in the habit of taking their seats there; and although the boys knew that it might be days before they succeeded in carrying out their object, yet they determined to wait, and watch patiently, however long it might be.
Their success, however, surpassed their expectations; for it was but an hour or two after they had taken up their post, and soon after the sun had risen, that they saw, walking along the path, the young lady whom they so desired to meet. She was not alone, for a black girl walked a little behind her, chatting constantly to her, and carrying some books, a shawl, and various other articles. When they reached the arbor the attendant placed the things there, and then, as she took her seat, the young lady said to the girl: "Go in and fetch me my coffee here. Say I shall not come in until breakfast time, and that if any orders are required, they must come here for them."
"Will you want me to read to you?"
"No," the young lady said. "It is not hot. I shall take a turn round the garden, first, and then read to myself."
The black girl went off at a trot towards the house, and the young lady strolled round and round that portion of the garden, until her black attendant returned, with a tray containing coffee, lemonade, and fruits. This she placed on the table, and then in answer to the "You need not wait," of the lady, again retired.
Now was the time for the boys, who had watched these operations with keen interest, and anxiety. It was uncertain whether she would keep the black attendant by her side, and all depended upon that.
As soon as she was alone, Ned advanced from their hiding place. The boys had agreed that it was better, at first, that he should approach alone; lest the sudden appearance of the two, especially as Gerald was nearly as tall as a man, might have caused alarm; and she might have flown away, before she had identified Ned as the lad who had jumped into the water to save her.
Ned approached the arbor with hesitating steps, and felt that his appearance was, indeed, sorely against him. He had no covering to his head, had nothing on, indeed, but a pair of trousers. He was shoeless and stockingless, and presented the appearance of a beggar boy, rather than the smart young sailor whom she had seen on board the ship.
The lady started up, with a short exclamation, on seeing a white, ragged boy standing before her.
"Who are you?" she exclaimed, "and by what right do you enter these gardens? A white boy, and in rags, how comes this?"
"Our ship has been wrecked," Ned said, using his best Spanish. "Do you not remember me? I am the boy who picked you up when you fell overboard, on the day when the English captured the ship you came out in, some four months ago."
"Are you, indeed?" the young lady said, in surprise. "Yes, and now that I look close at you, I recognize your face. Poor boy, how have you got into a strait like this?"
Ned understood but little of what she said, as he only knew a few words in Spanish. It was with difficulty that he could understand it, even when spoken slowly; while, spoken as a native would do, he scarce gathered a word. He saw, however, from her attitude, that her meaning was kind, and that she was disposed to do what she could for him.
He therefore, in his broken Spanish, told her how a ship, on which he and five of his comrades were embarked, had been driven ashore in the hurricane; and all lost, with the exception of another boy, and himself.
"It is lucky, indeed," the girl said to herself, when he had finished, "that I found that my father had left Nombre de Dios, and had come down to his house here; for, assuredly, the people would have made short work of these poor lads, had I not been here to aid them. But, after all, what can I do? My father would, I know, do anything for my sake; and I have told him how this lad jumped overboard, to save my life; but there is one here greater than he, that terrible Inquisition. These boys are heretics, and it will be impossible to conceal, for any time, from the priests that they are here. Still, at any rate, for a time we might hide them; and in gratitude only, I would do all in my power for them."
Ned watched her face, as these thoughts passed through her mind. He saw at once that she was willing to do all in her power, but saw also that there were difficulties in the way.
"Poor boy," she said, looking at him kindly; "you must be hungry, indeed," and, taking an ivory mallet, she struck a gong which hung in the arbor, and made signs to Ned to retire for the present.
The little black girl came running out.
"I have changed my mind," her mistress said. "Let my breakfast be sent out here to me, instead of indoors. And I am hungry. Tell the cook to be sure and let it be a good one, and as soon as possible."
Much surprised by these orders, the black girl again left her.
"My father has gone to town," she said to the boys, when they joined her. "When he comes back, I will ask him what can be done. It will not be easy to hide you, for these negroes chatter like so many parrots; and the news will spread all over the town that some English boys are here, and in that case they will take you away, and my father would be powerless as I to help you."
The black cook was, indeed, astonished at the demolition of the breakfast effected by her young mistress; but she put it down to the fact that she must have given a large portion of it to her dogs, of which one or more were generally her companions, in the garden.
Fortunately, on the present occasion, the great bloodhound Zeres had gone down into the town with his master. Of this, however, the cook knew nothing; and muttered to herself somewhat angrily, as she saw the empty dishes which were brought back to her, "that it was a sin to give, to that creature, a meal which was sufficient for five noblemen."
When Senor Sagasta returned to his beautiful villa, in the afternoon, his daughter at once confided to him what had happened. He entered warmly into her scheme for the aid and protection of the lads, and expressed himself willing to do anything that she could suggest.
"But," he said, "you know as well as I do that, if the news gets about that two boys of Captain Drake's band are here, nothing will save them from the rage of the population; and indeed, if the people and the military authorities were disposed to let them alone, the Inquisition would be too strong for them, and would claim its own; and against the Inquisition even governors are powerless. Therefore if they are to stop, and stop they must, at least for a time, it must be done in perfect secrecy.
"There is no possibility of disguising two English boys to look like negroes. The only plan I can suggest is that they should have that gardeners' hut. I can remove the man who lives there at present, and will send him up the country to look after my place there. Then you must take old David into our confidence. He and his wife Floey are perfectly faithful, and can be trusted to the death. It is lucky that she is cook, for she will be able to prepare food for them. The hut must be kept, of course, locked up at all times; but as it is close to the fence, and the window indeed looks into the garden, you can go there of a day and speak to them, and take them books, and lighten their captivity.
"When it gets dark I will go with you down the garden, and will see these brave lads. In the meantime, old David shall get some shirts, and shoes, and other necessaries for them. We have a plentiful store of things in the magazine, and he can rig them up there, perfectly. I will at once get the gardener out of the house, and will give David instructions to carry the things there, as soon as it is empty."
That evening after it was dark the boys, who had been anxiously listening for every movement, saw in the dim light the white figure of the girl advancing, with her father beside her. When she came to the arbor, she raised her voice.
"Are you here?" she cried. "You can come out without fear."
And, as they advanced, "My father will do all in his power to protect the savior of his daughter."
The merchant shook the hands of the boys, with the stately ceremony of the Spaniard, and assured them that he was their servant, indeed, for their treatment of his daughter; and that his house, and all that it contained, was at their disposal. Ned and Gerald understood little enough of what he was saying, but his manner and gestures were sufficient, and they thanked him heartily for his kindness.
He now led the way, along many winding paths, till they reached a low fence forming the border of the garden, and distant a long way from the house. A light was already burning in it, and a black servant was at work within. There was a break in the fence, by which they passed through without difficulty; and on entering the hut, they found everything prepared for them.
On a table stood a dainty supper. The rooms were swept, and fresh furniture had been placed in them. In these countries furniture is of the slightest kind. A hammock, to swing in by day or sleep in by night; a couple of cane chairs; and a mat, of beautifully woven straw, for the floor. This is nearly all the furniture which is required, in the tropics.
First the negro beckoned the boys into an inner room, and there, to their intense delight, they saw a large tub full of water, and two piles of clothes lying beside it.
Don Sagasta and his daughter, after a few more words, left them; assuring them that they would be safe from observation there, but that they must not stir out, during the day; and must keep the door securely fastened, and must give no answer to anyone who might come and knock, or call, unless to themselves, to the black who was now with them, or his wife, who would accompany him, perhaps, the next evening. Donna Anna herself promised that she would come and see them the next morning, and that she hoped to find that they were comfortable.
When left alone, the boys luxuriated in the bath; and then, having put on fresh suits, they felt clean and comfortable once again. The clothes were those used by the upper class of slaves, employed as overseers. Don Sagasta had determined to get them some clothes of a superior class; but he felt that it was better that, so long as they were in hiding, they should be dressed in a costume which would, should anyone perchance get a distant look at them, excite no curiosity or surprise.
The boys ate a hearty supper; and then, throwing themselves into the swinging hammocks, were soon fast asleep. They were up with dawn, next morning, tidied up their room, and made all ready for the visit of Donna Anna.
She soon appeared, having got rid of her little black maid, as upon the morning before. She brought them a store of books, and among them a Spanish dictionary and grammar. She told them that she thought it would be of assistance, to pass away their time; and be of the greatest use, for them to learn to speak as much Spanish as possible; and that she was willing, when she could spare time, unobserved, to teach them the language. Very gratefully the boys accepted her offer; and, day by day for the next month, the young lady came every morning, and for an hour taught them the meaning and pronunciation of the words, which during the day they learnt by heart.
They found that the island upon which they had been cast ashore was Porto Rico, an island of considerable size, not far from Hispaniola.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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6
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: In the Woods.
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In the evening Senor Sagasta visited the lads, and had long conversations with them. He promised them that, upon the very first opportunity which should occur, he would aid them to escape; but pointed out that, at present, there was no possibility of their getting away.
"Captain Drake," he said, "has left the seas and, until he comes back again, or some other of your English filibusters, I see no chance of your escape. As soon as I hear of an English ship in these waters I will have a small boat, well fitted up with sails and all necessaries, conveyed to a creek on the coast. To this you shall be taken down, and make your way to the point where we hear that the vessel is accustomed to rendezvous."
This appeared to the boys to be the only possible plan, and they warmly expressed their gratitude to their host for his thoughtful kindness.
Another month passed; and then, one evening, Don Sagasta came to the hut with a certain anxiety in his face.
"Is there anything the matter?" Ned, who now began to speak Spanish with some fluency, asked.
"I am much disturbed. Since you have been here, I am sure that no one has got a sight of you; and I can rely so implicitly upon David, and Flora, that I am sure the secret has not leaked out there. But from what I hear, it seems that you must have been seen, during the time that you were wrecked, and before you came here. I hear in the town today that a rumor is current, among the people, that two white men were seen, near the sea, upon the day after the great storm. Someone else, too, seems to have said that he caught sight of two white men, not far from this house, just before daybreak, two days afterwards. This report has, it seems, been going from mouth to mouth; and has at last reached the ears of the governor. The portions of a wreck, which were driven ashore, seem to confirm the story; and unfortunately, the board with the name of the ship was washed ashore, and it is known to be that of one of those captured by Captain Drake. Putting the two things together, it is supposed that misfortune overtook a portion of his fleet, and that two of his men managed to save their lives, and are now lurking somewhere about the neighborhood I hear that the governor has ordered a strict search to be set on foot, and that a large reward is to be offered for the discovery of any signs of the fugitives."
The next day, the boys heard that the persons to whom the story had been traced had been taken before the governor, and strictly examined, and that he was fully convinced of the truth of the story. Three days afterwards, Don Sagasta brought them a copy of a notice which had been placed in the marketplace, offering a reward of 1000 dollars for any news which would lead to the capture of the English pirates, and announcing the severest punishment upon any who should dare to conceal, or to assist them.
Gerald at once said that, rather than be a cause of anxiety to their kind host and his daughter, they would give themselves up. This offer was, however, indignantly refused by Don Sagasta.
"No, no," he said; "this must not be. I might take you into the house, but I fear that with so many servants, some of whom are as bigoted as any of us whites, you would be sure to be discovered; and they would either reveal in confession, or disclose to the authorities, the fact of your concealment. The only plan which promises to offer safety, that I can suggest, is that you shall take to the mountains. There are many runaways there, and although sometimes they are hunted down and slain; yet they have caverns, and other places of concealment, where you might remain for years. I will speak to David about it, at once."
David, on being questioned, said that there was an old native woman, living at a hut a little way off, who had the reputation of having the evil eye, and who was certainly acquainted with the doings of the runaways. If any slave wished to send a message, to one of his friends who had taken to the hills, the old woman would, for a present, always convey, or get it conveyed, to the man for whom it was intended. He thought that it would be absolutely necessary that some such means should be taken of introducing the boys to the runaways; otherwise, hunted as these were, they would either fly when they saw two whites approaching, or would surround and destroy them.
Don Sagasta at once accepted the suggestion, and David was dispatched to the old woman, with offers of a handsome present, if she would give a guide to the boys, to the mountains. David was instructed, especially, to tell her that they were English, and the natural enemies of the Spaniards; that they had done them much harm at sea; and that, if caught by the Spaniards, they would be killed.
He returned an hour later, with news that the old Indian woman had, at once upon hearing these facts, promised to get them passed up to the hiding places of the natives.
"You think," Don Sagasta said, "that there is no fear of her mentioning the fact that she has seen my friends, to any of the searchers?"
"Oh, no," David said. "She is as close as wax. Over and over again, when she has been suspected of assisting in the evasion of a slave, she has been beaten and put to torture; but nothing was ever extracted from her lips, and it is certain that she would die, rather than reveal a secret."
Donna Anna was much moved, when she said adieu to the lads. She regarded Ned as the preserver of her life; and both had, during the two months of daily intercourse, much endeared themselves to her. Don Sagasta brought to them a handsome pair of pistols, each, and a sword; and then, giving them a basket of provisions and a purse containing money, which he thought might be useful even among runaway slaves, he and his daughter bade adieu to them, with many expressions of kindness and gratitude, on both sides.
"Do not hesitate," Don Sagasta said, "to let me know if I can, at any time, do or send anything for you. Should it be possible, I will send a message to you, by the old woman, if any expedition on a grand scale is being got up against the runaways; and this may make your position more comfortable among them."
Under the guidance of David, they then started for the Indian woman's hut; while Flora set to work to carry away and obliterate all signs, from the hut, of its late residents. After a few minutes' walking, the boys arrived at the Indian hut. It was constructed simply, of boughs of trees thickly worked together.
On hearing their footsteps an old woman--the boys thought they had never seen anyone so old--with long white hair, and a face wrinkled till it hardly seemed like the face of a human being, came to the door, with a torch made of resinous wood held aloft. She peered under her hand at the boys, and said a few words to David, which he translated to the boys to be: "And these are English, the people of whom the Spaniards are as afraid as my people are of them? Two Spaniards can drive fifty Indians before them, but I hear that a dozen of these Englishmen can take a ship with a hundred Spaniards on board. It is wonderful. They look something like our oppressors, but they are fairer, and their eyes are blue; and they look honest, and have not that air of pride, and arrogance, which the Spaniard never lays aside.
"I have a boy here."
And as she spoke an Indian boy, of some thirteen years of age, slipped out from behind her.
"He will show them to the refuge places of the last of my race. There they will be well received, for I have sent by him a message to their chiefs; and it may be that these lads, knowing the ways of white warfare, will be able to assist my countrymen, and to enable them to resist these dogs of Spaniards.
"The blessing of an old woman be upon you. I have seen many changes. I have seen my people possessors of this island, save a small settlement which they had, even then, the folly to allow the Spaniards to possess. I have seen them swept away by the oppressor, my husband tortured and killed, my brothers burned alive, all that I loved slain by the Spaniards. Now, it does my old eyes good to see two of the race who will, in the future, drive those dogs from these fair lands, as they have driven my people."
So saying, she returned into the hut.
The boy prepared at once to start, and the lads, wringing the hand of the black who had been so kind to them, at once followed their guide into the darkness. For some hours they walked without intermission, sometimes going at a sling trot, and then easing down again. Dark as was the night, their guide trod the paths without hesitation or pause. The boys could scarce see the ground upon which they trod, but the eyes of the native were keener than theirs, and to him the way seemed as clear as in broad daylight.
After traversing for some miles a flat, level country, they began to mount; and for about two hours ascended a mountain, thickly covered with forest. Then the guide stopped, and motioned to them that he could now go no further, and must rest for the present.
The boys were surprised at this sudden stop, for their guide had gone along so quickly and easily that he taxed, to the utmost, their powers of progression; while he, himself, never breathed any harder than when walking upon the level ground. They had, however, no means of interrogating him, for he spoke no language which they understood.
Without a word, the lad threw himself down at full length, an example which they followed without hesitation.
"I wonder," Ned said, "why he stopped."
"Because he is tired, I expect," Gerald replied; "or that he does not know the exact spot upon which he is likely to meet the band; and that he has taken us, so far, along the one path which was certain to lead in the right direction, but for the precise spot he must wait, till morning."
It was not many minutes before the three lads were fast asleep, but with the first gleam of daylight the Indian boy awoke. Touching his companions, he sprang to his feet, and without hesitation turned off to the right, and climbed an even steeper path than any which they had followed in the darkness. The trees grew thinner as they advanced, and they were soon climbing over bare rock.
They saw now that they were near the extreme summit of one of the hills. The boy, as they passed through the trees, had gathered some dry sticks, and a handful or two of green leaves. Upon reaching the top he placed these down upon the ground, and looked towards the east.
The sun would not be up for another half hour, yet. The boy at once began, with steady earnestness, to rub two pieces of stick together, according to their way of kindling a fire. It was a quarter of an hour before the sparks began to drop from the wood. These, with some very dry leaves and tiny chips of wood, the Indian boy rapidly blew into life; and then, with a very small fire of dry wood, he sat patiently watching the east.
At the moment that the sun showed above the sea, he placed the little fire in the heart of the pile of wood which he had collected, threw the green leaves upon it, and blew vigorously until the whole caught fire, and a wreath of smoke ascended above them. For five minutes only he allowed the fire to burn, and then at once extinguished it carefully, knocking the fire from each individual brand. When the last curl of white smoke had ceased to ascend, he stood up and eagerly looked round the country.
It was a glorious view. On the one hand, the wood-clad hills sloped to the foot of the plain, covered with plantations, dotted here and there with the villages of the slaves, and the white houses of the overseers. At a distance could be faintly seen the towers of a city; while beyond, the sea stretched like a blue wall, far as the eye could see.
Inland the country was broken and mountainous; the hills being, in all cases, thickly covered with trees. From two points, in the heart of these hills, white smoke curled up, as soon as the smoke of their fire died away. These, too, in a short time also ceased to rise; and the boys knew that they were signal fires, in response to that which their guide had made. The boy hesitated, for a minute or two, as to the direction which he should take.
As, however, one of the fires appeared a good deal nearer than the other, this probably decided him in its favor; and he started, in a straight line, towards the spot where the smoke had curled up. Another two hours' walking, and they entered an open glade; where ten or twelve natives, and two or three negroes were gathered. They were greatly surprised at seeing two white men, but the presence of the native guide apparently vouched for these visitors; and although one or two of the men sprang up and, at a rapid pace, proceeded in the direction from which the newcomers had arrived, the rest simply rose to their feet and, grasping the spears, bows and arrows, and clubs which they carried, waited silently to hear what the Indian boy had to tell them.
He poured forth an animated strain of words, for a few minutes, and the faces of the Indians lit up with pleasure. The one among them who appeared to be the chief of the party advanced at once to the boys, and made every sign of welcome. One of the negroes also approached, and in broken Spanish asked them if they could speak in that language.
The boys were able, now, to reply in the affirmative; and quickly supplemented the account of them, which had been given by their guide, by their own description of the manner of their coming there. The negro, after explaining to the rest what the boys had said, then assured them, in the name of the chief, that every welcome was theirs; and that they hailed among them, as a happy incident, the arrival of two of the famous race who were the deadly enemies of the Spaniards.
The boys, on their part, assured them that they would endeavor to repay the hospitality with which they were received by their assistance, should the Spaniards make any attacks upon the tribe during the time they were there; that the English, everywhere, were the friends of those who were oppressed by the Spaniards; and that their countrymen were moved, with horror and indignation, at the accounts which had reached them of the diabolical treatment to which the Indians were exposed.
The party now pressed still further into the forest and, turning up a ravine, followed its windings for some distance; and then, passing through an exceedingly narrow gorge, reached a charming little valley; in which were some rough huts, showing that the residence of at least a portion of the runaways had been reached.
Here, for some time, life passed uneventfully with the boys. Their first care was to study sufficient of the language of the natives to enable them to hold converse with them, for it was clear to them that they might have to stop there for some considerable time. Their food consisted of roots, of wild fruit, and of yams; which the natives cultivated in small, scattered plots of ground. Many birds, too, were brought in, the natives bringing them down with small darts. They were able to throw their light spears with extreme precision, and often pierced the larger kinds of birds, as they sat upon the boughs of trees, with these weapons, before they could open their wings for flight. With bows and arrows, too, they were able to shoot with great accuracy; and the boys felt sure that, if properly led, they would be able to make a stout resistance to the Spaniards.
They heard, several times during the first three weeks of their sojourn there, of raids made by small parties of the Spaniards; but in none of these cases were the searchers successful in finding traces of the fugitive slaves, nor did they come into the part of the wood in which was the village which served as headquarters of the negroes.
At the end of three weeks, the boys accompanied a party of their friends to other points at which the fugitives were gathered. Altogether they found that, in that part of the island, there were some hundreds of natives, with about forty or fifty runaway negroes. Through the latter, the boys explained to the natives that they ought to build strong places to which, in case of necessity, they could retreat, and where they could offer a desperate resistance to the enemy. The extreme roughness of the ground, the deep ravines and precipices, were all favorable for defense; and although they could not hope to make a permanent resistance to a large armed force, yet they might easily resist small parties, and then make good their retreat before large reinforcements could arrive.
The negroes expressed their approval of the plans, but the Indians shook their heads over the proposition.
"These men have no courage," the blacks said to the boys. "Their heart is broken. They fly at the sound of a Spaniard's voice. What good do you expect from them? But if the Spaniards come, we fight. Our people are brave, and we do not fear death. If the Spaniards come we fight with you, and die rather than be taken back as slaves."
One morning, on rising, the boys heard some exclamations among their allies.
"What is it?" they asked.
The negroes pointed to films of smoke, rising from the summits of two hills, at a short distance from each other.
"What is that a sign of?" they asked.
"It is a sign that the Spaniards are coming. No doubt in pursuit of a runaway; perhaps with those terrible dogs. The Spaniards could do nothing among these mountains without them. They follow their game through the thickest woods."
"But," said Ned, "why on earth do not the negroes take to the trees? Surely there could be no difficulty in getting from tree to tree by the branches, for a certain distance, so as to throw the hounds off the scent."
"Many do escape in that way," the negro said; "but the pursuit is often so hot, and the dogs so close upon the trail, that there is little time for maneuvers of this sort; beside which, many of the fugitives are half mad with fear. I know, myself, that the baying of those horrible dogs seems to freeze the blood; and in my case, I only escaped by luckily striking a rivulet. Then my hopes rose again; and after following it, for a time, I had the happy thought of climbing into a tree which overhung it, and then dropping down at some little distance off, and so completely throwing the dogs off the trail."
"Why do they not shoot the dogs?" Ned asked. "I do not mean the men whom they are scenting, but their friends."
"We might shoot them," the negro said, "if they were allowed to run free; but here in the woods they are usually kept on the chain, so that their masters are close to them.
"Listen," he said, "do you not hear the distant baying?"
Listening attentively, however, the boys could hear nothing. Their ears were not trained so well as that of the negro, and it was some minutes before they heard a distant, faint sound of the deep bark of a dog. A few minutes later a negro, panting for breath, bathed in perspiration, and completely exhausted, staggered into the glade where they were standing. The other negroes gave a slight cry of alarm, at the proximity of so dangerous a comrade.
"Save me," the man cried. "I am pursued."
"How many men are after you?" Ned asked.
The negro started in astonishment, at seeing a white face and being questioned in Spanish. Seeing, however, that his comrades were on good terms with his questioner, he answered at once: "There are some twenty of them, with two dogs."
"Let us give them a sharp lesson," Ned said to the negroes standing round. "We have made preparations, and it is time that we began to show our teeth. If they find that they cannot come with impunity into our woods, they will not be so anxious to pursue single men; and will leave us alone, except they bring all the force of the island against us."
The negroes looked doubtful as to the wisdom of taking the initiative, so great was their fear of the Spaniards. However, the cheerfulness with which the two English boys proposed resistance animated them; and, with sharp whistles, they called the whole of their comrades to the place.
Ned briefly explained their intentions.
"There is no time to be lost. We must take our places on the upper ground of that narrow valley, and tell the man to run straight through. We have plenty of stones piled there, and may give the Spaniards a warmer reception than they expect. We could not have a better opportunity; for, with such small numbers as they have, they certainly would not be able to attack us, with any hope of success, up so steep a hillside."
The valley which Ned indicated was not one of those which led in the direction of their stronghold; but it was a very steep gorge, which they had remarked as being particularly well fitted for checking a pursuing party; and for that end had prepared piles of stones on the upper heights. The negroes, taking with them the sharpened poles which they used as spears, and their bows and arrows, started, under Ned and Gerald, to the indicated spot. Gerald had arranged to go with a party to one side of the gorge, Ned to the other; but they decided that it was better that they should keep together, the more to encourage the natives; and while a few negroes were sent to one side of the gorge, the main body, under the two English lads, kept together on the other. The fugitive had already gone ahead, with one of the negroes to show him the way.
Scarcely had they taken their places, at the top of the gorge; when the baying of the hounds, which had been increasing every minute in volume, became so loud that the Spaniards were clearly close at hand. In another three or four minutes there issued from the wood a party of some twenty men, leading two dogs by chains. The creatures struggled to get forward, and their eyes seemed almost starting out of their heads with their eagerness to reach the object of their pursuit. Their speed was, however, moderated by the fact that the band, who were all on horseback, had to pick their way through the great boulders. The wood itself was difficult for horsemen, but here and there were spaces, and they had been able to ride at a fair pace.
On entering the mouth of the gorge, however, they were obliged to fall into an order of two abreast, and sometimes even to go in Indian file. Huge boulders strewed the bottom of the chasm; where indeed a stream, in winter, poured through. The sides were by no means perpendicular, but were exceedingly precipitous.
When the Spaniards had fairly got into the gorge Ned gave the signal, and a shower of great stones came leaping down the sides of the rocks upon the astonished foes. Several were struck from their horses; many of the horses, themselves, were knocked down; and a scene of confusion at once took place. The Spaniards, however, were accustomed to fighting; and the person in command, giving a few orders, led ten of his men up the rocks upon the side where the assailants were in strongest force; while the rest of the party, seizing the horses' heads, drove the frightened animals back through the ravine to the mouth.
The instant that the Spaniards commenced their ascent, long habits of fear told upon some of the slaves, and these took to their heels at once. Many others stood more firmly, but were evidently wavering. Ned and Gerald, however, kept them at work hurling stones down, and more than one of the Spaniards was carried off his feet by these missiles.
Still they bravely ascended. Then Ned, taking a deliberate aim with his pistol, brought down one of the leaders; and this greatly surprised and checked the advance. The pistol shot was followed by that of Gerald, and the Spaniards wavered at this unexpected addition to the forces of the natives. Then Ned in English shouted: "Now, my brave Britons, show these Spaniards you can fight as well, on land, as at sea."
The words were probably not understood by any of the Spaniards, but they knew that the language was not Spanish or Indian; and the thought that a number of English were there completely paralyzed them. They hesitated, and then began slowly to fall back.
This was all that was needed to encourage the negroes. With a shout, these now advanced to the attack, shooting their arrows and hurling stones, and the retreat of the enemy was rapidly converted into a flight.
Their blood once thoroughly up, the negroes were ready for anything. Throwing aside their bows and arrows, they charged upon the Spaniards; and in spite of the superior arms and gallant defense of the latter, many of them were beaten down, and killed, by the heavy clubs and pointed starves of the negroes.
More, indeed, would have perished; and indeed, all might have fallen had not, at this moment, a formidable reinforcement of strength reached them. The men from below, having got the horses fairly out of the gorge, left but two of their number with them, and advanced to the assistance of their friends, bringing with them the two bloodhounds.
"Never fear the hounds," Ned shouted. "We can beat them to death, as easily as if they were pigs. Keep a bold front and attack them, and I warrant you they are no more formidable than their masters."
Had these reinforcements arrived earlier, they might have changed the fight; but the Spaniards who survived were anxious only to be off, and the negroes' blood was so thoroughly up that, under the leadership of the boys, they were prepared to face even these terrible dogs.
These threw themselves into the fray, with all the ferocity of their savage nature. Springing at the throats of two of the negroes, they brought them to the ground. One of the dogs was instantly disposed of by Gerald; who, placing his pistol to its ear, blew out its brains. Ned fell upon the other with his sword and, the negroes joining him, speedily beat it down and slew it.
The diversion, however, had enabled the Spaniards to get upon their horses; and they now galloped off, at full speed, among the trees.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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7
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: An Attack in Force.
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The negroes were delighted at the success of the conflict; as were the Indians, who soon joined them. But ten of the Spaniards had escaped, the rest having fallen; either in the gorge, killed by the rocks, or in the subsequent fight.
Ned and Gerald, who were now looked upon as the leaders of the party, told the negroes to collect the arms of the fallen men, and to give a hasty burial to their bodies. The boys knew, too well, the savage nature of the war which raged, between the black and the white, to ask whether any of the Spaniards were only wounded. They knew that an instant death had awaited all who fell into the hands of their late slaves.
"Now," Ned said, "my friends, you must not suppose that your fighting is over. The Spaniards will take the news back to the town, and it is likely enough that we shall have a large force upon us, in the course of a few days. I do not suspect that they will come before that time. Indeed, it may be far longer, for they know that it will require a very large force to search these woods; and that, now our blood is up, it will be no trifle to overcome us in our stronghold. If we are to succeed at last, labor, discipline, and courage will all be required."
The negroes now besought the boys formally to take the command, and promised to obey their orders, implicitly.
"Well," Ned said, "if you promise this, we will lead you. My friend is older than I; and he shall be captain, and I will be first lieutenant."
"No, no," Gerald said. "This must not be, Ned. I am the oldest, it is true, by a few months; but you are far more active and quick than I, and you have been the leader, ever since we left the ship. I certainly will not take the command from you."
"Well, we will be joint generals," Ned said, laughing; "and I do not think that our orders will clash."
He then explained, to the negroes and natives, the course which he thought that they ought to pursue. First, every point at which the enemy could be harassed should be provided with missiles. In the second place, all signs of footsteps and paths leading to their accustomed dwelling places should be obliterated. Thirdly, they should fight as little as possible; it being their object to fight when pursued and interfered with by small parties of Spaniards, but to avoid conflict with large bodies.
"Our object," he said, "is to live free and unmolested here; and if the Spanish find that, when they come in large numbers, they cannot overtake us; and that, when they come in small ones, they are defeated with loss; they will take to leaving us alone."
All agreed to this policy; and it was arranged that the women, children, and most feeble of the natives should retire to almost inaccessible hiding places, far in the mountains; and that the more active spirits, with the negroes, and divided into five or six bands, acting to some extent independently of each other, but yet in accordance with a general plan, should remain to oppose the passage of the enemy.
This, their first success over the Spaniards, caused a wild exultation among the negroes and natives; and Ned and Gerald were viewed as heroes. The lads took advantage of their popularity to impress upon the negroes the necessity of organizing themselves, and undergoing certain drill and discipline; without it, as they told them, although occasionally they might succeed in driving back the Spaniards, yet in the long run they must be defeated. It was only by fighting with regularity, like trained soldiers, that they would make themselves respected by the Spaniards; and the latter, instead of viewing them as wild beasts to be hunted, would regard them with respect.
The negroes, fresh from a success gained by irregular means, were at first loath to undertake the trouble and pains which the boys desired; but the latter pointed out that it was not always that the enemy were to be caught napping, and that after such a check as had been put upon them, the Spaniards would be sure to come in greater numbers, and to be far more cautious how they trusted themselves into places where they might be caught in a trap.
The weapons thrown away or left upon the ground, by the Spaniards, were divided among the negroes; and these and the natives were now formed into companies, natives and negroes being mixed in each company, so that the latter might animate the former by their example. Four companies, of forty men, each were formed; and for the next fortnight incessant drill went on, by which time the forest fugitives began to have a fair notion of the rudimentary elements of drill. When the boys were not engaged upon this, in company with one of the native chiefs they examined the mountains, and at last fixed upon a place which should serve as the last stronghold, should they be driven to bay by the enemy.
It was three weeks before there were any signs of the Spaniards. At the end of that time a great smoke, rising from the signal hill, proclaimed that a large body of the enemy were approaching the forest. This was expected; for, two days before, three negro runaways had taken shelter with them.
The negroes had been armed with long pikes of tough wood, sharpened in the fire, and capable of inflicting fully as deadly a wound as those carried by the Spaniards. Each carried a club, the leaders being armed with the swords taken from the Spaniards; while there were also eight arquebuses, which had been gained from the same source. All the natives bore bows and arrows, with which they were able to shoot with great accuracy. The negroes were not skilled with these weapons; but were more useful, from their greater strength, for hurling down rocks and missiles upon the Spaniards, when below.
A consultation had been previously held, as to the course to be taken in case of the approach of the enemy. It was determined as far as possible to avoid fighting, to allow the Spaniards to tramp from place to place, and then to harass them by falling upon them in the night, disturbing their sleep, cutting down sentries; and harassing them until they were forced, by pure exhaustion, to leave the forest.
These tactics were admirably adapted to the nature of the contest. The only thing which threatened to render them nugatory was the presence of the fierce dogs of the Spaniards. Preparations had already been made for checking the bloodhounds in pursuit of fugitive slaves. In a narrow place, in one of the valleys at the entrance of the forest, a somewhat heavy gallery had been erected. This was made of wood heaped with great stones, and was so arranged that any animal running through it would push aside a stick, which acted as a trigger. This would release a lever, and the heavy logs above would fall, crushing to death anything beneath it. A lookout was always placed to intercept any fugitive slaves who might enter the forest, and to guide them through this trap; which was, of course, not set until after they had passed. This had been done in the case of the two negroes who had arrived the previous day, and the boys felt that any pursuit of them by bloodhounds would at once be cut short, and the Spaniards left to their own devices.
This anticipation proved correct. The scouts reported that they could hear, in the distance, the baying of dogs; and that, undoubtedly, the enemy were proceeding on the track of the slaves.
The four companies were each told off, to positions considerably apart from each other; while Ned and Gerald, with the cacique, or chief, of the Indians, one negro, and four or five fleet-footed young men, remained to watch the success of the trap.
This was all that they had hoped. The Spaniards were seen coming up the glade, a troop two hundred strong. The leaders were on horseback, some fifteen in number; and after them marched the pikemen, in steady array, having men moving at a distance on each flank, to prevent surprise.
"This," said Ned, "is a regular military enterprise. The last was a mere pursuing party, gathered at random. It will not be so easy to deal with cautious men, like these."
Three hounds ran ahead of the leaders, with their noses on the ground, giving now and then the deep bay peculiar to their kind. They reached the trap, and rushed into the gallery, which was some twelve feet in length, and of sufficient height to enable a man on foot to march through.
The leaders, on seeing the trap, drew in their horses, in doubt what this structure could mean, and shouted to the hounds to stop. But the latter, having the scent strong in their nostrils, ran on without pausing. As the last hound disappeared in the gallery, a crash was heard, and the whole erection collapsed, crushing the hounds beneath it.
A cry of consternation and surprise burst from the Spaniards. The artifice was a new one, and showed that the fugitives were assisted by men with intellect far in advance of their own. The pursuit was summarily checked, for the guides of the Spaniards were now gone.
The enemy paused, and a consultation took place among the leaders. It was apparently determined to pursue their way alone, taking every precaution, in hopes that the natives would attack them as they had done the previous expedition; when they hoped to inflict a decisive blow upon them. That they would, themselves, be able to find the run-away negroes in the forest they had but small hope; but they thought it possible that these would again take the initiative.
First, under the guidance of one who had evidently been in the last expedition, they took their way to the valley where the fight had taken place. Here all was still. There were no signs of their foes. They found, in the gorge, a great cairn of stones; with a wooden cross placed over it, and the words in Spanish cut upon it: "Here lie the bodies of ten Spaniards, who sought to attack harmless men in these woods. Let their fate be a lesson to those who may follow their example."
This inscription caused great surprise among the Spaniards, who gathered round the mound and conversed earnestly upon it; looking round at the deep and silent woods, which might, for ought they knew, contain foes who had proved themselves formidable. It was evident that the soldiers, brave as they were, yet felt misgivings as to the task upon which they had entered. They knew that two Englishmen, a portion of the body which, under Drake, had rendered themselves so feared, were leaders of these men; and so great was the respect in which the English were at that time held, that this, alone, vastly added to the difficulties and dangers which the Spaniards saw awaiting them.
However, after a few minutes' consultation the party moved forward. It was now formed in two bodies, about equally strong; one going a quarter of a mile ahead, the other following it.
"What have these men divided their forces for?" the negro asked Ned.
"It seems to me," he answered, "that they hope we shall fall upon the first body, thinking that there are no more behind; and that the others, coming up in the midst of the fight, will take us by surprise. However, we will let them march.
"Send word, to the company which lies somewhat in the line which they have taken, of their approach; and let them at once retire. Tell them to make circuits in the hills, but to leave behind them sufficient traces for the Spaniards to follow. This will encourage them to keep on, and by nightfall they will be thoroughly tired out.
"Whenever they get in valleys, or other places where advantage may be taken of them, two of the companies shall accompany them, at a good distance on their flanks; and pour in volleys of arrows, or roll stones down upon them. I will take command of one of these companies, Gerald of the other.
"Do you," he said to the negro, "follow with the last. Keep out of their reach; but occasionally, after they have passed, fire arrows among the rear guard.
"Do you, cacique, make your way to the leading column. See that they choose the most difficult gorges; and give, as far as possible, the appearance of hurry to their flight, so as to encourage the Spaniards to follow."
These tactics were faithfully carried out. All day the Spaniards followed, as they believed, close upon the footsteps of the flying foe; but from time to time, from strong advantage spots, arrows were rained upon them, great rocks thundered down, and wild yells rang through the forest. Before, however, they could ascend the slopes and get hand to hand with their enemy, these had retreated, and all was silent as the grave in the woods.
Perplexed, harassed, and somewhat awe-struck by these new and inexplicable tactics; and having lost many men, by the arrows and stones of the enemy, the two troops gathered at nightfall in an open glade. Here a bivouac was formed, branches of the trees cut down, and the provisions which each had brought with him produced. A rivulet ran through the glade, and the weary troops were soon lying on the grass, a strong line of sentries having been placed round.
Already the appearance of the troop was greatly changed from that of the body which had entered the wood. Then all were eager for the fray; confident in the extreme of their power to crush, with ease, these unarmed negroes and natives, who had hitherto, except on the last occasion, fled like hunted deer at their approach. Now, however, this feeling was checked. They had learned that the enemy were well commanded, and prepared; and that so far, while they themselves had lost several men, not a native had been so much as seen by them.
At nightfall the air became alive with mysterious noises; cries as of animals, occasionally Indian whoops, shouts from one voice to another were heard all around. The Spaniards stood to their arms, and gazed anxiously into the darkness.
Soon the shouts of the sentries told that flights of arrows were being discharged at them, by invisible foes. Volley after volley were fired, from the musketoons and arquebuses, into the wood. These were answered by bursts of taunting laughter, and mocking yells, while the rain of arrows continued.
The Spanish troops, whose position and figures could be seen by the blaze of the lighted fires, while a dense darkness reigned within the forest, began to suffer severely from the arrows of these unseen foes. Bodies, fifty strong, advanced into the dark forest to search out their enemies; but they searched in vain. The Indians, better accustomed to the darkness, and knowing the forest well, easily retreated as they advanced; and the Spaniards dared not venture far from their fires, for they feared being lost in the forest.
The officer commanding, an old and experienced soldier, soon ceased these useless sorties. Calling his men into the center of the glade; he ordered them to stand in readiness to repel an assault, extinguished every fire, and allowed half the troop at once to lie down, to endeavor to snatch some sleep. This, however, was impossible; for although the Indians did not venture upon an attack, the chorus of shouts and yells was so terrible and continuous, and the flights of arrows at times fell so fast, that not one of the troop ventured to close an eye.
From time to time volleys were fired into the darkness; and once or twice a loud cry told that some, at least, of the balls had taken effect; but the opponents, sheltered each behind the trunk of a tree, suffered comparatively slightly, while many of the Spaniards were struck by their missiles.
Morning dawned upon a worn-out and dispirited band, but with daylight their hopes revived. Vigorous sorties were made into the wood; and though these discovered, in a few places, marks of blood where some of their enemies had fallen, and signs of a party being carried away, the woods were now as deserted as they had appeared to be on the previous evening, when they first halted.
There was a consultation among the leaders, and it was determined to abandon the pursuit of these invisible foes, as it was agreed that nothing, short of a great effort by the whole available force of the island, would be sufficient to cope with a foe whose tactics were so bewildering and formidable.
Upon their march out from the wood, the troop was pursued with the same persistence with which it had been dogged on the preceding day; and when at length it emerged, and the captain counted the numbers of his men, it was found that there were no less than thirty wounded, and that twenty had been left behind, dead.
The dwellers of the wood were overjoyed with their success, and felt that a new existence had opened before them. Hitherto they had been fugitives only, and no thought of resistance to the Spaniards had ever entered their minds. They felt now that, so long as they remained in the woods, and maintained their drill and discipline, and persisted in the tactics which they had adopted, they could defy the Spaniards; unless, indeed, the latter came in overwhelming strength.
Some time elapsed before any fresh effort was made by the Spaniards. The affair caused intense excitement in the city, and it is difficult to say whether alarm, or rage, most predominated. It was felt that a great effort must be made, to crush the men of the forest; for unless this were done, a vast number of the negro slaves would escape and join them, and the movement would become more formidable, every day.
Upon the part of those in the forest, great consultations took place. Some of the negroes were for sending messages to the slaves to rise and join them, but Ned and Gerald strongly opposed this course. There were, as they pointed out, no means whatever in the forest for supporting a larger body of men than those gathered there. The tree-clad hills which constituted their stronghold were some thirty miles in diameter; and the supply of fruits, of roots, and of birds were sufficient for their wants; but it would be very different, were their numbers largely increased. Then they would be forced to make raids upon the cultivated ground beyond; and here, however strong, they would be no match for the Spaniards, whose superior arms and discipline would be certain to give them victory.
The Indians strongly supported the reasoning of the boys, and the negroes, when they fully understood the difficulties which would arise, finally acquiesced in their arguments.
Schemes were broached for making sallies from the forest, at night, and falling upon the plantations of the Spaniards. This offered greater chances of success, but the boys foresaw that all sorts of atrocities would be sure to take place, and that no quarter would be given to Spaniards of either age or sex. They therefore combated vigorously this proposal, also. They pointed out that, so long as they remained quiet in the forest, and were not joined by large numbers of fugitive negroes, the Spaniards might be content to let them remain unmolested; but upon the contrary, were they to adopt offensive tactics, not only would every Spaniard in the island take up arms against them, but if necessary they would send for help to the neighboring islands, and would assemble a force sufficient thoroughly to search the woods, and to annihilate them.
The only case in which the boys considered that an attack upon the Spaniards would be lawful, would be in the event of fresh expeditions being organized. In that case, they were of opinion that it would be useful to destroy one or two large mansions and plantations, as near as possible to the town; sending at the same time a message to the Spaniards that, if they persisted in disturbing them in the forest, a similar fate would befall every Spanish plantation situated beyond the town.
It was not long before these tactics were called into play. One of the negroes had, as was their custom, gone down to the town, to purchase such articles as were indispensable. Upon these occasions, as usual, he went down to the hut of the old woman who acted as their intermediary; and remained concealed there, during the day, while she went into the town, to buy cotton for dresses, and other things. This she could only do in small quantities at a time, using various shops for the purpose; returning each time, with her parcel, to the hut.
The suspicion of the Spaniards had, however, been aroused; and orders had been given to watch her closely. The consequence was that, after purchasing a few articles, she was followed; and a band of soldiers surrounded the hut, after she had entered. The fugitive was there found concealed, and he and the old woman were at once fastened in the hut. This was then set alight, and they were burned to death, upon the spot.
When the news reached the mountains, Ned at once determined upon a reprisal. The negroes and natives were alike ready to follow him, and the next night the whole party, a hundred and fifty strong, marched down from the forest. The object of their attack was a handsome palace, belonging to the military governor of the island, situated at a short distance from the town.
Passing through the cultivated country, noiselessly and without detection, they reached the mansion and surrounded it. There were, here, a guard of some thirty soldiers, and sentries were placed at the entrance.
At the signal, given by the blowing of a conch shell, the attack commenced on all sides. The sentries were at once shot down, and the negroes and their allies speedily penetrated into the building. The Spanish guard fought with great bravery, but they were overpowered by the infuriated negroes. Yells, shrieks, and shouts of all kinds resounded through the palace.
Before starting on their adventure, Ned and Gerald had exacted a solemn oath, from each of the men who were to take part in it, that on no account would he lift his hand against a defenseless person; and also that he spare everybody who surrendered. The negroes were greatly loath to take this promise, and had Ned urged them to do so purely for the sake of humanity, the oath would unquestionably have been refused; for in those days of savage warfare, there was little or no mercy shown on either side. It was only on the ground of expediency, and the extreme necessity of not irritating the Spaniards beyond a certain point, that he succeeded in obtaining their promise.
In the principal room of the palace they found the governor, himself. His sword was in his hand, and he was prepared to defend his life to the last. The boys, however, rushed forward; and cried to him to throw his sword down, as the only plan by which his life could be saved. The brave officer refused, answering by a vigorous thrust.
In a moment the two lads had sprung upon him, one from each side, and wrested his sword from his hand. The negroes, with yells of triumph, were rushing upon him with drawn swords; but the boys sternly motioned them back, keeping well in front of their prisoner.
"You have sworn," they said, "and the first man who breaks his oath we will shoot through the head."
Then, turning to the governor they said: "Sir, you see what these men, whom you have so long hunted as wild beasts, can do. Take warning from this, and let all in the town know the determination to which we have arrived. If we are let alone, we will let others alone. We promise that no serious depredations, of any kind, shall be performed by any of our party in the forest; but if we are molested, or if any of our band who may fall into your hands are ill treated, we swear that, for each drop of blood slain, we will ravage a plantation and destroy a house.
"On this occasion, as you see, the negroes have abstained from shedding blood; but our influence over them may not avail, in future. Now that you see that we too can attack, you may think fit to leave us alone. In case of serious interference with us, we will lay waste the land, up to the houses of the city; and destroy every plantation, and hacienda."
Then they hurried the governor to a back entrance, gave him his sword again and, having seen him in safety, fairly beyond the reach of any of their party who might be wandering about, dismissed him.
Returning to the palace, they had to exert themselves to the utmost to prevail on the negroes to spare all who were there. Indeed, one man, who refused to obey Ned's orders and to lower his club, he shot down at once.
This vigorous act excited, for a moment, yells of indignation among the rest; but the firm bearing of the two young Englishmen, and the knowledge that they were acting as they themselves had given them leave to act, should any of the party break their oaths, subdued them into silence.
The palace was now stripped of all portable and useful articles. Ned would not permit anything to be carried away of a merely ornamental or valuable character; but only such as kitchen utensils, crockery, stoves, arms, hangings, and articles of a description that would be useful to them, in their wild life in the forest. The quantity of arms taken was considerable as, in addition to those belonging to the guard, there were a considerable number piled in the armory, in readiness for any occasion when they might be required.
When all that could be useful to them was removed, lights were applied to the hangings and wooden lattice work; and, before they retired, they saw the flames take sufficient possession of the building to ensure its destruction.
Many of the negroes had at first laden themselves with wine, but this Ned peremptorily refused to allow them to carry away. He knew that it was of the most supreme necessity that good fellowship, and amity, should run between the members of the bands; and that, were wine to be introduced, quarrels might arise which would, in the end, prove fatal to all. He allowed, however, sufficient to be taken away to furnish a reasonable share for each man, at the feast which it was only natural they would wish to hold, in commemoration of their victory.
|
{
"id": "19206"
}
|
8
|
: The Forest Fastness.
|
It was with a feeling of triumph, indeed, that the negroes, after gaining their own fastness, looked back at the sky, lighted by the distant conflagration. They had now, for the first time, inflicted such a lesson upon their oppressors as would make a deep mark. They felt themselves to be really free; and knew that they, in their turn, had struck terror into the hearts of the Spaniards.
Retiring to the depths of the forest, great fires were made. Sheep, fowls, and other articles of provision, which had been brought back, were killed and prepared. Huge bonfires were lit, and the party, secure that, for twenty-four hours at least, the Spaniards could attempt no retributive measures, sat down to enjoy the banquet.
They had driven with them a few small bullocks, and also some scores of sheep. These, however, were not destined for the spit. They were to be placed in the heart of their country; so that, unless disturbed by the Spaniards, they might prove a source of future sustenance to them.
There was wild feasting that night, with dances, and songs of triumph in the negro and native dialects; and Ned and Gerald were lauded and praised, as the authors of the change which had taken place in the condition of the fugitives. Even the stern severity of Ned's act was thoroughly approved; and it was agreed, again, that anyone refusing to obey the orders of the white chiefs should forfeit his life.
The blow which the negroes had struck caused intense consternation throughout Hispaniola. The younger, and more warlike spirits were in favor of organizing an instant crusade, for sending to the other islands for more troops, for surrounding the forest country, and for putting the last of the negroes to the sword. More peaceful counsels, however, prevailed; for it was felt that the whole open country was, as Ned had told the governor, at their mercy; that the damage which could be inflicted would be enormous; and the satisfaction of putting the fugitives to death, even if they were finally conquered, would be but a poor recompense for the blow which might be given to the prosperity and wealth of the island. All sorts of schemes were mooted, by which the runaways could be beguiled into laying down their arms, but no practicable plan could be hit upon.
In the meantime, in the mountains, the bands improved in drill and discipline. They had now gained some confidence in themselves, and gave themselves up heartily to the work. Portions of land, too, were turned up; and yams and other fruits, on a larger scale than had hitherto been attempted, were planted. A good supply of goats was obtained, huts were erected, and the lads determined that, at least as long as the Spaniards allowed it, their lives should be made as comfortable as possible.
Fugitive slaves from time to time joined the party; but Ned strongly discouraged any increase, at present, from this cause. He was sure that, were the Spaniards to find that their runaways were sheltered there, and that a general desertion of their slaves might take place; they would be obliged, in self defense, to root out this formidable organization in their midst. Therefore, emissaries were sent out among the negroes, stating that none would be received, in the mountains, save those who had previously asked permission; this being only accorded in cases where such extreme brutality and cruelty had been exercised, by the masters, as would wholly justify the flight of the slave.
For some months, a sort of truce was maintained between the Spaniards and this little army in the woods. The blacks observed the promises, which Ned had made, with great fidelity. The planters found that no depredations took place, and that the desertions among their slaves were no more numerous than before; and had it depended solely upon them, no further measures would have been taken.
The case, however, was different among the military party in the island. To them, the failure of the expedition into the forest, and the burning of the governor's house, were matters which seriously affected their pride. Defeat by English buccaneers they were accustomed to; and regarding the English, at sea, as a species of demon against whom human bravery availed little. They were slightly touched by it; but that they should be defied by a set of runaway slaves; and of natives, whom they had formerly regarded with contempt; was a blow to their pride.
Quietly, and without ostentation, troops were drafted into the island from the neighboring posts, until a formidable force had been gathered there. The foresters had now plenty of means of communication with the negroes, who regarded them as saviors, to whom they could look for rescue and shelter, in case of their masters' cruelty; and were always ready to send messengers up into the forest, with news of every occurrence which took place under their observation. The grown-up slaves, of course, could not leave the plantation; but there were numbers of fleet-footed lads who, after nightfall, could be dispatched from the huts into the mountains, and return before daylight; while, even should they remain until the next night, they would attract no attention by their absence.
Thus, then, Ned and Gerald learned that a formidable body of Spaniards were being collected, quietly, in the town; and every effort was made to meet the coming storm. The various gorges were blocked with high barricades; difficult parts of the mountain were, with great labor, scarped so as to render the advance of an armed force difficult in the extreme; great piles of stones were collected, to roll down into the ravines; and provisions of yams, sweet potatoes, and other food were stored up.
The last stronghold had, after a great debate, been fixed upon at a point in the heart of one of the hills. This was singularly well adapted for defense The hill itself was extremely precipitous on all sides. On one side, it fell sheer down. A goat track ran along the face of this precipice, to a point where the hill fell back, forming a sort of semicircular arena on the very face of the precipice. This plateau was some two acres in extent. Here quantities of forage were heaped up in readiness, for the food of such animals as might be driven in there. The track itself was, with great labor, widened; platforms of wood being placed at the narrow points; and steps were cut in the hill behind the plateau to enable them, should their stronghold be stormed, to escape at the last moment up to the hilltop above. In most places the cliff behind the plateau rose so steeply as to almost overhang the foot; and in these were many gaps and crevices, in which a considerable number of people could take shelter, so as to avoid stones and other missiles hurled down from above.
At one point in particular the precipice overhung, and under this a strong erection of the trunks of trees was made. This was for the animals to be placed in. The heavy roof was amply sufficient to keep out any bullet shots; while, from its position, no masses of rock could be dropped upon it.
It was not thought probable that the Spaniards would harass them much from above, for the ascent to the summit was everywhere extremely difficult; and the hillside was perfectly bare, and sloped so sharply upward, from the edge of the precipitous cliff, that it would be a difficult and dangerous task to descend, so as to fire down into the arena; and, although every precaution had been taken, it was felt that there was little fear of any attack from above.
At last all was in readiness, as far as the efforts of those in the forest could avail. A message was then sent in to the governor, to the effect that the men of the forest desired to know for what purpose so many soldiers were being assembled in the island; and that, on a given day, unless some of these were embarked and sent off, they would consider that a war was being prepared against them, and that the agreement that the outlying settlements should be left intact was therefore invalid.
As the boys had anticipated, the Spaniards answered this missive by an instant movement forward; and some four hundred men were reported as moving out towards the hills. This the boys were prepared for, and simultaneously with the movement the whole band--divided into parties of six, each of which had its fixed destination and instructions, all being alike solemnly pledged to take no life in cold blood, and to abstain from all unnecessary cruelties--started quickly from the forest.
That night the Spanish force halted near the edge of the forest; but at midnight a general consternation seized the camp when, from fifty different points, flames were seen suddenly to rise on the plain. Furious at this misfortune, the general in command put his cavalry in motion, and scoured the country; only to find, however, that the whole of the haciendas of the Spanish proprietors were in flames, and that fire had been applied to all the standing crops. Everywhere he heard the same tale; that those who had resisted had been killed, but that no harm had been inflicted upon defenseless persons.
This was so new a feature, in troubles with the negroes, that the Spaniards could not but be surprised, and filled with admiration at conduct so different to that to which they were accustomed. The sight of the tremendous destruction of property, however, roused them to fury; and this was still further heightened when, towards morning, a great burst of flame in the city proclaimed that the negroes had fallen upon the town, while the greater portion of its defenders were withdrawn.
This was, indeed, a masterly stroke on the part of the boys. They knew that, even deducting those who had set forth, there would still be an amply sufficient force in the city to defeat and crush their band; but they thought that, by a quick stroke, they might succeed in inflicting a heavy blow upon them. Each of the bands therefore had instructions, after doing its allotted share of incendiarism, to make for the town, and to meet at a certain point outside it. Then, quietly and noiselessly, they had entered. One party fell upon the armory, and another attacked with fury the governor's house. The guards there were, as had happened with his residence in the country, cut down. Fire was applied in a dozen places and, before the astonished troops and inhabitants could rally, from the different parts of the town, the negroes were again in the country; having fulfilled their object, and carried off with them a large additional stock of arms.
Before the cavalry from the front could arrive, they were again far in the country; and, making a long detour, gained their fastness, having struck a terrible blow, with the cost to themselves of only some eight or ten lives.
It was a singular sight, as they looked out in the morning from their hilltops. Great masses of smoke extended over the whole country; for although most of the dwellings were, by this time, leveled to the ground--for, built of the lightest construction, they offered but little resistance to the flames--from the fields of maize and cane, clouds of smoke were still rising, as the conflagration spread; and at one stroke the whole agricultural wealth of the island was destroyed. The boys regretted that this should necessarily be the case; but they felt that it was now war, to the knife, between the Spaniards and them, and that such a defeat would be beneficial.
This, indeed, was the case; for the commander drew back his troops to the town, in order to make fresh arrangements, before venturing upon an attack on foes who showed themselves possessed of such desperate determination.
Another six weeks elapsed, indeed, before a forward movement was again commenced; and in that time considerable acquisitions of force were obtained. Strong as the bands felt themselves, they could not but be alarmed at the thought of the tremendous storm gathering to burst over their heads. The women had long since been sent away, to small native villages existing on the other side of the island, and living at peace with their neighbors Thither Ned also dispatched several of the party whom he believed to be either wanting in courage, or whose constancy he somewhat doubted. A traitor now would be the destruction of the party; and it was certain that any negro deserting to the enemy, and offering to act as their guide to the various strongholds of the defenders, would receive immense rewards. Thus it was imperative that every man, of whose fidelity and constancy the least doubt was entertained, should be carefully sent out of the way of temptation. All the band were, indeed, pledged by a most solemn oath; and death, by torture, was the penalty awarded for any act of treachery.
The greater portion of the force were now provided with European arms. The negroes had musketoons or arquebuses, the natives still retained the bow, while all had pikes and spears. They were undefended by protective amour, and in this respect the Spaniards had a great advantage in the fight; but, as the boys pointed out, this advantage was more than counterbalanced by the extra facility of movement, on the part of the natives, who could scale rocks and climb hills absolutely inaccessible to their heavily armed and weighty opponents.
The scouts, who had been stationed on the lookout at the edge of the forest, brought word that the Spaniards, nigh 1500 strong, had divided in six bodies; and were marching so as to enter the forest from six different, and nearly equidistant, points. Each band was accompanied by bloodhounds, and a large number of other fierce dogs of the wolfhound breed, which the Spaniards had imported for the purpose of attacking negroes in their hiding places. Of these animals the negroes had the greatest dread; and even the bravest, who were ready to match themselves against armed Spaniards, yet trembled at the thought of the encounter with these ferocious animals.
It was clear that no repetition of the tactics formerly pursued would be possible; for if any attempt at night attacks were made, the dogs would rush out and attack them; and not only prove formidable enemies themselves, but guide the Spaniards to the places where they were stationed. Ned and Gerald would fain have persuaded the natives that dogs, after all, however formidable they might appear, were easily mastered by well-armed men; and that any dog rushing to attack them would be pierced with spears and arrows, to say nothing of being shot by the arquebuses, before he could seize any of them. The negroes, however, had known so many cases in which fugitives had been horribly torn, and indeed, frequently killed, by these ferocious animals, that the dread of them was too great for them to listen to the boys' explanations. The latter, seeing that it would be useless to attempt to overcome their fears, on this ground, abstained from the attempt.
It had been agreed that, in the event of the Spaniards advancing from different quarters, one column only should be selected for a main attack; and that, while the others should be harassed by small parties, who should cast down rocks upon them while passing through the gorges, and so inflict as much damage as possible, no attempt would be made to strike any serious blow upon them. The column selected for attack was, naturally, that whose path led through the points which had been most strongly prepared and fortified. This band mustered about three hundred; and was clearly too strong to be attacked, in open fight, by the forest bands. Gerald and Ned had already talked the matter over in every light, and decided that a purely defensive fight must be maintained; each place where preparations had been made being held to the last, and a rapid retreat beaten to the next barricade.
The Spaniards advanced in heavy column. At a distance of a hundred yards, on each side, marched a body of fifty in compact mass, thereby sheltering the main body from any sudden attack.
The first point at which the lads had determined to make a stand was the mouth of a gorge. Here steep rocks rose perpendicularly from the ground, running almost like a wall along that portion of the forest. In the midst of this was a cleft, through which a little stream ran. It was here that the boys had made preparations. The point could not be turned, without a long and difficult march along the face of the cliff; and on the summit of this sixty men, divided into two parties, one on each side of the fissure, were stationed.
The Spaniards advanced until they nearly reached the mouth of the ravine. It must be remembered that, although the forest was very thick, and the vegetation luxuriant; yet there were paths here and there, made by the constant passing, to and fro, of the occupants of the wood. Their main direction acted as a guide to the Spaniards; and the hounds, by their sniffing and eagerness, acted as a guide to the advancing force.
They paused when they saw, opening before them, this entrance to the rocky gorge. While they halted, the increased eagerness of the dogs told them that they were now approaching the point where their foes were concealed; and the prospect of an attack, on so strong a position, was formidable even to such a body.
A small party, of thirty men, was told off to advance and reconnoiter the position. These were allowed to enter the gorge, and to follow it for a distance of a hundred yards, to a point where the sides were approached to their nearest point. Then, from a parapet of rock piled across the ravine came a volley of musketry; and, simultaneously, from the heights of either side great stones came crashing down. Such of the party as did not fall at the first discharge fired a volley at their invisible assailants, and then hurried back to the main body.
It was now clear that fighting, and that of a serious character, was to be undertaken. The Spanish commander rapidly reconnoitered the position; and saw that here, at least, no flanking movement was possible. He therefore ordered his men to advance, for a direct attack. Being more afraid of the stones from above than of the defenders in the ravine, the Spaniards prepared to advance in skirmishing order; in that way they would be able to creep up to the barricade of rocks with the least loss, to themselves, from the fire of its defenders; while the stones from above would prove far less dangerous than would be the case upon a solid column.
With great determination, the Spanish troops advanced to the attack. As they neared the mouth of the gorge, flights of arrows from above were poured down upon them; and these were answered by their own musketeers and bowmen, although the figures occasionally exposed above offered but a poor mark, in comparison to that afforded by the column below.
The men on the ridge were entirely natives, the boys having selected the negroes, on whose courage at close quarters they could more thoroughly rely, for the defense of the ravine. The firearms in those days could scarcely be termed arms of precision. The bell-mouth arquebuses could carry a large and heavy charge, but there was nothing like accuracy in their fire; and although a steady fire was kept up from the barricade, and many Spaniards fell; yet a larger number succeeded in making their way through the zone of fire, by taking advantage of the rocks and bushes; and these gathered, near the foot of the barricade.
The stones which came crashing from above did serious damage among them, but the real effect of these was more moral than physical. The sound of the great masses of stone, plunging down the hillside, setting in motion numbers of small rocks as they came, tearing down the bushes and small trees, was exceedingly terrifying at first; but as block after block dashed down, doing comparatively little harm, the Spaniards became accustomed to them; and, keeping under the shelter of masses of rock, to the last moment, prepared all their energies for the attack. The Spanish commander found that the greater portion of his troop were within striking distance, and he gave the command, to those gathered near the barricade, to spring forward to the attack.
The gorge, at this point, was some fifteen yards wide. The barricade across it was thirty feet in height. It was formed of blocks of stone, of various sizes; intermingled with which were sharp stakes, with their points projecting; lines of bushes and arms of trees, piled outwards; and the whole was covered loosely with sharp prickly creepers, cut from the trees and heaped there. A more difficult place to climb, even without its being defended from above, would be difficult to find. The covering of thorny creepers hid the rocks below; and at each step the soldiers put their feet into deep holes between the masses of rock, and fell forward, lacerating themselves horribly with the thorns, or coming face downwards on one of the sharp-pointed stakes. But if, without any resistance from above, the feat of climbing this carefully prepared barricade was difficult; it was terrible when, from the ridge above, a storm of bullets swept down. It was only for a moment that the negroes exposed themselves, in the act of firing. Behind, the barricade was as level and smooth as it was difficult upon the outer side. Great steps, some three feet wide, had been prepared of wood; so that the defenders could easily mount and, standing in lines, relieve each other as they fired. The stones of the top series had been carefully chosen of a form so as to leave, between each, crevices through which the defenders could fire, while scarcely exposing themselves to the enemy.
The Spaniards behind endeavored to cover the advance of their comrades, by keeping up a heavy fire at the summit of the barricade; and several of the negroes were shot through the head, in the act of firing. Their loss, however, was small in comparison to that of the assailants; who strove, in vain, to climb up the thorny ascent, their position being the more terrible inasmuch as the fire from the parties on the rocks above never ceased, and stones kept up a sort of bombardment on those in the ravine. Even the fierce dogs could with difficulty climb the thorn-covered barriers, and those who reached the top were instantly shot, or stabbed.
At last, after suffering very considerable loss, the Spanish commander drew off his soldiers; and a wild yell of triumph rose from the negroes. The combat however had, as the boys were aware, scarcely begun; and they now waited, to see what the next effort of the Spaniards would be.
It was an hour before the latter again advanced to the attack. This time the troops were carrying large bundles of dried grass and rushes; and although again suffering heavily in the attack, they piled these at the foot of the barricade, and in another minute a flash of fire ran up the side. The smoke and flame, for a time, separated the defenders from their foes; and the fire ceased on both sides, although those above never relaxed their efforts to harass the assailants.
As the Spaniards had calculated, the flame of the great heap of straw communicated with the creepers, and burnt them up in its fiery tongue; and when the flames abated, the rocks lay open and uncovered. The Spaniards now, with renewed hopes, advanced again to the attack; and this time were able, although with heavy loss, to make their way up the barricade.
When they arrived within three or four feet of the top, Ned gave the word; and a line of thirty powerful negroes, each armed with a long pike, suddenly arose and, with a yell, threw themselves over the edge and dashed down upon the Spaniards. The latter, struggling to ascend, with unsteady footing on the loose and uneven rocks, were unable for an instant to defend themselves against this assault.
The negroes, barefooted, had no difficulty on the surface which proved so fatal to the Spaniards; and, like the crest of a wave, they swept their opponents headlong down the face of the barricade. The heavily armed Spaniards fell over each other, those in front hurling those behind backwards in wild confusion; and the first line of negroes being succeeded by another, armed with axes, who completed the work which the first line had begun; the slaughter, for a minute, was terrible.
For some thirty paces, the negroes pursued their advantage; and then at a loud shout from Ned turned, and with a celerity equal to that of their advance, the whole were back over the barricade, before the Spaniards in rear could awaken from their surprise; and scarcely a shot was fired, as the dark figures bounded back into shelter.
This time, the Spanish officer drew back his men sullenly. He felt that they had done all that could be expected of them. Upwards of sixty men had fallen. It would be vain to ask them to make the assault again. He knew, too, that by waiting, the other columns would be gradually approaching; and that, on the morrow, some method of getting in the enemy's rear would probably be discovered.
In the meantime, he sent off fifty men on either flank, to discover how far its rocky wall extended; while trumpeters, under strong guards, were sent up to the hilltops in the rear, and sounded the call lustily. Musketoons, heavily charged so as to make as loud a report as possible, were also fired to attract the attention of the other columns.
The boys were perfectly aware that they could not hope, finally, to defend this position. They had, however, given the Spaniards a very heavy lesson; and the success of the defense had immensely raised the spirit and courage of their men. The signal was therefore given for a retreat; and in half an hour both the Indians, on the summit of the hill, and the negroes, behind the barricade, had fallen back; leaving only some half dozen to keep up the appearance of defense, and to bring back tidings of the doings of the enemy; while the rest hurried off, to aid the detached parties to inflict heavy blows upon the other columns.
It was found that these were steadily approaching, but had lost a good many men. The reinforcements enabled the natives to make a more determined resistance, and in one or two places the columns were effectually checked. The reports, when night fell, were that the Spaniards had altogether lost over two hundred men; but that all their columns had advanced a considerable distance towards the center of the forest; and had halted, each as they stood; and bivouacked, keeping up huge fires and careful watches.
It formed no part, however, of the boys' plan to attack them thus; and when morning dawned the whole of the defenders, each taking different paths, as far as possible; some even making great circuits, so as to deceive the enemy, were directed to make for the central fortress. The intermediate positions, several of which were as strong as the barricade which they had so well defended, were abandoned; for the advance from other quarters rendered it impossible to hold these.
|
{
"id": "19206"
}
|
9
|
: Baffled.
|
By midday, all the defenders of the forest were assembled in the semi-circular plateau on the face of the hill; and, scouts having been placed near the entrance, they awaited the coming of the enemy. So far as possible, every means had been taken to prevent the access to their place of retreat being discovered. A stream had been turned, so as to run down a small ravine, leading to its approach. Trees which had been blown down by the wind had been previously brought, from a considerable distance; and these were piled in careless confusion across the gorge, so as to look as if they had fallen there, and give an idea that no one could have passed that way.
For the next two days, all was quiet. A scout upon the hilltop, and others who were told off to watch the Spaniards, reported that the woods below were being thoroughly searched; that the enemy were acting in the most methodical way, the columns being now in close connection with each other, the intermediate forest being searched foot by foot; and that all were converging towards the central mountains of the position. The dogs had proved valuable assistants, and these were tracking the paths used by them, and steadily leading them towards the stronghold.
That they would finally escape detection none of the defenders had much hope. The Spaniards would be sure that they must be somewhere within their line; and after the loss suffered, and the immense preparations made, it was certain that they would not retire until they had solved the mystery, and, if possible, annihilated the forest bands.
On the fourth day after entering the wood, the Spaniards came to the point where the barricade of trees had been erected. So skilfully had this been constructed that they would have retired, believing that there was no path beyond this little gorge; however, the restlessness and anger of the dogs convinced them that there must be something behind. Slowly a passage was cut, with axes, through the virgin forest on either side; for the lesson they had received had checked their impetuosity. They came down at the side of the barricade, and thus having passed it, pressed forward in steady array until they came to the foot of the great cliff. Here the dogs were not long before they pointed out to the assailants the narrow path, scarce visible, running along its face; and a shout of satisfaction from the Spaniards testified that they now felt certain that they had caught their enemies in a trap.
Parties were sent off to positions whence they could obtain a good view of the place, and these soon reported that the ledge continued to a great opening in the face of the precipice; that in some places logs had been fixed to widen the path; and that there was plenty of room, on the plateau formed by the retirement of the hill face, for a large body to have taken refuge. They also reported that the cliffs rose behind this amphitheater almost, if not quite perpendicularly for a great height; and that, still higher, the bare rock fell away at so steep an angle that it would be difficult, in the extreme, to take up such a position from above as would enable them to keep up a musquetry fire, or to hurl rocks upon the defenders of the amphitheater.
When the reports were considered by the Spanish leader, he saw at once that this was not an enterprise to be undertaken rashly. Men were sent down to the plain below to reconnoiter; while others were dispatched round the mountain, to see whether the path extended across the whole face of the precipice, and also to discover, if possible, whether the recess was commanded from above.
Both reports were unfavorable From the valley the great natural strength of the position was manifest, for half a dozen men could defend such a path as this against a thousand, by placing themselves behind an angle and shooting down all who turned the corner; while the men from above reported that the peak shelved so rapidly towards the top of the sheer precipice, that it would be impossible to get near enough to the edge to see down into the amphitheater They reported, however, that stones and rocks set going would dash down below, and that points could be gained from which these missiles could be dispatched on their errand.
A council of war was held; and it was determined, in the first place, to endeavor to force the position by direct attack. Some men of approved courage were chosen to lead the forlorn hope; a number of marksmen, with arrows and firearms, were placed in the valley to keep up a fire upon any who might show themselves on the path, while above, several hundreds of men were sent up, with crowbars, to loosen and hurl down rocks.
The defenders, on their part, were not idle. Two spots had been chosen in the pathway for the defense At each of these the face of the cliff extended sharply out in an angle, and it was on the side of this angle next to the amphitheater that the preparations were made. Here barricades of stones were heaped up on the path, which at this point was some three yards wide. Six of the steadiest and most courageous negroes were placed here, with muskets and pikes. Two of them were to lie with their guns pointed at the protecting angle so that, the instant anyone showed himself round the corner, they could open fire upon him. The others were lying in readiness to assist, or to relieve those on guard. Either Gerald or Ned remained with them, always.
A few stones were thrown up on the outside edge of the path, to protect the defenders from the shots of those in the valley below; not indeed that the danger from this source was very great, for the face of the precipice was some eight hundred feet high, and the path ran along some four hundred from the bottom. With the clumsy arms in use, in those days, the fear of any one being struck from below was by no means great.
A similar barricade was erected behind, and the negroes were, in case of extreme necessity, to fall back from their first position. At the second point an equal number of men were placed.
Lastly, where the path ended at the amphitheater, strong barricades had been erected in a sort of semicircle; so that anyone, after having forced the first defenses, would, as he showed himself at the entrance to the amphitheater, be exposed to the fire of the whole of its defenders.
The position was so strong that Ned and Gerald had no fear, whatever, of its being forced. As the time approached when Ned expected an attack, the defenders of the farthest barricade were strengthened by a considerable number, lying down upon the path; for it was certain that, for the first two or three assaults, the Spaniards would push matters to the utmost; and that they would not be repulsed, without severe fighting.
So indeed it proved. Advancing with great caution along the narrow path, which was sometimes seven or eight feet wide, sometimes narrowing to a few inches, the leaders of the party of attack made their way along, until they turned the projecting point. Then the guns of the two men on guard spoke out, and the two leaders fell, shot through the body, over the precipice. Now that they knew the position of their enemy, the Spaniards prepared for a rush. Gathering themselves as closely as they could together, they pressed round the corner. Shot after shot rang out from the defenders, as they turned it; but although many fell, the others pressed forward so numerously, and bravely, that they could be said fairly to have established themselves round the corner.
The barricade now, however, faced them; and behind this were gathered the bravest of the negroes, led by the boys. The barricade, too, had been covered with thorny branches, as had that which they had defended before; and the Spaniards, of whom only some ten or twelve could find fighting room round the corner, were shot down before they could make any impression, whatever.
Bravely as they fought, it was impossible for men to maintain so unequal and difficult a fight as this; and after trying for an hour to storm the barricade, the Spaniards fell back, having lost over fifty of the best of their men.
In the meantime, with a thundering sound, the rocks were rolling down from the summit of the mountain. The greater portion of them did not fall in the amphitheater at all; but, from the impetus of their descent down the sloping rocks above, shot far out beyond its edge. Others, however, crashed down on to the little plateau; but all who were there were lying so close to the face of the rock, that the missiles from above went far beyond them.
From below in the valley a constant fire was kept up, but this was as innocuous as the bombardment from above; and when the Spaniards fell back, only three of the defenders had been in any way injured, and these were hit by the pistol balls, fired by the assailants of the barricade.
When the Spaniards retired, all, except the men told off for the posts at the barricades, fell back to the amphitheater The negroes and natives were, both alike, delighted with the success of the defense; and were now perfectly confident of their ability to hold out, as long as their provisions lasted. There was no fear of want of water, for from the face of the hill a little stream trickled out. Piles of yams, bananas, sweet potatoes, and other tropical fruit had been collected, and a score of sheep; and with care, the boys calculated that for five weeks they could hold out.
The Spaniards were furious at the non-success of their enterprise, but after reconnoitering the position in every way, the commanders came to the conclusion that it was absolutely impregnable, and that the only plan was to starve out the besieged. It did not appear that there could be any other way of retreat, and a small force could watch the path; as it would be as difficult for the besieged to force their way back by it, as for the besiegers to find an entry. The greater portion of the force was, therefore, marched home; a guard of two hundred men being set, to watch the point where the path along the precipice started.
The incidents of the five weeks which elapsed after the siege began were not important. It was soon found that the Spaniards had abandoned the notion of attack; but the vigilance of the defenders was never relaxed, for it was possible, that at any moment the enemy, believing that they had been lulled into carelessness, might renew their attack.
Twice, indeed, at nightfall the Spaniards advanced and crept round the point of defense; but were each time received so quickly, by the fire of the defenders of the barricade, that they were finally convinced that there was no hope, whatever, of catching them napping.
At the end of five weeks it was determined that the time had arrived when they should leave their fortress. The Spaniards had placed a guard of fifty men near the foot of the precipice, to prevent any attempt of the besieged to descend its face by means of ropes; but above no precautions had been taken, as it appeared impossible, to anyone looking at the face of the cliff from a distance, that a human being could scale it.
Thanks, however, to the pains which had been taken previously, the way was open. In most places, rough steps had been cut; in others, where this was impossible, short stakes had been driven into crevices of the rock to form steps; and although the ascent was difficult, it was quite possible, to lightly clad and active men.
The time chosen for the attempt was just after dusk had fallen, when it was still light enough to see close at hand, but dark enough to prevent those in the valley observing what was passing. A young moon was already up, giving sufficient light to aid the enterprise. Some of the most active of the natives first ascended. These were provided with ropes which, at every bend and turn of the ascent, they lowered so as to give assistance to those mounting behind. The strictest silence was enforced, and the arms were all wrapped up, so as to avoid noise should they strike the rock.
One by one the men mounted, in a steady stream. All were barefooted, for Ned and Gerald had imitated the example of the natives; and upon such a task as this, the bare foot has an infinitely safer hold than one shod with leather. Although the cliff looked quite precipitous, from a distance; in reality it sloped gently backwards, and the task was far less difficult than it appeared to be.
The most dangerous part, indeed, was that which followed the arrival at the top. The mountain sloped so steeply back that it was like climbing the roof of a very steep house, and hand and foot were, alike, called into requisition to enable them to get forward; indeed, to many it would have been impossible, had not the leaders lowered their ropes down from above, affording an immense assistance to those following.
At last, the whole body reached the top and, descending upon the other side, plunged into the forest. They directed their course to a valley, ten miles distant, where considerable supplies of provisions had been stored up; and where some of their crops had been planted, a few weeks before the arrival of the Spaniards. Here for two days they feasted, secure that a considerable time might elapse, before the Spaniards discovered that they had vanished from the fortress.
Then they prepared to put into execution the plan upon which they had resolved. They knew that in the town, there would be no watch of any sort kept; for all believed them cooped up, without a chance of escape. The four troops then, commanded as before, issued from the forest as the sun went down, and marched towards the town. It was soon after midnight when they entered the streets and, proceeding noiselessly through them, advanced to the spot assigned to each.
One was to attack the governor's house, and to make him a prisoner; two others were to fall upon the barracks, and to do as much harm as possible; while the fourth was to proceed to the government magazines of stores and munitions, to fire these at a great many places.
This programme was carried out successfully. The guards at the governor's house were overpowered in an instant and, as it had been surrounded, all the inmates were captured. Those of the men who defended themselves were cut down, but Gerald and Ned had insisted that no unnecessary slaughter should take place.
The party attacking the barracks had no such instructions. It was legitimate for them to inflict as much loss as possible upon the soldiers; and when, with terrible shouts, the negroes broke in upon them, the Spaniards, taken by surprise, offered but a feeble resistance. Large numbers of them were cut down, before they could rally or open fire upon their enemies. As soon as the resistance became serious, the negroes and Indians vanished, as quickly as they had come.
In the meantime, the whole of the town was lit up by sheets of fire, rising from the government magazines. The alarm bells of the churches tolled out, the shouts of the frightened inhabitants mingled with the yells of the natives, and the report of firearms, from all parts of the town; and the townspeople thought that a general sack and slaughter was at hand.
The negroes, however, entered no private house, but in an hour from their first appearance they had retired beyond the town; and were making their way, in a solid and well-ordered mass, for the forest, bearing in their center the governor and two of his sons.
The success of the enterprise had been complete. They were now, Ned thought, in a position, if not to dictate terms to the enemy, at least to secure for themselves an immunity from attacks. Day was breaking when they entered the hills and, an hour later, one of the sons of the governor was sent to the party still besieging their former stronghold, to inform them that the besieged had all escaped, had made a raid upon the city, and had carried off the governor; whose instructions to them was that they were to at once fall back, to avoid being attacked by the negroes.
The officer commanding the besiegers was glad enough to call his men together, and to retire unharmed from the forest; which now began to inspire an almost superstitious fear in the Spaniards, so unexpected and mysterious had been the defeats inflicted upon them there. The governor's son accompanied the troops back to the city, and was the bearer of a missive from Ned to the officer commanding the troops, and to the inhabitants. Ned offered, upon the part of the forest men, that if the Spaniards would consent to leave them unmolested in their forest; they upon their part would, in the first place, release the governor, and in the second, promise that no acts of violence, or raids of any kind, should be made beyond its boundaries. The question of fugitive slaves, who might seek refuge among them, was to be discussed at a meeting between the heads of each party, should the proposal be accepted. The governor sent a line, on his part, to say that he was well treated, that he authorized them to enter into any negotiations which they might think fit; adding that, in case they should decide to refuse the offer made them, no thought of his safety should be allowed, for an instant, to sway their notions.
It was two days before the messenger returned. Several stormy meetings had taken place in the town. The officers were, for the most part, anxious to renew the fighting. They were intensely mortified at the idea of the forces of Spain being compelled to treat, upon something like even terms, with a handful of escaped slaves; and would have again marched the troops into the forest, and renewed the war. The townspeople, however, were strongly opposed to this. They had suffered immensely, already, by the destruction of the outlying plantations and haciendas; and the events of the attack upon the town showed that there was no little danger of the whole place being burnt to the ground. They were, therefore, eager in the extreme to make terms with this active and ubiquitous enemy. The troops, too, were by no means eager to attempt another entry into the forest. They had fared so ill, heretofore, that they shrank from another encounter. There was neither glory nor booty to be obtained, and warfare such as this was altogether unsuited to their habits. Their discipline was useless, and they were so bewildered, by the tactics of their active foes, that there was a very strong feeling among them in favor of making terms. The council sat the whole day, and finally the pacific party prevailed.
The deputation, consisting of the officer commanding the troops, of the ecclesiastic of highest rank in the town, and of one of the principal merchants, proceeded to the forest. When they were seen by the lookout to be approaching, Ned and Gerald, with the leading native and negro, proceeded to meet them. The details were soon arranged, upon the basis which had been suggested. The forest men were to enjoy their freedom, unmolested. They were to be allowed to cultivate land on the edge of the forest, and it was forbidden to any Spaniard to enter their limits, without previously applying for a pass. They, on their part, promised to abstain from all aggression, in any shape.
The question of runaways was then discussed. This was by far the most difficult part of the negotiations. The Spaniards urged that they could not tolerate that an asylum should be offered, to all who chose to desert from the plantations. The boys saw the justice of this, and finally it was arranged that the case of every slave who made for the forest should be investigated; that the owners should, themselves, come to lay a formal complaint of their case; that the slave should reply; and each might produce witnesses. The negro was to be given up, unless he could prove that he had been treated with gross cruelty, in which case he was to be allowed protection in the forest.
These preliminaries settled, a short document embodying them was drawn up, in duplicate, and these treaties were signed, by the three Spaniards who formed the deputation and by the governor on the one side, and by the four representatives of the forest men on the other.
Thus ended the first successful resistance, to Spanish power, among the islands of the western seas.
The governor and his son then left for the city, and the forest men retired to what was now their country. Ned and Gerald impressed upon their allies the importance of observing, strictly, the conditions of peace; and at the same time of continuing their exercises in arms, and maintaining their discipline. They pointed out to them that a treaty of this kind, extorted as it were from one, and that the strongest of the contracting powers, was certain not to have long duration. The Spaniards would smart at the humiliation which had, in their opinion, befallen them; and although the fugitive clause might for some time act favorably, it was sure, sooner or later, to be a bone of contention. They impressed upon them also that although they might, as had been shown, achieve successes for a time, yet that in the long run the power of the Spaniards must prevail, and that nothing short of extermination awaited them; therefore he urged the strictest adherence to the treaty, and at the same time a preparedness for the recommencement of hostilities.
Some months passed without incident, and the relations between the little community in the mountains and the Spaniards became more pacific. The latter found that the natives, if left alone, did them no damage. Bad masters learned that a course of ill treatment of their slaves was certain to be followed by their flight, and upon the bad treatment being proved, these found shelter among the mountains. Upon the other hand, the owners who treated their slaves with kindness and forbearance found that, if these took to the mountains in a fit of restlessness, a shelter there was refused them. Upon the edge of the forest, patches of plantation ground made their appearance; and the treaty was, upon the whole, well observed on both sides.
It was about a year after they had taken to the hills that news reached the boys that an English ship had come into those waters. It was brought them across at an island?? by some Simeroons who had been where the English ship anchored. They said that it was commanded by Master John Oxenford. The boys knew him, as he had been on board Captain Francis Drake's ship during the last expedition, and they determined to make an effort to join him. He had, however, left the island before the natives started with the news; and they made an arrangement with them, to convey them across to that place, when it should be learned that the vessel was returning, or was again there.
It was not long before they were filled with grief at the news that reached them, although they felt not a little thankful that they had not been able to join Captain Oxenford, when he first reached the islands. This adventurous seaman had, after the return to England of Captain Francis Drake's expedition, waited for some time on shore; and then, fretting under forced inactivity--for Captain Drake had, for the time, abandoned any project which he had entertained of a return to the Spanish seas, and had engaged in a war in Ireland--determined to equip an expedition of his own, with the assistance of several of those who had sailed in the last voyage with him, and of some Devonshire gentlemen who thought that a large booty might be made out of the venture.
He equipped a sloop of 140 tons burden, and sailed for Darien. When he arrived at this isthmus, he laid up his ship and marched inland, guided by Indians. After traveling twelve leagues among the mountains, he came to a small river running down into the Pacific. Here he and his comrades built a boat, launched it in the stream, and dropped down into the bay of Panama. Then he rowed to the Isle of Pearls, and there captured a small barque, from Quito, with sixty pounds of gold. This raised the spirits of the adventurers, and six days later they took another barque, with a hundred and sixty pounds of silver. They then set off in quest of pearls. They searched for a few days, but did not find them in proportion to their expectations. They therefore determined to return, and re-entered the mouth of the river they had descended. Here they loosed the prizes they had taken, and let them go.
The delay at Pearl Island was a mistake, and a misfortune. Captain Oxenford should have known that the Spanish authorities of the mainland would, when they heard that a single boat's load of Englishmen was ravaging their commerce, make a great effort to capture him; and his attack should have been swift and determined, and his retreat made without a halt. The fortnight which had been allowed to slip away caused his ruin. The news of their presence speedily arrived at Panama. Captain Ortuga was dispatched with four barques in search of them and, falling in with the liberated prizes, learned the course that the English had taken. The river had three branches, and the Spaniard would have been much puzzled to know which to ascend; but the carelessness of the adventurers gave him a clue; for, as he lay with his boats, wondering which river he should ascend, he saw floating on the water large quantities of feathers. These were sufficient indications of a camp on the banks, and he at once followed that branch of the stream.
In four days he came upon the boat, which was hauled upon the sand, with only six men with her. They were lying asleep on the bank, and the coming of the Spaniards took them completely by surprise, and one of them was killed before he could make his escape into the woods. The rest got off. The Spaniards left twenty men to guard the boat, and with eighty others went up the country. Half a league away they found some huts, and in these the treasures of gold and silver which the English had captured were discovered.
Satisfied with having recovered these, Captain Ortuga was about to return to the river with his men; when Oxenford, with the English and two hundred Simeroons, attacked them. The Spaniards fought bravely, and the Simeroons would not stand against their fire. The English struggled desperately. Eleven of these were killed, and the Simeroons took to their heels. Oxenford and a few of his companions escaped, and made their way back towards the spot where they had left their ship.
News of what was going on had, however, been sent across from Panama to Nombre de Dios, and four barques from that port had put out, and had found and taken Oxenford's ship. A band of a hundred and fifty men scoured the mountains, and into the hands of these Captain Oxenford and his companions fell. All of them were executed on the spot; except Oxenford, the master, the pilot, and five boys. These were taken to Panama, where the three men were executed, the lives of the five boys being spared.
This news was a sore blow to the lads, who had hoped much to be able to reach the ship, and to return to England in her. The delay, however, was not long, for a few weeks afterwards came the news that another English ship was in those waters. A party of Simeroons offered to take Ned and Gerald thither in their boat, and they determined to avail themselves of the offer.
Great was the lamentation, among the community in the forest, when the news that their leaders were about to leave became known. The simple Indians assembled around them, and wept, and used every entreaty and prayer, to change their resolution. However, the boys pointed out to them that they had already been absent near three years from home; and that, as the settlers were now able to defend themselves, and had earned the respect of the Spaniards, they would, if they continued their present course of avoiding giving any cause of complaint to the whites, no doubt be allowed to live in peace. They had, too, now learned the tactics that should be pursued, in case of difficulty; and by adhering to these, the boys assured them that they might rely upon tiring out the Spaniards. Some of the negroes were in favor of retaining the English leaders by force, but this was objected to by the majority. Many of the Indians possessed gold, which had been the property of their ancestors before the arrival of the Spaniards; and some of these treasures were now dug up, and the boys were presented with a great store of pretty ornaments, and other workmanship of the natives. Much rough gold was also placed on board their canoe, and a great portion of the dwellers of the hills marched down at night with them to the point of embarkation, a lonely creek far from the settlement of the Spaniards, to bid them farewell.
The boys, themselves, were affected by the sorrow of their friends, and by the confidence which these had placed in them; and they promised that, should they return to those parts, they would assuredly pay a visit to them, again, in the hills. Before leaving, they had seen that two of the worthiest and wisest of the natives were chosen as leaders, and to these all the rest had sworn an oath, promising to obey their orders in all respects. They had constantly acted with the boys; and had, indeed, been their chief advisers in the matters internal to the tribe; and the lads had little doubt that, for some time at least, things would go well in the mountains. As to the ultimate power of the refugees to maintain their independence, this must, they felt, depend upon events beyond them. If the Spaniards were left at peace, and undisturbed by English adventurers or other troubles, there was little doubt, sooner or later, they would destroy the whole of the natives of this island, as they had destroyed them in almost every place where they had come in contact with them. However, the boys had the satisfaction of knowing that they had been the means of, at least, prolonging the existence of this band, and of putting off the evil day, perhaps for years to come.
The Simeroons paddled out from the creek and, hoisting the sail, the boat merrily danced over the water; and the boys felt their spirits rise, at the hope of seeing their countrymen, and hearing their native tongue again, after eighteen months passed, absolutely separate from all civilized communion.
After two days sailing and paddling, they reached the bay where the natives had reported the English ship to be lying; and here, to their great delight, they found the Maria, Captain Cliff, lying at anchor.
Ned and Gerald, when they explained who they were, were received with great joy and amazement. The story of their loss had been told, in England; and the captain, who came from the neighborhood where Gerald's father dwelt, reported that the family had long mourned him as dead. He himself was bent, not upon a buccaneering voyage--although, no doubt, if a rich ship had fallen into his hands he would have made no scruple in taking it--but his object was to trade with the natives, and to gather a store of such goods as the islands furnished, in exchange for those of English make. He had, too, fetched slaves from the western coast of Africa, and had disposed of them to much advantage; and the ship was now about to proceed on her way home, each man's share, of the profits of the expedition, amounting to a sum which quite answered his expectations.
It was two months later before the boys, to their great delight, again saw the hills behind Plymouth. None who had seen them embark in the Swanne would have recognized, in the stalwart young fellows who now stepped ashore on the hove, the lads who then set sail. Nearly three years had passed. The sun of the tropics had burnt their faces almost to a mahogany color Their habit of command, among the natives, had given them an air and bearing beyond their years; and though Ned was but eighteen, and Gerald a little older, they carried themselves like men of mature years.
It had been, indeed, no slight burden that they had endured. The fighting which had formed the first epoch of their stay in the island, serious as it had been, had been less wearing to them than the constant care and anxiety of the subsequent quiet time. The arrival of each fugitive slave was a source of fresh danger, and it had often needed all their authority to prevent the younger, and wilder, spirits of their little community from indulging in raids upon the crops of the Spaniards.
Once in Plymouth, the lads said goodbye to each other, promising to meet again in a few days. Each then proceeded to his home. Ned, indeed, found that he had a home no longer; for on reaching the village he found that his father had died, a few months after his departure; and a new pedagogue had taken his place, and occupied the little cottage.
The shock was a great one, although hardly unexpected, for his father's health had not been strong; and the thought that he would not be alive, when he returned, had often saddened Ned's mind during his absence. He found, however, no lack of welcome in the village. There were many of his school friends still there, and these looked with astonishment and admiration on the bronzed, military-looking man, and could scarce believe that he was their playmate, the Otter.
Here Ned tarried a few days, and then, according to his promise to Gerald, started for the part of the country where he lived, and received a most cordial welcome from the father and family of his friend.
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{
"id": "19206"
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: Southward Ho!
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Upon making inquiries, Ned Hearne found that Captain Drake had, upon the return of his expedition, set aside the shares of the prize money of Gerald Summers, himself, and the men who were lost in the wreck of the prize, in hopes that they would some day return to claim them. Upon the evidence given by Gerald and himself of the death of the others, their shares were paid, by the bankers at Plymouth who had charge of them, to their families; while Ned and Gerald received their portions.
Owing to the great mortality which had taken place among the crews, each of the lads received a sum of nearly a thousand pounds, the total capture amounting to a value of over a million of money. As boys, they each received the half of a man's share. The officers, of course, had received larger shares; and the merchants who had lent money to get up the expedition gained large profits.
Ned thought, at first, of embarking his money in the purchase of a share in a trading vessel, and of taking to that service; but, hearing that Captain Drake intended to fit out another expedition, he decided to wait for that event, and to make one more voyage to the Spanish main, before determining on his future course. Having, therefore, his time on his hands, he accepted the invitation of the parents of his three boy friends, Tom Tressilis, Gerald Summers, and Reuben Gail. He was most warmly welcomed, for both Tom and Gerald declared that they owed their lives to him. He spent several weeks at each of their homes, and then returned to Plymouth, where he put himself into the hands of a retired master mariner, to learn navigation and other matters connected with his profession, and occupied his spare time in studying the usual branches of a gentleman's education.
It was some months before Captain Francis returned from Ireland, but when he did so, he at once began his preparations for his next voyage. The expedition was to be on a larger scale than that in which he had formerly embarked, for he had formed the resolve to sail round Cape Horn, to coast along north to the Spanish settlements upon the great ocean he had seen from the tree top in the Isthmus of Darien; and then, if all went well, to sail still further north, double the northern coasts of America, and to find some short way by which English ships might reach the Pacific. These projects were, however, known to but few, as it was considered of the utmost importance to prevent them from being noised abroad, lest they might come to the ears of the Spaniards, and so put them upon their guard.
In spite of the great losses of men upon the former expedition, the number of volunteers who came forward, directly Captain Drake's intention to sail again to the Indies was known, was greatly in excess of the requirements. All, however, who had sailed upon the last voyage, and were willing again to venture, were enrolled, and Captain Drake expressed a lively pleasure at meeting Ned Hearne and Gerald Summers, whom he had given up as lost.
The expenses of the expedition were defrayed partly from the funds of Captain Drake and his officers, partly by moneys subscribed by merchants and others who took shares in the speculation. These were termed adventurers. Ned embarked five hundred pounds of his prize money in the venture, as did each of his three friends.
He was now nineteen, and a broad, strongly-built young fellow. His friends were all somewhat older, and all four were entered by Captain Francis as men, and ranked as "gentlemen adventurers," and would therefore receive their full share of prize money.
On the 12th of November, 1577, the fleet sailed out of Plymouth Sound amid the salutes of the guns of the fort there. It consisted of five ships: the Pelican, of 100 tons, the flagship, commanded by Captain General Francis Drake; the Elizabeth, 80 tons, Captain John Winter; the Marigold, a barque of 30 tons, Captain John Thomas; the Swan, a flyboat of 50 tons, Captain John Chester; and the Christopher, a pinnace of 15 tons, Captain Thomas Moore.
The voyage began unfortunately, for, meeting a headwind, they were forced to put into Falmouth, where a tempest ill-treated them sorely. Some of the ships had to cut away their masts, and the whole were obliged to put back into Plymouth, to refit, entering the harbor in a very different state to that in which they had left it, a fortnight before. Every exertion was made and, after a few days' delay, the fleet again set sail.
They carried an abundance of stores, of all kinds, together with large quantities of fancy articles, as presents for the savage people whom they might meet in their voyaging. The second start was more prosperous than the first and, after touching at various points on the west coast of Africa, they shaped their way to the mouth of the La Plata, sailing through the Cape de Verde Islands, where their appearance caused no slight consternation among the Portuguese. However, as they had more important objects in view, they did not stop to molest any of the principal towns, only landing at quiet bays to procure a fresh supply of water, and to obtain fruit and vegetables, which in those days, when ships only carried salt provisions, were absolutely necessary to preserve the crews in health. All were charmed with the beauty and fertility of these islands, which were veritable gardens of tropical fruits, and they left these seas with regret.
The fleet reached the La Plata in safety, but made no long stay there; for the extreme shallowness of the water, and the frequency and abundance of the shoals in the river, made the admiral fear for the safety of his ships; and accordingly, after a few days' rest, the anchors were weighed and the fleet proceeded down the coast. For some time they sailed without adventure, save that once or twice, in the storms they encountered, one or other of the ships were separated from the rest.
After several weeks' sailing, they put into the Bay of Saint Julian, on the coast of Patagonia. Here the crews landed to obtain water. Soon the natives came down to meet them. These were tall, active men, but yet far from being the giants which the Spaniards had represented them, few of them being taller than a tall Englishman. They were dressed in the scantiest clothing--the men wearing a short apron made of skin, with another skin as a mantle over one shoulder; the women wearing a kind of petticoat, made of soft skin. The men carried bows and arrows and spears, and were painted strangely--one half the head and body being painted white, the other black. Their demeanor was perfectly friendly, and Captain Drake, fearing no harm, walked some distance inland, and many of those not engaged in getting water into the boats also strolled away from the shore.
Among those who rambled farthest were Ned and Tom Tressilis, together with another gentleman adventurer, named Arbuckle. When they left Captain Francis, the armorer, who had brought a bow on shore with him, was showing the natives how much farther our English bow could carry than the native weapon.
Wondering what the country was like beyond the hills, the little party ascended the slope. Just as they reached the top, they heard a shout. Looking back, they saw that all was confusion.
The string of the armorer's bow had snapped, and the natives, knowing nothing of guns, believed that the party were now unarmed. As the armorer was restringing his bow, one of the natives shot an arrow at him, and he fell, mortally wounded. One standing near now raised his arquebus; but before he could fire, he too was pierced by two arrows, and fell dead. The admiral himself caught up the arquebus, and shot the man who had first fired.
The little party on the hill had been struck with amazement and consternation at the sudden outburst, and were recalled to a sense of their danger by the whiz of an arrow, which struck Master Arbuckle in the heart; and at the same moment a dozen of the savages made their appearance, from among the trees below them. Seeing the deadliness of their aim, and that he and Tom would be shot down at once, before they could get to close quarters, Ned turned to fly.
"Quick, Tom, for your life!"
Fortunately, they stood on the very top of the ascent, so that a single bound backwards took them out of sight and range of their enemies. There was a wood a few hundred yards inland, apparently of great extent, and towards this the lads ran at the top of their speed. The savages had to climb the hill and, when they reached its crest, the fugitives were out of bow-shot range.
A yell broke from them as they saw the lads, but these had made the best use of their time, and reached the wood some two hundred yards ahead of their pursuers. Ned dashed into the undergrowth and tore his way through it, Tom close at his heels. Sometimes they came to open spaces, and here each time Ned changed the direction of their flight, choosing spots where they could take to the underwood without showing any sign, such as broken boughs, of their entrance.
After an hour's running the yells and shouts, which had at first seemed close behind, gradually lessened, and were now but faintly heard. Then, utterly exhausted, the lads threw themselves on the ground. In a few minutes, however, Ned rose again.
"Come, Tom," he said, "we must keep on. These fellows will trace us with the sagacity of dogs; but, clever as they may be, it takes time to follow a track. We must keep on now. When it gets dark, which will be in another hour or so, they will be able to follow us no longer, and then we can take it easily."
"Do as you think best, Ned. You are accustomed to this kind of thing."
Without another word they started off at a run again, keeping as nearly as they could a straight course; for Ned's experience in forest life enabled him to do this, when one unused to woodcraft would have lost all idea of direction. The fact, however, that the mosses grew on the side of the trees looking east, was guide enough for him; for he knew that the warm breezes from the sea would attract them, while the colder inland winds would have an opposite effect.
Just as it was getting dark they emerged from the wood, and could see, stretching far before them, an undulating and almost treeless country.
"Fortunately there has been no rain for some time, and the ground is as hard as iron," Ned said. "On the damp soil under the trees they will track our steps, but we shall leave no marks here; and in the morning, when they trace us to this spot, they will be at fault."
So saying, he struck off across the country. For some hours they walked, the moon being high and enabling them to make their way without difficulty. At last they came upon a clump of bushes, and here Ned proposed a halt. Tom was perfectly ready, for they had now walked and run for many hours, and both were thoroughly fatigued; for after so long a voyage, in a small ship, they were out of condition for a long journey on foot.
"The first thing to do is to light a fire," Ned said; "for it is bitterly cold."
"But how do you mean to light it?"
"I have flint and steel in my pouch," Ned said, "and a flask of powder, for priming my pistols, in my sash here. It is a pity, indeed, we did not put our pistols into our belts when we came ashore. But even if I had not had the flint and steel, I could have made a fire by rubbing two dead sticks together. You forget, I have lived among savages for a year."
"You don't think that it is dangerous to light a fire?"
"Not in the least. It was dark when we left the wood, and they must have halted on our track, far back among the trees, to follow it up by daylight. Besides, we have walked five hours since then, and must be twenty miles away, and we have crossed five or six hills. Find a few dead sticks and I will pull a handful or two of dried grass. We will soon have a fire."
Ned made a little pile of dried grass, scooped out a slight depression at the top, and placed a dead leaf in it. On this he poured a few grains of powder, added a few blades of dried grass, and then set to work with his flint and steel. After a blow or two, a spark fell into the powder. It blazed up, igniting the blades of grass and the leaf, and in a minute the little pile was in a blaze. Dried twigs, and then larger sticks were added, and soon a bright fire burned up.
"Throw on some of the green bush," Ned said. "We do not want a blaze, for although we have thrown out the fellows in pursuit of us, there may be others about."
"And now, Ned," Tom said, after sitting for some time gazing into the red fire, "what on earth are we to do next?"
"That is a question more easily asked than answered," Ned said, cheerfully. "We have saved our skins for the present, now we have got to think out what is the best course to pursue."
"I don't see any way to get back to the ship," Tom said, after a long pause. "Do you?"
"No," Ned replied. "I don't, Tom. These savages know that they have cut us off, and will be on the watch, you may be sure. They shoot so straight, with those little bows and arrows of theirs, that we should be killed without the least chance of ever getting to close quarters. Besides, the admiral will doubtless believe that we have been slain, and will sail away. We may be sure that he beat off the fellows who were attacking him, but they will all take to the woods, and he would never be able to get any distance among the trees. Besides, he would give up all hope of finding us there. As to our getting back through the wood, swarming with savages, it seems to me hopeless."
"Then whatever is to become of us?" Tom asked, hopelessly.
"Well, the lookout is not bright," Ned said thoughtfully, "but there is a chance for us. We may keep ourselves by killing wild animals, and by pushing inland we may come upon some people less treacherous and bloody than those savages by the seashore. If so, we might hunt and live with them."
Tom groaned.
"I am not sure that I would not rather be killed at once, than go on living like a savage."
"The life is not such a bad one," Ned said. "I tried it once, and although the negroes and Indians of Porto Rico were certainly a very different people to these savages, still the life led on these great plains and hills, abounding with game, is more lively than being cooped up in a wood, as I was then. Besides, I don't mean that we should be here always. I propose that we try and cross the continent. It is not so very wide here, and we are nearly in a line with Lima. The admiral means to go on there, and expects a rich booty. He may be months before he gets round the Horn, and if we could manage to be there when he arrives, we should be rescued. If not, and I own that I have not much hope of it, we could at least go down to Lima some time or other. I can talk Spanish now very fairly, and we shall have such a lot of adventures to tell that, even if they do not take us for Spanish sailors, as we can try to feign, they will not be likely to put us to death. They would do so if we were taken in arms as buccaneers; but, coming in peaceably, we might be kindly treated. At any rate, if we get on well with the Indians we shall have the choice of making, some day or other, for the Spanish settlements on the west coast; but that is all in the distance. The first thing will be to get our living, somehow; the second to get further inland; the third to make friends with the first band of natives we meet. And now, the best thing to do is to go off to sleep. I shall not be many minutes, I can tell you."
Strange as was the situation, and many the perils that threatened them, both were in a few minutes fast asleep. The sun was rising above the hills when, with a start, they awoke and at once sprang to their feet, and instinctively looked round in search of approaching danger. All was, however, quiet. Some herds of deer grazed in the distance, but no other living creature was visible.
Then they turned their eyes upon each other, and burst into a simultaneous shout of laughter. Their clothes were torn literally into rags, by the bushes through which they had forced their way; while their faces were scratched, and stained with blood, from the same cause.
"The first thing to be done," Ned said, when the laugh was over, "is to look for a couple of long springy saplings, and to make bows and arrows. Of course they will not carry far, but we might knock down any small game we come across."
Both lads were good shots with a bow, for in those days, although firearms were coming in, all Englishmen were still trained in the use of the bow.
"But what about strings?" Tom asked.
"I will cut four thin strips from my belt," Ned said. "Each pair, tied together, will make a string for a five-foot bow, and will be fully strong enough for any weapon we shall be able to make."
After an hour's walk, they came to a small grove of trees growing in a hollow. These were of several species and, trying the branches, they found one kind which was at once strong and flexible. With their hangers, or short swords, they cut down a small sapling of some four inches in diameter, split it up, pared each half down, and manufactured two bows; which were rough, indeed, but sufficiently strong to send an arrow a considerable distance. They then made each a dozen shafts, pointed and notched them. Without feathers, or metal points, these could not fly straight to any distance; but they had no thought of long-range shooting.
"Now," Ned said, "we will go back to that bare space of rock we passed, a hundred yards back. There were dozens of little lizards running about there, it will be hard if we cannot knock some over."
"Are they good to eat?" Tom asked.
"I have no doubt they are," Ned said. "As a rule, everything is more or less good to eat. Some things may be nicer than others, but hardly anything is poisonous. I have eaten snakes, over and over again, and very good they are. I have been keeping a lookout for them, ever since we started this morning."
When they reached the rock, the lizards all darted off to their cracks and crevices; but Ned and Tom lay down, with their bows bent and arrows in place, and waited quietly. Ere long the lizards popped up their heads again, and began to move about, and the lads now let fly their arrows. Sometimes they hit, sometimes missed, and each shot was followed by the disappearance of the lizards; but with patience they found, by the end of an hour, that they had shot a dozen, which was sufficient for an ample meal for them.
"How will you cook them, Ned?"
"Skin them as if they were eels, and then roast them on a stick."
"I am more thirsty than hungry," Tom said.
"Yes, and from the look of the country, water must be scarce. However, as long as we can shoot lizards and birds, we can drink their blood."
The fire was soon lighted, and the lizards cooked. They tasted like little birds, their flesh being tender and sweet.
"Now we had better be proceeding," Ned said, when they had finished their meal. "We have an unknown country to explore and, if we ever get across, we shall have materials for yarns for the rest of our lives."
"Well, Ned, I must say you are a capital fellow to get into a scrape with. You got Gerald and me out of one, and if anyone could get through this, I am sure you could do so. Gerald told me that he always relied upon you, and found you always right. You may be sure that I will do the same. So I appoint you captain general of this expedition, and promise to obey all orders, unquestioningly."
"Well, my first order is," Ned said, laughing, "that we each make a good pike. The wood we made our bows from will do capitally, and we can harden the points in the fire. We may meet some wild beasts, and a good, strong six-foot pike would be better than our swords."
Two hours' work completed the new weapons, and with their bows slung at their backs, and using their pikes as walking staves, they again set out on their journey across the continent.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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11
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: The Marvel of Fire.
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"What are those--natives?" exclaimed Tom suddenly.
Ned looked steadily at them for some time.
"No, I think they are great birds. The ostrich abounds in these plains; no doubt they are ostriches."
"I suppose it is of no use our chasing them?"
"Not a bit. They can run faster than a horse can gallop."
During the day's walk, they saw vast numbers of deer of various kinds; but as they were sure that these would not allow them to approach, they did not alter their course, which was, as nearly as they could calculate by the sun, due west. The sun was warm during the day, but all the higher hilltops were covered with snow.
"If the worst comes to the worst," Ned said, "we must go up and get some snow. We can make a big ball of it, and bring it down with us in one of our sashes. But I should think there must be some stream, somewhere about. The snow must melt; besides, these great herds of deer must drink somewhere."
Late in the afternoon they came on the crest of a ridge.
"There," Ned said, pointing to a valley in which were a number of trees. "We shall find water there, or I am mistaken."
An hour's tramp brought them to the valley. Through this a stream ran between steep banks. They followed it for half a mile, and then came to a spot where the banks sloped away. Here the ground was trampled with many feet, and the edge of the stream was trodden into mud.
"Hurrah, Tom! Here is meat, and drink, too. It is hard if we do not kill something or other here. Look at that clump of bushes, where the bank rises. If we hide there, the deer will almost touch us as they pass to water; and we are sure to be able to shoot them, even with these bows and arrows.
"But first of all, for a drink. Then we will cross the stream, and make a camping ground under the trees opposite."
The stream was but waist deep, but very cold, for it was composed of snow water.
"Shall we light a fire, Ned? It might frighten the deer."
"No, I think it will attract them," Ned said. "They are most inquisitive creatures, and are always attracted by anything strange."
A fire was soon lighted and, after it got quite dark, they piled up dry wood upon it, recrossed the river, and took their places in the bushes. An hour passed, and then they heard a deep sound. In a minute or two the leading ranks of a great herd of deer appeared on the rise, and stood looking wonderingly at the fire. For some little time they halted; and then, pushed forward by those behind, and urged by their own curiosity, they advanced step by step, with their eyes fixed on the strange sight. So crowded were they that as they advanced they seemed a compact mass, those outside coming along close to the bushes in which the boys lay.
Silently these raised their bows, bent them to the full strain, and each launched an arrow. The deer were not five feet from them, and two stags fell, pierced through and through. They leaped to their feet again, but the boys had dashed out with their swords in hand, and in an instant had cut them down.
There was a wild rush on the part of the herd, a sound of feet almost like thunder, and then the boys stood alone, by the side of the two deer they had killed. They were small, the two together not weighing more than a good-sized sheep.
The boys lifted them on their shoulders, rejoicing, and waded across the stream. One they hung up to the branch of a tree. The other they skinned and cut up, and were soon busy roasting pieces of its flesh over the fire.
They had just finished an abundant meal when they heard a roar at a short distance, which brought them to their feet in a moment. Ned seized his pike, and faced the direction from which the sound had come.
"Throw on fresh sticks, Tom. All animals fear fire."
A bright blaze soon lit up the wood.
"Now, Tom, do you climb the tree. I will give you the pieces of meat up, and then do you lift the other stag to a higher branch. I don't suppose the brute can climb, but he may be able to do so. At any rate, we will sleep in the tree, and keep watch and ward."
As soon as Tom had followed these instructions, Ned handed him up the bows and arrows and spears, and then clambered up beside him. As the fire again burned low, an animal was seen to approach, cautiously.
"A lion!" whispered Tom.
"I don't think that he is as big as a lion," Ned said, "but he certainly looks like one. A female, I suppose, as it has got no mane."
Of course the lads did not know, nor indeed did anyone else, at that time, that the lion is not a native of America. The animal before them was what is now called the South American lion, or puma.
The creature walked round and round the fire, snuffing; and then, with an angry roar, raised itself on its hind legs and scratched at the trunk of the tree. Several times it repeated this performance; and then, with another roar, walked away into the darkness.
"Thank goodness it can't climb!" Ned said. "I expect, with our spears and swords, we could have beaten it back if it had tried; still, it is just as well not to have had to do it. Besides, now we can both go to sleep. Let us get well up the tree, so that if anything that can climb should come, it will fall to at the deer to begin with. That will be certain to wake us."
They soon made themselves as comfortable as they could in crutches of the tree, tied themselves with their sashes to a bough to prevent a fall, and were soon asleep.
The next day they rested in the wood, made fresh bowstrings from the twisted gut of the deer, cut the skins up into long strips, thereby obtaining a hundred feet of strong cord, which Ned thought might be useful for snares. Here, too, they shot several birds, which they roasted, and from whose feathers, tied on with a thread-like fiber, they further improved their arrows. They collected a good many pieces of fiber for further use; for, as Tom said, when they got on to rock again they would be sure to find some splinters of stone, which they could fasten to the arrows for points; and would be then able to do good execution, even at a distance.
They cut a number of strips of flesh off the deer, and hung them in the smoke of the fire; by which means they calculated that they could keep for some days, and could be eaten without being cooked; which might be an advantage, as they feared that the odor of cooking might attract the attention of wandering Indians.
The following morning they again started, keeping their backs, as before, to the sun.
"Look at these creatures," Tom said suddenly, as a herd of animals dashed by at a short distance. "They do not look like deer."
"No, they look more like sheep or goats, but they have much longer legs. I wonder what they can be!"
During the day's journey they came across no water, and by the end of the tramp were much exhausted.
"We will not make a fire tonight," Ned said. "We must be careful of our powder. I don't want to be driven to use sticks for getting fire. It is a long and tedious business. We will be up at daybreak tomorrow, and will push on till we find water. We will content ourselves, for tonight, with a bit of this smoked venison."
They found it dry work, eating this without water; and soon desisted, gathered some grass to make a bed, and were asleep a short time after it became dark. They were now in an open district, not having seen a tree since they started in the morning, and they had therefore less fear of being disturbed by wild beasts. They had, indeed, talked of keeping watch by turns; but without a fire, they felt that this would be dull work; and would moreover be of little avail, as in the darkness the stealthy tread of a lion would not be heard, and they would therefore be attacked as suddenly as if no watch had been kept. If he should announce his coming by a roar, both would be sure to awake, quickly enough. So, lying down close together, with their spears at hand, they were soon asleep, with the happy carelessness of danger peculiar to youth.
With the first streak of daybreak, they were up and on their way. Until midday they came upon no water, their only excitement being the killing of an armadillo. Then they saw a few bushes in a hollow and, making towards it, found a small pool of water. After a hearty drink, leaves and sticks were collected, a fire made, and slices of the smoked deer's meat were soon broiling over it.
"This is jolly," Tom said. "I should not mind how long I tramped, if we could always find water."
"And have venison to eat with it," Ned added, laughing. "We have got a stock to last a week, that is a comfort, and this armadillo will do for supper and breakfast. But I don't think we need fear starvation, for these plains swarm with animals; and it is hard if we can't manage to kill one occasionally, somehow or other."
"How far do you think it is across to the other coast?"
"I have not an idea," Ned said. "I don't suppose any Englishman knows, although the Spaniards can of course tell pretty closely. We know that, after rounding Cape Horn, they sail up the coast northwest, or in that direction, so that we have got the base of a triangle to cross; but beyond that, I have no idea whatever.
"Hallo!"
Simultaneously, the two lads caught up their spears and leaped to their feet. Well might they be alarmed, for close by were a party of some twenty Indians who had, quietly and unperceived, come down upon them. They were standing immovable, and their attitude did not betoken hostility. Their eyes were fixed upon them, but their expression betrayed wonder, rather than enmity.
"Lay down your spear again, Tom," Ned said. "Let us receive them as friends."
Dropping their spears, the lads advanced a pace or two, holding out their hands in token of amity. Then slowly, step by step, the Indians advanced.
"They look almost frightened," Ned said. "What can they be staring so fixedly at?"
"It is the fire!" Ned exclaimed. "It is the fire! I do believe they have never seen a fire before."
It was so, as Sir Francis Drake afterwards discovered when landing on the coast. The Patagonian Indians, at that time, were wholly unacquainted with fire.
When the Indians came down, they looked from the fire to the boys, and perceived for the first time that they were creatures of another color from themselves. Then, simultaneously, they threw themselves on their faces.
"They believe that we are gods, or superior beings of some kind," Ned said. "They have clearly never heard of the Spaniards. What good fortune for us! Now, let us reassure them."
So saying, he stooped over the prostrate Indians, patted them on the head and shoulders; and, after some trouble, he succeeded in getting them to rise. Then he motioned them to sit down round the fire, put on some more meat and, when this was cooked, offered a piece to each, Tom and himself setting the example of eating it.
The astonishment of the natives was great. Many of them, with a cry, dropped the meat on finding it hot; and an excited talk went on between them. Presently, however, the man who appeared to be the chief set the example of carefully tasting a piece. He gave an exclamation of satisfaction, and soon all were engaged upon the food.
When they had finished, Ned threw some more sticks on the fire, and as these burst into flames and then consumed away, the amazement of the natives was intense. Ned then made signs to them to pull up some bushes, and cast on the fire. They all set to work with energy, and soon a huge pile was raised on the fire. At first great volumes of white smoke only poured up, then the leaves crackled, and presently a tongue of flame shot up, rising higher and higher, till a great bonfire blazed away, far above their heads. This completed the wonder and awe of the natives, who again prostrated themselves, with every symptom of worship, before the boys. These again raised them, and by signs intimated their intention of accompanying them.
With lively demonstrations of gladness and welcome, the Indians turned to go, pointing to the west as the place where their abode lay.
"We may as well leave our bows and arrows," Ned said. "Their bows are so immensely superior to ours that it will make us sink in their estimation, if they see that our workmanship is so inferior to their own."
The Indians, who were all very tall, splendidly made men, stepped out so rapidly that the lads had the greatest difficulty in keeping up with them, and were sometimes obliged to break into a half trot; seeing which the chief said a word to his followers, and they then proceeded at a more reasonable rate. It was late in the evening before they reached the village, which lay in a wooded hollow at the foot of some lofty hills. The natives gave a loud cry, which at once brought out the entire population, who ran up and gazed, astonished at the newcomers. The chief said a few words, when, with every mark of awe and surprise, all prostrated themselves as the men had before done.
The village was composed of huts, made of sticks closely intertwined, and covered with the skins of animals. The chief led them to a large one, evidently his own, and invited them to enter. They found that it was also lined with skins, and others were laid upon the floor. A pile of skin served as a mat and bed. The chief made signs that he placed this at their disposal, and soon left them to themselves.
In a short time he again drew aside the skin which hung across the entrance, and a squaw advanced, evidently in deep terror, bearing some raw meat. Ned received it graciously, and then said to Tom: "Now we will light a fire, and astonish them again."
So saying, the boys went outside, picked up a dry stick or two, and motioned to the Indians who were gathered round that they needed more. The whole population at once scattered through the grove, and soon a huge pile of dead wood was collected.
The boys now made a little heap of dried leaves, placed a few grains of powder in a hollow at the top and, the flint and steel being put into requisition, the flame soon leaped up, amid a cry of astonishment and awe from the women and children. Wood was now laid on, and soon a great fire was blazing. The men gathered round and sat down, and the women and children gradually approached, and took their places behind them.
The evening was cold and, as the natives felt the grateful heat, fresh exclamations of pleasure broke from them; and gradually a complete babel of tongues broke out. Then the noise was hushed, and a silence of expectation and attention reigned, as the lads cut off slices of the meat and, spitting them on pieces of green wood, held them over the fire. Tom made signs to the chief and those sitting round to fetch meat, and follow their example. Some of the Indian women brought meat, and the men, with sharp stone knives, cut off pieces and stuck them on green sticks, as they had seen the boys do. Then very cautiously they approached the fire, shrinking back and exhibiting signs of alarm at the fierce heat it threw out, as they approached near to it.
The boys, however, reassured them, and they presently set to work. When the meat was roasted, it was cut up and distributed in little bits to the crowd behind, all of whom were eager to taste this wonderful preparation. It was evident, by the exclamations of satisfaction, that the new viand was an immense success; and fresh supplies of meat were soon over the fire.
An incident now occurred which threatened to mar the harmony of the proceedings. A stick breaking, some of the red-hot embers scattered round. One rolled close to Ned's leg, and the lad, with a quick snatch, caught it up and threw it back upon the fire. Seeing this, a native near grasped a glowing fragment which had fallen near him, but dropped it with a shriek of astonishment and pain.
All leaped to their feet, as the man danced in his agony. Some ran away in terror, others instinctively made for their weapons, all gesticulated and yelled.
Ned at once went to the man and patted him assuringly. Then he got him to open his hand, which was really severely burned. Then he got a piece of soft fat and rubbed it gently upon the sore, and then made signs that he wanted something to bandage it with. A woman brought some large fresh leaves, which were evidently good for hurts; and another a soft thong of deer hide. The hand was soon bandaged up and, although the man must still have been in severe pain, he again took his seat, this time at a certain distance from the fire.
This incident greatly increased the awe with which the boys were viewed, as not only had they the power of producing this new and astonishing element, but they could, unhurt, take up pieces of wood turned red by it, which inflicted terrible agony on others.
Before leaving the fire and retiring to their tent, the boys made signs to the chief that it was necessary that someone should be appointed to throw on fresh wood, from time to time, to keep the fire alight. This was hardly needed, as the whole population were far too excited to think of retiring to bed. After the lads had left they gathered round the fire, and each took delight in throwing on pieces of wood, and in watching them consume; and several times, when they woke during the night, the boys saw, by the bright light streaming in through the slits in the deerskin, that the bonfire was never allowed to wane.
In the morning fresh meat was brought to the boys, together with raw yams and other vegetables. There were now other marvels to be shown. Ned had learned, when with the negroes, how to cook in calabashes; and he now got a gourd from the natives, cut it in half, scooped its contents out, and then filled it with water. From the stream he then got a number of stones, and put them into the fire until they became intensely hot. Then with two sticks he raked them out, and dropped them into the water.
The natives yelled with astonishment as they saw the water fizz and bubble, as the stones were thrown in. More were added until the water boiled. Then the yams, cut into pieces, were dropped in, more hot stones added to keep the water boiling, and when cooked, the yams were taken out. When sufficiently cooled, the boys distributed the pieces among the chiefs, and again the signs of satisfaction showed that cooked vegetables were appreciated. Other yams were then cut up, and laid among the hot embers to bake.
After this the boys took a few half-burned sticks, carried them to another spot, added fresh fuel, and made another fire; and then signed to the natives to do the same. In a short time a dozen fires were blazing, and the whole population were engaged in grilling venison, and in boiling and baking yams. The boys were both good trenchermen, but they were astounded at the quantity of food which the Patagonians disposed of.
By night time the entire stock of meat in the village was exhausted, and the chief motioned to the boys that, in the morning, he should go out with a party to lay in a great stock of venison. To this they made signs that they would accompany the expedition.
While the feasting had been going on, the lads had wandered away with two of the Indian bows and arrows. The bows were much shorter than those to which they were accustomed, and required far less strength to pull. The wood of which the bows were formed was tough and good, and as the boys had both the handiness of sailors and, like all lads of that period, had some knowledge of bow making, they returned to the camp, and obtained two more of the strongest bows in the possession of the natives. They then set to work with their knives and, each taking two bows, cut them up, fitted, and spliced them together.
The originals were but four feet long, the new ones six. The halves of one bow formed the two ends, the middle being made of the other bow, doubled. The pieces were spliced together with deer sinews; and when, after some hours' work, they were completed, the boys found that they were as strong and tough as the best of their home-made bows, and required all their strength to draw them to the ear.
The arrows were now too short, but upon making signs to the natives that they wanted wood for arrows, a stock of dried wood, carefully prepared, was at once given them, and of these they made some arrows of the regulation cloth-yard length. The feathers, fastened on with the sinews of some small animals, were stripped from the Indian arrows and fastened on, as were the sharp-pointed stones which formed their heads; and on making a trial, the lads found that they could shoot as far and as straight as with their own familiar weapons.
"We can reckon on killing a stag, if he will stand still, at a hundred and fifty yards," Ned said, "or running, at a hundred. Don't you think so?"
"Well, six times out of seven we ought to, at any rate," Tom replied; "or our Devonshire archership has deserted us."
When they heard, therefore, that there was to be a hunt upon the following day, they felt that they had another surprise for the natives, whose short bows and arrows were of little use at a greater distance than fifty yards, although up to that distance deadly weapons in their hands.
|
{
"id": "19206"
}
|
12
|
: Across a Continent.
|
The work upon which the boys were engaged passed unnoticed by the Indians, who were too much absorbed by the enjoyment of the new discovery to pay any attention to other matters. The bows and arrows had been given to them, as anything else in camp for which they had a fancy would have been given; but beyond that, none had observed what was being done.
There were, then, many exclamations of astonishment among them, when Ned and Tom issued from their hut in the morning to join the hunting party, carrying their new weapons. The bows were, of course, unstrung; and Ned handed his to the chief, who viewed it with great curiosity. It was passed from hand to hand, and then returned to the chief. One or two of the Indians said something, and the chief tried its strength. He shook his head. Ned signed to him to string it, but the chief tried in vain, as did several of the strongest of the Indians. Indeed, no man, however powerful, could string an old English bow, unless trained to its use.
When the Indians had given up the attempt as hopeless, the two lads strung their bows without the slightest difficulty, to the intense surprise of the natives. These again took the bows, but failed to bend them even to the length of their own little arrows. The lads then took out their newly-made shafts, and took aim at a young tree, of a foot diameter, standing at about two hundred yards distance; and both sent their arrows quivering into the trunk.
The Indians gave a perfect yell of astonishment.
"It is not much of a mark," Tom said; "Hugh Willoughby, of our village, could hit a white glove at that distance every time; and the fingers of a glove five times out of six. It is the length of the shots, not the accuracy, which astounds these fellows. However, it is good enough to keep up our superiority."
The party now started on their hunt. There was but little difficulty in finding game, for numerous herds could be seen grazing. The task was to get within shot. The boys watched anxiously, to see the course which the Indians would adopt.
First ascertaining which way the wind was blowing, the chief, with ten others, accompanied by the boys, set off to make a circuit, so as to approach one of the herds upwind. When they had reached the point desired, all went down upon their bellies and crawled like snakes, until they reached a clump of low bushes, a quarter of a mile from the herd. Then they lay quiet, waiting for their comrades, whose turn it now was to act.
These, also making a circuit, but in the opposite direction, placed themselves half a mile to windward of the deer, in a long line. Then they advanced toward the herd, making no effort to conceal themselves.
Scarcely had they risen to their feet than the herd winded them. For a minute or two they stood motionless, watching the distant figures; and then, turning, bounded away. The chief uttered an exclamation of disgust, for it was evident at once that, from the direction that they were taking, the herd would not pass, as he hoped, close by the bushes.
The lads, however, were well satisfied; for the line would take them within a hundred and fifty yards. As, in a closely-packed body, they came along, Ned and Tom rose suddenly to their feet, drew their bows to their ears, and launched their arrows. Each had, according to the custom of English archers, stuck two arrows into the ground by the spot where they would stand up; and these they also discharged, before the herd was out of shot. With fair shooting it was impossible to miss so large a mark, and five of the little deer rolled over, pierced through by the arrows; while another, hit in a less vital spot, carried off the weapon.
The Indians raised a cry of joy and surprise, at shooting which to them appeared marvellous, indeed; and when the others came up showed them, with marks of astonishment, the distance at which the animals had fallen from the bush from which the arrows had been aimed.
Two more beats were made. These were more successful, the herds passing close to the places of concealment, and upon each occasion ten stags fell. This was considered sufficient.
The animals were not all of one kind. One herd was composed of deer far larger than, and as heavy as good-sized sheep; while the others were considerably smaller, and the party had as much as their united efforts--except those of Ned and Tom, whose offer to assist was peremptorily declined--could drag back to the village, where the feasting was at once renewed.
The lads, when the natives had skinned the deer, took some of the smaller and finer skins, intending to dry them; but the natives, seeing their intention, brought them a number of the same kind, which were already well cured and beautifully supple. Fashioning needles from small pieces of bone, with sinews for thread, and using their own tattered clothes as patterns, the two lads set to work; and by the following evening had manufactured doublets and trunks of deerskin, which were a vast improvement upon their late ragged apparel; and had, at a short distance, the appearance of being made of a bright brownish-yellow cloth.
By this time the Indians had become quite accustomed to them. The men, and sometimes even the women, came to the hut and sat down and tried to talk with them. The boys did their best to learn, asking the name of every article, and repeating it until they had thoroughly learned it, the Indians applauding like children when they attained the right pronunciation.
The next morning they saw a young Indian starting alone, with his bow and arrow. Anxious to see how he was going to proceed, by himself, the boys asked if they might accompany him. He assented, and together they started off.
After an hour's walking, they arrived at an eminence from which an extensive view could be obtained. Here their companion motioned to them to lie down and watch his proceedings. They did so, and saw him make a wide circuit, and work up towards the herd of deer.
"They will be off long before he can get within bow shot," Tom said. "Look, they are getting fidgety already. They scent danger, and he is four hundred yards away. They will be off in a minute.
"Look, what on earth is he doing?"
The Indian was lying on his back, his body being almost concealed by the grass, which was a foot high. In the air he waved his legs to and fro, twisting and twining them. The boys could not help laughing at the curious appearance of the two black objects waving slowly about. The herd of deer stood staring stupidly at the spectacle. Then, as if moved by a common impulse of curiosity, they began slowly to approach, in order to investigate more closely this singular phenomenon. Frequently they stopped, but only to continue their advance, which was made with a sort of circling movement, as if to see the object from all sides.
Nearer and nearer they approached, until the leaders were not more than fifty yards away; when the native leaped to his feet, and discharged his arrows with such rapidity, and accuracy, that two of the animals fell before they could dart away out of range.
The lads soon joined the native, and expressed their approval of his skill. Then, while he threw one carcass over his shoulder, they divided the weight of the other between them, and so accompanied him into camp.
The next day Ned and Tom, walking to an eminence near the camp, saw in the distance some ostriches feeding. Returning to the huts, they found the young hunter whom they had accompanied on the preceding day, and beckoned to him to accompany them. When they reached the spot from which the ostriches were visible, they motioned to him to come out and shoot them. He at once nodded.
As they were about to follow him back to camp, for their bows and arrows, he shook his head and signed to them to stay where they were; and going off by himself, returned with his bow and arrow and, to the surprise of the boys, the skin of an ostrich.
To show the lads what he intended to do, he put on the skin, sticking one arm up the long neck, his black legs alone showing. He now imitated the motions of the bird, now stalking along, now picking up bits of grass, and this with such an admirable imitation of nature that Ned and Tom shouted with laughter.
The three then set off together, taking a line which hid them from the view of the ostriches. The Indian at last led them to a small eminence, and signed to them to ascend this, and there to lie down and watch the result. On arriving at their post, they found themselves about a quarter of a mile from the group of great birds.
It seemed a long time before they could see any signs of the native, who had to make a long detour so as to approach the birds upwind. About a hundred and fifty yards from the spot where they were feeding was a clump of bushes, and presently the lads suddenly beheld an ostrich, feeding quietly beside this clump.
"There was no bird near those bushes two minutes ago," Tom said. "It must be the Indian."
Very quietly, and by degrees, the ostrich approached the group. When within four yards of them the ostrich, as if by magic, vanished; and an Indian stood in his place. In another moment his bow twanged, and the ostrich next to him fell over, pierced through with an arrow; while the rest of the flock scattered over the plain, at an immense speed.
Ned and Tom now rose to their feet and ran down the slope to the Indian, who was standing by the dead bird. He pulled out the tail feathers and handed them to them; cut off the head and legs; opened and cleaned the body; and then, putting it on his shoulder, started again for the camp.
For another week they remained in the Indian village, and in that time picked up a good many native words. They then determined that they must be starting on their westward journey. They therefore called upon the chief and explained to him by signs, eked out with a few words, that they must leave him and go towards the setting sun.
The grief of the chief was great, as was that of the tribe, when he communicated the tidings to them. There was great talking among the groups round the fire that night, and Ned saw that some question was being debated, at great length. The next morning the chief and several of the leading men came into their hut, and the chief made a speech, accompanied with great gesticulation. The lads gathered that he was imploring them not to leave them, and pointing out that there would be hostile Indians on the road, who would attack them. Then the chief led them to the fires, and signed that if they went out the tribe would be cold again, and would be unable to cook their food.
Already, indeed, on one occasion after a great feast, the tribe had slept so soundly that all the fires were out before morning, and Ned had been obliged to have recourse to his flint and steel. After this, two fires had been kept constantly burning, night and day. Others were lighted for cooking, but these were tended constantly, and Ned saw that there was little chance of their ever going out together, so long as the tribe remained in the village.
Now, however, he proceeded to show them how to carry fire with them. Taking one blazing stick, and starting out as for a journey, he showed that the fire gradually went out. Then he returned to the fire and took two large pieces, and started, keeping them so crossed that the parts on fire were always in contact. In this way, as he showed them, fire could be kept in for a very long time; and that, if two brands were taken from each fire, there would be little difficulty in keeping fire perpetually.
Finally he showed them how, in case of losing fire in spite of all these precautions, it could be recovered by means of friction. He took two pieces of dried wood; one being very hard grained, and the other much softer. Of the former he cut a stick of about a foot long and an inch round, and pointed at both ends. In the other he made a small hole. Then he unstrung one end of a bowstring, twisted it once round the stick, and strung it again. Then he put one point of the stick in the hole in the other piece of wood, which he laid upon the ground. Round the hole he crumbled into dust some dry fungus. On the upper end of the short stick he placed a flat stone, which he bade one of the natives press with moderate force.
Now, working the bow rapidly backwards and forwards, the stick was spun round and round like a drill. The Indians, who were unable to make out what Ned was doing, watched these proceedings with great attention. When a little smoke began to curl up from the heated wood they understood at once, and shouted with wonder. In a few minutes sparks began to fly from the stick, and as these fell on the dried fungus they rapidly spread. Tom knelt down and blew gently upon them, adding a few dried leaves, and in another minute a bright flame sprang up.
The natives were delighted. They had now means of making fire, and could in future enjoy warmth and cooked food, and their gratitude to the lads was unbounded. Hitherto they had feared that, when these strange white beings departed, they would lose their fires, and return to their former cheerless existence, when the long winter evenings had to be spent in cold and darkness. That evening the chief intimated to his visitors that he, and a portion of the men of the tribe, would accompany them for some distance; the women remaining behind, with the rest of the fighting men as their guard. This decision pleased the young men much, for they could not hope to go far without meeting other tribes; and although, as had been found in the present instance, the gift of fire would be sure to propitiate the Indians; it was probable that they might be attacked on the march, and killed without having an opportunity of explanation. Their friends, however, would have the power of at once explaining, to all comers, the valuable benefits which they could bestow.
During the time that they had been staying in the village, they had further improved their bows by taking them to pieces, fitting the parts more accurately together, and gluing them with glue, prepared by boiling down sinews of animals in a gourd. Then, rebinding them with fine sinews, they found that they were, in all respects, equal to their English weapons. They had now no fear as to their power of maintaining themselves with food on the way, and felt that, even when their new friends should leave them, they would have a fair chance of defending themselves against attack, as their bows would carry more than thrice as far as those of the natives.
The following morning the start was made. The chief and twenty picked warriors accompanied them, together with six young Indians, two of whom carried lighted brands. The others dragged light sleighs, upon which were piled skins and long poles, for making tents at night, for the temperature was exceedingly cold after sundown. The whole village turned out to see the party off, and shouts of farewell, and good wishes, rang in the air.
For the first three days no adventures were met with. The party had no difficulty in killing game sufficient for their needs, and at night they halted at streams or pools. Ned observed, however, that at the last halting place the chief, who had hitherto taken no precaution at night, gave some orders to his followers; four of whom, when the rest laid down to rest, glided off in different directions into the darkness.
Ned pointed to them inquiringly, and the chief intimated that they were now entering the hunting grounds of another tribe. The following day the band kept closely together. A vigilant lookout on the plains was kept up, and no straggling was allowed. They had sufficient meat left over, from their spoils of the day before, to last for the day; and no hunting was necessary.
The next evening, just as they had retired to rest, one of the scouts came in and reported that he heard sounds around, which betokened the presence of man. The calls of animals were heard on the plain; and a herd of deer, which had evidently been disturbed, had darted past at full speed.
The chief now ordered great quantities of dried wood to be thrown into the fire, and a vast blaze soon shot up high, illuminating a circle of a hundred yards in diameter. Advancing to the edge of this circle, the chief held out his arms, to show that he was unarmed; and then shouted, at the top of his voice, to the effect that he invited all within hearing to come forward, in peace. The strange appearance that they saw was a boon, given to the Indian people by two great white beings, who were in his camp; and that, by its aid, there would be no more cold.
Three times he shouted out these words, and then retired to the fire and sat down. Presently from the circle of darkness a number of figures appeared, approaching timidly and with an awe-struck air, until within a short distance of the fire.
Then the chief again rose, and bade them welcome. There were some fifty or sixty of them, but Ned and his friend had no fear of any treachery, for they were evidently under the spell of a sense of amazement greater than that which had been excited among those they first met; and this because they first saw this wonder by night.
When the newcomers had taken their seats, the chief explained to them the qualities of their new discovery. That it made them warm and comfortable their own feelings told them; and on the morrow, when they had meat, he would show them how great were its effects. Then he told them of the dancing water, and how it softened and made delicious the vegetables placed in it. At his command one of his followers took two brands, carried them to a distance, and soon lighted another fire.
During the narrative, the faces of the Indians lighted up with joy; and they cast glances of reverence and gratitude towards the young white men. These, finding that amity was now established, retired to sleep to the little skin tents which had been raised for them; while the Indians remained sitting round the fire, engrossed with its wonders.
The young men slept late next morning, knowing that no move could be made that day. When they came out of the tents, they found that the natives had lost no time. Before daybreak hunting parties had gone out, and a store of game was piled near the fire; or rather fires, for a dozen were now burning, and the strangers were being initiated in the art of cooking by their hosts.
Two days were spent here; and then, after much talk, the tribe at which they had now arrived arranged to escort and pass the boys on to their neighbors, while the first party returned to their village. Ned and Tom were consulted before this matter was settled, and approved of it. It was better that they should be passed on, from tribe to tribe, than that they should be escorted all the way by a guard who would be as strange as themselves to the country, and who would naturally be longing to return to their homes and families.
For some weeks the life led by the travelers resembled that which has been described. Sometimes they waited for a few days at villages, where great festivities were held in their honor The news of their coming, in many cases, preceded them; and they and their convoy were often met at the stream, or other mark which formed the acknowledged boundary between the hunting grounds, by large bodies eager to receive and welcome them.
They had, by this time, made considerable progress in the language, knew all the names of common objects, and could make themselves understood in simple matters. The language of savage people is always simple. Their range of ideas is narrow; their vocabulary very limited, and consequently easily mastered.
Ned knew that, at any time, they might come across people in a state of active warfare with each other; and that his life might depend upon the ability to make himself understood. Consequently he lost no opportunity of picking up the language. On the march Tom and he, instead of walking and talking together, each went with a group of natives; and kept up a conversation, eked out with signs, with them; and consequently they made very considerable progress with the language.
|
{
"id": "19206"
}
|
13
|
: Through the Cordilleras.
|
After three months of steady travel, the country, which had become more and more hilly as they advanced toward the west, assumed a different character. The hills became mountains, and it was clear that they were arriving at a great range running north and south. They had for some time left the broad plains behind them, and game was very scarce. The Indians had of late been more and more disinclined to go far to the west, and the tribe with whom they were now traveling told them that they could go no farther. They signified that beyond the mountains dwelt tribes with whom they were unacquainted, but who were fierce and warlike. One of the party, who had once crossed, said that the people there had fires like those which the white men had taught them to make.
"You see, Tom," Ned said, "they must have been in contact with the Spaniards, or at least with tribes who have learned something from the Spaniards. In that case our supernatural power will be at an end, and our color will be against us, as they will regard us as Spaniards, and so as enemies. At any rate, we must push on and take our chance."
From the Indian they learned that the track lay up a valley before them, that after a day's walking they would have to begin the ascent. Another day's journey would take them to a neck between two peaks, and the passage of this would occupy at least a day. The native described the cold as great here, even in summer, and that in winter it was terrible. Once across the neck, the descent on the other side began.
"There can be no snow in the pass now, Tom; it is late in December, and the hottest time of the year; and although we must be a very great height above the sea, for we have been rising ever since we left the coast, we are not so very far south, and I cannot believe the snow can now lie in the pass. Let us take a good stock of dried meat, a skin for water--we can fill it at the head of the valley--and make our way forward. I do not think the sea can lie very far on the other side of this range of mountains, but at any rate, we must wait no longer. Captain Drake may have passed already, but we may still be in time."
The next morning they bade adieu to their companions, with whom they had been traveling for a fortnight. These, glad again to turn their faces homeward, set off at once; and the lads, shouldering their packs, started up the valley. The scenery was grand in the extreme, and Ned and Tom greatly enjoyed it. Sometimes the sides approached in perpendicular precipices, leaving barely room for the little stream to find its way between their feet; at others it was half a mile wide. When the rocks were not precipitous the sides were clothed with a luxuriant foliage, among which the birds maintained a concert of call and song. So sheltered were they that, high as it was above the sea, the heat was very oppressive; and when they reached the head of the valley, late in the afternoon, they were glad indeed of a bathe in a pool of the stream.
Choosing a spot of ground near the stream, the lads soon made a fire, put their pieces of venison down to roast, and prepared for a quiet evening.
"It seems strange to be alone again, Tom, after so many months with those Indians; who were ever on the watch for every movement and word, as if they were inspired. It is six months, now, since we left the western coast; and one almost seems to forget that one is English. We have picked up something of half a dozen Indian dialects; we can use their weapons almost as well as they can themselves; and as to our skins, they are as brown as that of the darkest of them. The difficulty will be to persuade the people on the other side that we are whites."
"How far do you think the sea lies on the other side of this range of giant mountains?" Tom asked.
"I have no idea," Ned replied, "and I do not suppose that anyone else has. The Spaniards keep all matters connected with this coast a mystery; but I believe that the sea cannot be many days' march beyond the mountains."
For an hour or two they chatted quietly, their thoughts naturally turning again to England, and the scenes of their boyhood.
"Will it be necessary to watch, think you?" Tom asked.
"I think it would be safer, Tom. One never knows. I believe that we are now beyond the range of the natives of the Pampas. They evidently have a fear of approaching the hills; but that only shows that the natives from the other side come down over here. I believe that they were, when the Spaniards landed, peaceable people; quiet and gentle. So at least they are described. But those who take to the mountains must be either escaped slaves, or fugitives from the cruelty of the Spaniards; and even the gentlest man, when driven to desperation, becomes savage and cruel. To these men our white skins would be like a red rag to a bull. They can never have heard of any white people, save the Spaniards; and we need expect little mercy if we fall into their hands. I think we had better watch, turn about. I will take the first watch, for I am not at all sleepy, and my thoughts seem busy tonight, with home."
Tom was soon fast asleep, and Ned sat quietly watching the embers of the fire, occasionally throwing on fresh sticks, until he deemed that nearly half the night was gone. Then he aroused his companion and lay down himself, and was soon fast asleep.
The gray light was just beginning to break when he was aroused by a sudden yell, accompanied by a cry from Tom. He leaped to his feet, just in time to see a crowd of natives rush upon himself and his comrade, discharging as they did so numbers of small arrows, several of which pierced him as he rose to his feet. Before they could grasp their bows, or any other weapons, the natives were upon them. Blows were showered down with heavy clubs and, although the lads made a desperate resistance, they were beaten to the ground in a short time. The natives at once twisted strong thongs round their limbs; and then, dragging them from the fire, sat down themselves and proceeded to roast the remains of the boys' deer meat.
"This is a bad business indeed, Tom," Ned said. "These men doubtless take us for Spaniards. They certainly must belong to the other side of the mountains, for their appearance and language are altogether different to those of the people we have been staying with. These men are much smaller, slighter, and fairer. Runaways though no doubt they are, they seem to have more care about their persons, and to be more civilized in their appearance and weapons, than the savages of the plains."
"What do you think they will do with us, Ned?"
"I have no doubt in the world, Tom, that their intention is either to put us to death with some horrible torture, or to roast us. The Spaniards have taught them these things, if they did not know them before; and in point of atrocities, nothing can possibly exceed those which the Spaniards have inflicted upon them and their fathers."
Whatever were the intentions of the Indians, it was soon evident that there would be some delay in carrying them out. After they had finished their meal, they rose from the fire. Some amused themselves by making arrows from the straight reeds that grew by the stream. Others wandered listlessly about. Some threw themselves upon the ground and slept; while others, coming up to the boys, poured torrents of invective upon them, among which they could distinguish in Spanish the words "dog" and "Spaniard," varying their abuse by violent kicks. As, however, these were given by the naked feet, they did not seriously inconvenience the boys.
"What can they be waiting for?" Tom said. "Why don't they do something if they are going to do it."
"I expect," Ned answered, "that they are waiting for some chief, or for the arrival of some other band, and that we are to be kept for a grand exhibition."
So it proved. Three days passed, and upon the fourth another band, smaller in numbers, joined them. Upon the evening of that day the lads saw that their fate was about to be brought to a crisis. The fire was made up with huge bundles of wood; the natives took their seats around it, with gravity and order; and the boys were led forward by four natives, armed with spears. Then began what was a regular trial. The boys, although they could not understand a word of the language, could yet follow the speeches of the excited orators. One after another arose and told the tale of the treatment that he had experienced. One showed the weals which covered his back. Another held up his arm, from which the hand had been lopped. A third pointed to the places where his ears once had been. Another showed the scar of a hot iron on his arms and legs. Some went through a pantomime, which told its tale of an attack upon some solitary hut, the slaughter of the old and infirm, and the dragging away of the men and women into slavery. Others spoke of long periods of labor, in a bent position, in a mine, under the cruel whip of the taskmaster. All had their tale of barbarity and cruelty to recite and, as each speaker contributed his quota, the anger and excitement of the rest rose.
"Poor devils!" Ned said; "no wonder that they are savage against us. See what they have suffered at the hands of the white men. If we had gone through as much, you may be sure that we should spare none. Our only chance is to make them understand that we are not Spanish; and that, I fear, is beyond all hope."
This speedily proved to be the case. Two or three of the natives who spoke a few words of Spanish came to them, calling them Spanish dogs.
Ned shook his head and said, "Not Spanish."
For all reply the natives pointed to the uncovered portions of their body, pulled back the skins which covered their arms and, pointing to the white flesh, laughed incredulously.
"White men are Spaniards, and Spaniards are white men," Tom groaned, "and that we shall have to die, for the cruelty which the Spaniards have perpetrated, is clear enough.
"Well, Ned, we have had more good fortune than we could have expected. We might have been killed on the day when we landed, and we have spent six jolly months in wandering together, as hunters, on the plain. If we must die, let us behave like Englishmen and Christians. It may be that our lives have not been as good as they should have been; but so far as we know, we have both done our duty; and it may be that, as we die for the faults of others, it may come to be considered as a balance against our own faults."
"We must hope so, Tom. I think we have both done, I won't say our best, but as well as could be expected in so rough a life. We have followed the exhortations of the good chaplain, and have never joined in the riotous ways of the sailors in general. We must trust that the good God will forgive us our sins, and strengthen us to go through this last trial."
While they had been speaking the natives had made an end of their deliberation. Tom was now conducted, by two natives with spears, to a tree; and was securely fastened. Ned, under the guard of the other two, was left by the fire. The tree was situated at a distance of some twenty yards from it, and the natives mostly took their place near the fire. Some scattered among the bushes, and presently reappeared bearing bundles of dry wood. These were laid in order round the tree, at such a distance that the flames would not touch the prisoner, but the heat would gradually roast him to death.
As Ned observed the preparations for the execution of his friend, the sweat stood in great drops on his forehead; and he would have given anything to be able to rush to his assistance, and to die with him. Had his hands been free he would, without hesitation, have snatched up a bow and sent an arrow into Tom's heart, to release him from the lingering death which awaited him; and he would then have stabbed himself with a spear. But while his hands were sufficiently free to move a little, the fastenings were too tight to admit of his carrying out any plan of that sort.
Suddenly an idea struck him, and he began nervously to tug at his fastenings. The natives, when they seized them, had bound them without examining their clothes. It was improbable that men in savage attire could have about them any articles worth appropriating. The knives, indeed, which hung from their belts had been cut off; but these were the only articles which had been touched.
Just as a man approached the fire and, seizing a brand, stooped forward to light the pyre, Ned succeeded in freeing his hands sufficiently to seize the object which he sought. This was his powder flask, which was wrapped in the folds of the cloth round his waist. With little difficulty he succeeded in freeing it and, moving a step closer to the fire, he cast it into the midst of it, at the very moment the man with the lighted brand was approaching Tom. Then he stepped back as far as he could from the fire. The natives on guard over him, not understanding the movement, and thinking he meditated flight, closed around him.
An instant later there was a tremendous explosion. The red hot embers were flaming in all directions, and both Ned and the savages who stood by him were, with many others, struck to the ground. As soon as he was able, Ned struggled up again.
Not a native was in sight. A terrific yell had broken from them at the explosion, which sounded to them like one of the cannons of their Spanish oppressors; and, smarting with the wounds simultaneously made by the hot brands, each, without a moment's thought, had taken to his heels. Tom gave a shout of exultation, as Ned rose. The latter at once stooped and, with difficulty, picked up one of the still blazing brands, and hurried towards the tree.
"If these fellows will remain away for a couple of minutes, Tom, you shall be free," he said, "and I don't think they will get over their scare as quickly as that."
So saying, he applied the end of the burning brand to the dry withes with which Tom was bound to the tree. These at once took fire and flared up, and the bands fell to the ground.
"Now, Tom, do me the same service."
This was quickly rendered, and the lads stood free.
"Now, let us get our weapons."
A short search revealed to them their bows, laid carefully aside, while the ground was scattered with the arms which the natives, in their panic, had dropped.
"Pick them all up, Tom, and toss them on the fire. We will take the sting out of the snake, in case it tries to attack us again."
In a minute or two a score of bows, spears, and others weapons were thrown on the fire; and the boys then, leaving the place which had so nearly proved fatal to them, took their way up the mountain side. It was a long pull, the more so that they had the food, water, and large skins for protection from the night air to carry. Steadily as they kept on, with only an occasional halt for breath, it was late before they emerged from the forest and stood upon a plateau between two lofty hills. This was bare and treeless, and the keen wind made them shiver, as they met it.
"We will creep among the trees, Tom; and be off at daybreak, tomorrow. However long the journey, we must get across the pass before we sleep, for the cold there would be terrible."
A little way down the crest it was so warm that they needed no fire, while a hundred feet higher, exposed to the wind from the snow-covered peaks, the cold was intense. They kept careful watch, but the night passed quietly. The next morning they were on foot, as soon as the voices of the birds proclaimed the approach of day. As they emerged from the shelter of the trees they threw their deer skins round them, to act as cloaks, and stepped out at their best pace. The dawn of day was yet faint in the east; the stars burning bright as lamps overhead, in the clear thin air; and the cold was so great that it almost stopped their breathing.
Half an hour later the scene had changed altogether. The sun had risen, and the air felt warm. The many peaks on either side glistened in the flood of bright light. The walking was easy, indeed, after the climb of the previous day; and their burdens were much lightened by their consumption of food and water. The pass was of irregular width, sometimes but a hundred yards, sometimes fully a mile across. Long habit and practice with the Indians had immensely improved their walking powers and, with long elastic strides, they put mile after mile behind them. Long before the sun was at its highest a little stream ran beside them, and they saw, by the course of its waters, that they had passed the highest part of the pass through the Cordilleras.
Three hours later they suddenly emerged, from a part where the hills approached nearer on either side than they had done during the day's walk, and a mighty landscape opened before and below them. The boys gave, simultaneously, a loud shout of joy; and then dropped on their knees, in thanks to God, for far away in the distance was a dark level blue line, and they knew the ocean was before them.
"How far off should you say it was, Ned?" Tom asked, when they had recovered a little from their first outburst of joy.
"A long way off," Ned said. "I suppose we must be fifteen thousand feet above it, and even in this transparent air it looks an immense distance away. I should say it must be a hundred miles."
"That's nothing!" Tom said. "We could do it in two days, in three easily."
"Yes, supposing we had no interruption and a straight road," Ned said. "But we must not count our chickens yet. This vast forest which we see contains tribes of natives, bitterly hostile to the white man, maddened by the cruelties of the Spaniards, who enslave them and treat them worse than dogs. Even when we reach the sea, we may be a hundred or two hundred miles from a large Spanish town; and however great the distance, we must accomplish it, as it is only at large towns that Captain Drake is likely to touch."
"Well, let us be moving," Tom said. "I am strong for some hours' walking yet, and every day will take us nearer to the sea."
"We need not carry our deer skins any farther," Ned said, throwing his down. "We shall be sweltering under the heat tomorrow, below there."
Even before they halted for the night, the vegetation had assumed a tropical character, for they had already descended some five thousand feet.
"I wish we could contrive to make a fire tonight," Ned said.
"Why?" Tom asked. "I am bathed in perspiration, now."
"We shall not want it for heat, but the chances are that there are wild beasts of all sorts in this forest."
Ned's premises turned out correct, for scarcely had night fallen when they heard deep roarings, and lost no time in ascending a tree, and making themselves fast there, before they went to sleep.
In the morning they proceeded upon their journey. After walking a couple of hours, Ned laid his arm upon Tom's shoulder.
"Hush!" he whispered. "Look there."
Through the trees, at a short distance off, could be seen a stag. He was standing, gazing intently at a tree, and did not appear to have heard their approach.
"What can he be up to?" Tom whispered. "He must have heard us."
"He seems paralyzed," Ned said. "Don't you see how he is trembling? There must be some wild beast in the tree."
Both gazed attentively at the tree, but could see nothing to account for the attitude of the deer.
"Wild beast or no," Ned said, "he will do for our dinner."
So saying, he unslung his bow, and fitted an arrow. There was a sharp twang, and the deer rolled over, struck to the heart. There was no movement in the tree, but Ned placed another arrow in place. Tom had done the same.
They stood silent for a few minutes, but all was still.
"Keep your eyes on the tree and advance slowly," Ned said. "Have your sword ready in case of need. I cannot help thinking there is something there, though what it is I can't make out."
Slowly, and with the greatest caution, they approached the tree. All was perfectly still.
"No beast big enough to hurt us can be up there," Ned said at last. "None of the branches are thick enough to hide him.
"Now for the stag."
Ned bent over the carcass of the deer, which lay a few feet only from the tree. Then suddenly there was a rapid movement among the creepers which embraced the trunk, something swept between Ned and Tom, knocking the latter to the ground, while a cry of alarm and astonishment rose from Ned.
Confused and surprised, Tom sprang to his feet, instinctively drawing his sword as he did so. For a moment he stood, paralyzed with horror. A gigantic snake had wound its coils round Ned's body. Its head towered above his, while its eyes flashed menacingly, and its tongue vibrated with a hissing sound as it gazed at Tom. Its tail was wound round the trunk of the tree. Ned was powerless, for his arms were pinioned to his side by the coils of the reptile.
It was but a moment that Tom stood appalled. He knew that, at any instant, by the tightening of its folds the great boa could crush every bone of Ned's body; while the very closeness of its embrace rendered it impossible for him to strike at it, for fear of injuring its captor. There was not an instant to be lost. Already the coils were tightening, and a hoarse cry broke from Ned.
With a rapid spring Tom leaped beyond his friend, and with a blow, delivered with all his strength, severed the portion of the tail coiled round the tree from the rest of the body.
Unknowingly, he had taken the only course to save Ned's life. Had he, as his first impulse had been, struck at the head as it raised itself above that of Ned, the convulsion of the rest of the body would probably have crushed the life out of him; but by cutting off the tail, he separated the body from the tree which formed the fulcrum upon which it acted. As swiftly as they had enclosed him the coils fell from Ned, a writhing mass upon the ground; and a second blow from Tom's sword severed the head from the body. Even now, the folds writhed and twisted like an injured worm; but Tom struck, and struck, until the fragments lay, with only a slight quivering motion in them, on the ground.
Then Tom, throwing down his cutlass, raised Ned; who, upon being released from the embrace of the boa, had fallen senseless. Alarmed as Tom was at his comrade's insensibility, he yet felt that it was the shock, and the revulsion of feeling which caused it, and not any serious injury which he had received. No bones had been heard to crack and, although the compression had been severe, Tom did not think that any serious injury had been inflicted.
He dashed some water from the skins over Ned's face, rubbed his hands, spoke to him in a loud voice, and ere long had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes.
"Thank God!" Tom exclaimed fervently. "There, don't move, Ned. Take it quietly. It's all right now. There, drink a little water."
He poured a few drops down Ned's throat, and the latter, whose eyes had before had a dazed and wondering expression, suddenly sat up and strove to draw his sword.
"Gently, Ned, gently. The snake is dead, chopped up into pieces. It was a near shave, Ned."
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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14
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: On the Pacific Coast.
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"A close shave, indeed," Ned said, raising himself with difficulty from the ground. "Another moment, and I think my ribs would have given in. It seemed as if all the blood in my body had rushed to my head."
"Do you feel badly hurt?" Tom asked, anxiously.
"No," Ned said, feeling himself all over. "Horribly bruised, but nothing broken. To think of our not seeing that monstrous boa!
"I don't think," he continued, "that I can walk any farther today. I feel shaken all over."
"Then we will camp where we are," Tom said cheerfully. "We have got a stag, and he will last us for some days, if necessary. There is plenty of fruit to be picked in the forest, and on this mountain side we are sure to be able to find water, within a short distance."
Lighting a fire, the deer was soon cut up, and the lads prepared to spend a quiet day; which was all the more welcome inasmuch as, for the last three weeks, they had traveled without intermission. The next day Ned declared himself well enough to proceed on his journey; but his friend persuaded him to stop for another day.
Late in the evening Ned exclaimed, "What is that, Tom, behind that tree?"
Tom seized his bow, and leaped to his feet.
"I see nothing," he said.
"It was either a native, or a gigantic monkey. I saw him, quite plainly, glide along behind the tree."
Tom advanced cautiously, but on reaching the tree he found nothing.
"You are sure you were not mistaken?" he asked.
"Quite certain," Ned said. "We have seen enough of Indians, by this time, to know them. We must be on the lookout, tonight. The natives on this side are not like those beyond the mountains. They have been so horribly ill treated, by the Spaniards, that they must hate any white face; and would kill us without hesitation, if they got a chance. We shall have difficulty with the Spaniards, when we fall into their hands; but they will at least be more reasonable than these savages."
All night they kept up their fire, and sat up by turns, on watch. Several times they thought that they heard slight movements, among the fallen leaves and twigs; but these might have been caused by any prowling beast. Once or twice they fancied that they detected forms, moving cautiously just beyond the range of the firelight; but they could not be certain that it was so.
Just as morning was breaking, Ned sprang to his feet.
"Wake up, Tom!" he exclaimed; "we are attacked;" and as he spoke, an arrow quivered in the tree just over his head.
They had already discussed whether it would be better to remain, if attacked, in the light of the fire, or to retreat into the shadow; and concluding that the eyes of the natives would be more accustomed to see in darkness than their own, they had determined to stay by the fire, throwing themselves down on their faces; and to keep the natives at bay beyond the circle of the light of the flames, till daylight. They had, in readiness, heaped a great pile of brushwood; and this they now threw upon the fire, making a huge pyramid of flame, which lit the wood around for a circle of sixty yards. As the light leaped up, Ned discharged an arrow at a native, whom he saw within the circle of light; and a shrill cry proclaimed that it had reached its mark.
There was silence for a while in the dark forest and, each moment that passed, the daylight became stronger and stronger.
"In ten minutes we shall be able to move on," Ned said; "and in the daylight, I think that the longer range of our bows will enable us to keep them off. The question is, how many of them are there?"
A very short time sufficed to show that the number of the savages was large; for shrill cries were heard, answering each other, in the circle around them; and numbers of black figures could be seen, hanging about the trees in the distance.
"I don't like the look of things, Ned," Tom said. "It is all very well. We may shoot a good many before they reach us, and in the open no doubt we might keep them off. But by taking advantage of the trees, they will be able to get within range of their weapons; and at short distances, they are just as effective as are our bows."
As soon as it was broad daylight, the lads started through the forest, keeping up a running fight with the natives.
"It is clear," Tom said, "we cannot stand this much longer. We must take to a tree."
They were on the point of climbing, when Ned exclaimed: "Listen! I can hear the sound of bells."
Listening intently, they could make out the sound of little bells, such as are carried by horses or mules.
"It must be a train to one of the mines. If we can reach that, we shall be safe."
Laying aside all further thought of fighting, the boys now ran, at headlong pace, in the direction of the sounds. The natives, who were far fleeter of foot, gained fast upon them; and the arrows were flying round them, and several had inflicted slight wounds, when they heard ahead of them the cry of: "Soldiers on guard. The natives are at hand. Fire in the bushes."
The boys threw themselves upon their faces as, from the thickets ahead, a volley of musketry was heard.
"Load again," was the order, in Spanish. "These black rascals must be strong, indeed, to advance to attack us with so much noise."
Crawling forward cautiously, Ned exclaimed, in Spanish: "Do not fire, senors. We are two Spaniards who have been carried away from the settlements, and have for long been prisoners among the natives."
A cry of surprise was heard, and then the Spaniard in command called them to advance, fearlessly. This they did. Fortunately they had, long before, settled upon the story that they would tell, when they arrived among the Spaniards. To have owned themselves Englishmen, and as belonging to the dreaded buccaneers, would have been to ensure their imprisonment, if not execution. The imperfection of Ned's Spanish, and the fact that Tom was quite ignorant of the language, rendered it difficult for them to pass as Spaniards. But they thought that, by giving out that they had been carried away in childhood--Tom at an earlier age than Ned--their ignorance of the language would be accounted for.
It had been a struggle, with both of them, to decide upon telling an untruth. This is a point upon which differences of opinion must always arise. Some will assert that under no circumstances can a falsehood be justified. Others will say that to deceive an enemy in war, or to save life, deceit is justifiable, especially when that deceit injures no one. It was only after very great hesitation that the boys had overcome their natural instincts and teaching, and agreed to conceal their nationality under false colors Ned, indeed, held out for a long time; but Tom had cited many examples, from ancient and modern history, showing that people of all nations had, to deceive an enemy, adopted such a course; and that to throw away their lives, rather than tell a falsehood which could hurt no one, would be an act of folly. Both, however, determined that, should it become necessary to keep up their character as Spaniards by pretending to be true Catholics, they would disclose the truth.
The first sight of the young men struck the captain of the Spanish escort with astonishment. Bronzed to the darkest brown by the sun of the plains and by the hardships they had undergone, dressed in the skins of animals, and carrying weapons altogether uncouth and savage to the Spanish eye, he found it difficult to believe that these figures were those of his countrymen.
His first question, however, concerned the savages who had, as he supposed, attacked his escort. A few words from Ned, however, explained the circumstances; and that the yells he had heard had been uttered by the Indians pursuing them, and had no reference, whatever, to the convoy. This consisted of some two hundred mules, laden with provisions and implements on its way to the mines. Guarded by a hundred soldiers were a large number of natives; who, fastened together as slaves, were on their way up to work for their cruel taskmasters.
When the curiosity of the captain concerning the natives was allayed, he asked Ned where he and his comrade had sprung from. Ned assured him that the story was a very long one; and that, at a convenient opportunity, he would enter into all details. In the first place he asked that civilized clothes might be given to them; for, as he said, they looked and felt, at present, rather as wild men of the woods than as subjects of the King of Spain.
"You speak a very strange Spanish," the captain said.
"I only wonder," Ned replied, "that I speak in Spanish at all. I was but a child, when I was carried away; and since that time I have scarcely spoken a word of my native tongue. When I reached the village to which my captors conveyed me, I found my companion here; who was, as I could see, a Spaniard, but who must have been carried off as an infant, as he even then could speak no Spanish, whatever. He has learned now from me a few words; but beyond that, is wholly ignorant."
"This is a strange story, indeed," the captain said. "Where was it that your parents lived?"
"I know not the place," Ned said. "But it was far to the rising sun, across on the other ocean."
As it seemed perfectly possible that the boys might have been carried away, as children, from the settlements near Vera Cruz, the captain accepted the story without the slightest doubt, and at once gave a warm welcome to the lads; who had, as he supposed, escaped after so many weary years of captivity.
"I am going up now," he said, "to the mines, and there must remain on duty for a fortnight, when I shall return in charge of treasure. It will be dangerous, indeed, for you to attempt to find your way to the coast without escort. Therefore you had better come on with me, and return under my protection to the coast."
"We should be glad of a stay with you in the mountains," Ned said. "We feel so ignorant of everything European that we should be glad to learn, from you, a little of the ways of our countrymen before we venture down among them. What is the nearest town on the coast?"
"Arica," the captain said, "is the port from which we have come. It is distant a hundred and thirty miles from here, and we have had ten days' hard journeying through the forest."
For the next fortnight, the lads remained at the mines. These were worked by the Spaniards entirely by slave labor Nominal wages were, indeed, given to the unfortunates who labored there. But they were as much slaves as if they had been sold. The Spaniards, indeed, treated the whole of the natives in the provinces occupied by them as creatures to be used mercilessly for labor, and as having no more feeling than the lower animals. The number of these unfortunates who perished in the mines, from hard work and cruel treatment, is beyond all calculation. But it may be said that, of the enormous treasures drawn by Spain from her South American possessions, during the early days of her occupation, every doubloon was watered with blood.
The boys, who had for nearly six months lived among the Indians, and had seen their many fine qualities, were horrified at the sights which they witnessed; and, several times, had the greatest difficulty to restrain their feelings of indignation and horror. They agreed, however, that it would be worse than useless to give vent to such opinions. It would only draw upon them the suspicion of the Spaniards, and would set the authorities at the mine and the captain of the escort against them, and might prejudice the first report that would be sent down to Arica, concerning them.
During the first few days of their stay, the boys acted their parts with much internal amusement. They pretended to be absolutely ignorant of civilized feeding, seized the meat raw and tore it with their fingers, sat upon the ground in preference to chairs, and in every way behaved as persons altogether ignorant of civilization. Gradually, however, they permitted themselves to be taught, and delighted their entertainers by their docility and willingness. The Spaniards were, indeed, somewhat surprised by the whiteness of their skin, where sheltered from the sun; and by the lightness of their hair and eyes. The boys could hear many comments upon them, and wondering remarks why they should be so much fairer than their countrymen in general. As, however, it was clearly useless to ask them, none of the Spaniards thought of doing so.
The end of the fortnight arrived and, under the charge of the escort, the lads set out, together with twenty mules laden with silver, for the coast. They had no longer any fear of the attacks of the natives, or any trouble connected with their food supply; an ample stock of provisions being carried upon spare mules. They themselves were mounted, and greatly enjoyed the journey through the magnificent forests.
They were, indeed, a little uneasy as to the examination which they were sure to have to undergo at Arica, and which was likely to be very much more severe and searching than that to which the good-natured captain had subjected them. They longed to ask him whether any news had been heard of the arrival of an English squadron upon the western coast. But it was impossible to do this, without giving rise to suspicion; and they had the consolation, at least, of having heard no single word concerning their countrymen uttered in the conversations at the mine. Had Captain Francis Drake and his companions arrived upon the coast, it was almost certain that their presence there would be the all-absorbing topic among the Spanish colonists.
Upon their arrival at Arica, the boys were conducted at once to the governor--a stern and haughty-looking Spaniard, who received the account given by the captain with an air of incredulity.
"This is a strange tale, indeed," he said, "and passes all probability. Why should these children have been kidnapped on the eastern coast, and brought across the continent? It is more likely that they belong to this side. However, they could not be malefactors who have escaped into the forest, for their age forbids any idea of that kind. They must have been stolen. But I do not recall any such event as the carrying off of the sons of Spaniards, here, for many years back.
"However, this can be inquired into when they learn to speak our language well. In the meantime, they had better be assigned quarters in the barracks. Let them be instructed in military exercises, and in our language."
"And," said an ecclesiastic who was sitting at the table, "in our holy religion; for methinks, stolen away as they were in their youth, they can be no better than pagans."
Tom had difficulty in repressing a desire to glance at Ned, as these words were spoken. But the eyes of the governor were fixed so intently upon them, that he feared to exhibit any emotion, whatever. He resolved mentally, however, that his progress in Spanish should be exceedingly small; and that many months should elapse, before he could possibly receive even rudimentary instruction in religious matters.
The life in the barracks at Arica resembled, pretty closely, that which they had led so long on board ship. The soldiers received them with good feeling and camaraderie, and they were soon completely at home with them. They practiced drill, the use of the pike and rapier; taking very great care, in all these exercises, to betray exceeding clumsiness. With the bow, alone, they were able to show how expert they were.
Indeed, the Spaniards were, in no slight degree, astonished by the extraordinary power and accuracy of their shooting. This Ned accounted for, to them, by the long practice that he had had among the Indians; declaring that, among the tribes beyond the mountains, he was by no means an exceptionally good shot--which, indeed, was true enough at short distances, for at these the Indians could shoot with marvellous dexterity.
"By San Josef!" exclaimed one of the Spanish officers, after watching the boys shooting at a target, two hundred yards distant, with their powerful bows; "it reminds me of the way that those accursed English archers draw their bows, and send their arrows singing through the air. In faith, too, these men, with their blue eyes and their light hair, remind one of these heretic dogs."
"Who are these English?" Ned asked, carelessly. "I have heard of no such tribe. Do they live near the seacoast, or among the mountains?"
"They are no tribe, but a white people, like ourselves," the captain said. "Of course, you will not have heard of them. And, fortunately, you are not likely ever to see them on this coast; but if you had remained where you were born, on the other side, you would have heard little else talked of than the doings of these pirates and scoundrels; who scour the seas, defy the authority of his sacred majesty, carry off our treasures under our noses, burn our towns, and keep the whole coast in an uproar."
"But," said Ned, in assumed astonishment, "how is it that so great a monarch as the King of Spain, and Emperor of the Indies, does not annihilate these ferocious sea robbers? Surely so mighty a king could have no difficulty in overcoming them."
"They live in an island," the officer said, "and are half fish, half men."
"What monsters!" Ned exclaimed. "Half fish and half men! How then do they walk?"
"Not really; but in their habits. They are born sailors, and are so ferocious and bloodthirsty that, at sea, they overcome even the soldiers of Spain; who are known," he said, drawing himself up, "to be the bravest in the world. On land, however, we should teach them a very different lesson; but on the sea it must be owned that, somehow, we are less valiant than on shore."
Every day a priest came down to the barracks, and for an hour endeavored to instill the elements of his religion into the minds of the now civilized wild men. Ned, although progressing rapidly in other branches of his Spanish education, appeared abnormally dull to the explanations of the good father; while Tom's small stock of Spanish was quite insufficient to enable him to comprehend more than a word, here and there.
So matters might have remained, for months, had not an event occurred which disclosed the true nationality of the lads. One day the ordinarily placid blue sky was over-clouded. The wind rose rapidly and, in a few hours, a tremendous storm was blowing on the coast. Most of the vessels in the harbor succeeded in running into shelter. But, later in the day, a cry arose that a ship had just rounded the point of the bay, and that she would not be able to make the port. The whole population speedily gathered upon the mole, and the vessel, a small one employed in the coasting trade, was seen struggling with the waves, which were rapidly bearing her towards a reef, lying a quarter of a mile from the shore.
The sea was, at this time, running with tremendous force. The wind was howling in a fierce gale, and when the vessel struck upon the rocks, and her masts at once went by the board, all hope of safety for the crew appeared at an end.
"Cannot a boat be launched," said Ned to the soldiers standing round, "to effect the rescue of these poor fellows in that wreck?"
"Impossible!" they all said. "No boat could live in that sea."
After chatting for a time, Tom and Ned drew a little apart from the rest of the crowd, and watched the ill-fated vessel.
"It is a rough sea, certainly," Ned said; "but it is all nonsense to say that a boat could not live. Come along, Tom. Let us push that shallop down. There is a sheltered spot behind that rock where we may launch her, and methinks that our arms can row her out to yonder ship."
Throwing off their doublets, the young men put their shoulders to the boat, and soon forced it into the water. Then, taking their seats and putting out the oars, they rowed round the corner of the sheltering rock, and breasted the sea which was rolling in. A cry of astonishment broke from the crowd on the mole as the boat made its appearance, and the astonishment was heightened when it was declared, by the soldiers, that the two men on board were the wild men of the wood, as they were familiarly called among themselves.
It was a long struggle before the boys reached the wreck, and it needed all their strength and seamanship to avoid being swamped by the tremendous seas. At last, however, they neared it and, catching a line thrown to them by the sailors, brought the boat up under the lee of the ship; and as the captain, the four men who composed his crew, and a passenger, leaped one by one from the ship into the sea, they dragged them on board the boat, and then turned her head to shore.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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15
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: The Prison of the Inquisition.
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Among the spectators on the mole were the governor and other principal officers of Arica.
"It seems almost like a miracle from heaven," the priest, who was standing next the governor, exclaimed.
The governor was scowling angrily at the boat.
"If there be a miracle," he said, "good father, it is that our eyes have been blinded so long. Think you, for a moment, that two lads who have been brought up among the Indians, from their childhood, could manage a boat in such a sea as this? Why, if their story were true they could, neither of them, ever have handled an oar; and these are sailors, skillful and daring beyond the common, and have ventured a feat that none of our people here on shore were willing to undertake. How they got here I know not, but assuredly they are English sailors. This will account for their blue eyes and light hair, which have so puzzled us; and for that ignorance of Spanish, which they so craftily accounted for."
Although the assembled mass of people on the beach had not arrived at the conclusions to which the governor had jumped, they were filled with astonishment and admiration at the daring deed which had been accomplished; and when the boat was safely brought round behind the shelter of the rock, and its occupants landed on the shore, loud cheers broke from the crowd; and the lads received a perfect ovation, their comrades of the barracks being especially enthusiastic. Presently the crowd were severed by two soldiers, who made their way through it and, approaching Ned and Tom, said: "We have the orders of the governor to bring you to him."
The lads supposed that the governor desired to thank them, for saving the lives of the shipwrecked men; for in the excitement of the rescue, the thought that they had exposed themselves by their knowledge of seamanship had never crossed their minds. The crowd followed tumultuously, expecting to hear a flattering tribute paid to the young men who had behaved so well. But the aspect of the governor as, surrounded by his officers, he stood in one of the batteries on the mole, excited a vague feeling of astonishment and surprise.
"You are two English seamen," he said, when the lads approached. "It is useless lying any longer. Your knowledge of seamanship, and your appearance, alike convict you."
For an instant the boys were too surprised to reply, and then Tom said, boldly: "We are, sir. We have done no wrong to any man, and we are not ashamed, now, to say we are Englishmen. Under the same circumstances, I doubt not that any Spaniard would have similarly tried to escape recognition. But as chance has betrayed us, any further concealment were unnecessary."
"Take them to the guard house," the governor said, "and keep a close watch over them. Later, I will interrogate them myself, in the palace."
The feelings of the crowd, on hearing this unexpected colloquy, were very mixed. In many, the admiration which the boys' conduct had excited swallowed up all other feeling. But among the less enthusiastic minds, a vague distrust and terror was at once excited by the news that English sailors were among them. No Englishman had ever been seen on that coast, and they had inflicted such terrible losses, on the West Indian Islands and on the neighboring coast, that it is no matter for surprise that their first appearance on the western shores of South America was deemed an omen of terrible import.
The news rapidly spread from mouth to mouth, and a large crowd followed in the rear of the little party, and assembled around the governor's house. The sailors who had been rescued had many friends in the port, and these took up the cause of the boys, and shouted that men who had done so gallant a deed should be pardoned, whatever their offense Perhaps, on the whole, this party were in the majority. But the sinister whisper that circulated among the crowd, that they were spies who had been landed from English ships on the coast, gradually cooled even the most enthusiastic of their partisans; and what at one time appeared likely to become a formidable popular movement, gradually calmed down, and the crowd dispersed.
When brought before the governor, the boys affected no more concealment; but the only point upon which they refused to give information was respecting the ships on which they had sailed, and the time at which they had been left upon the eastern coast of America. Without absolutely affirming the fact, they led to the belief that they had passed some years since they left their vessels.
The governor presently gazed sharply upon them, and demanded: "Are you the two whites who headed the negro revolt in Porto Rico, and did so much damage to our possessions in that island?"
Ned would have hesitated as to the answer, but Tom at once said, firmly: "We are not those two white men, sir, but we know them well; and they were two gallant and loyal Englishmen who, as we know, did much to restrain the atrocities of the Indians. We saw them, when they regained their ships."
It was lucky, indeed, that the governor did not put the question separately, instead of saying, "Were you two the leaders?" for in that case Ned would have been forced to acknowledge that he was one of them.
The outspokenness of Tom's answer allayed the governor's suspicions. A great portion of his questioning was directed to discovering whether they really had crossed the continent; for he, as well as the populace outside, had at first conceived the idea that they might have been landed on the coast as spies. The fact, however, that they were captured far up among the Cordilleras; their dress and their appearance; and their knowledge of the native tongues--which he tested by bringing in some natives, who entered into conversation with them--convinced him that all this portion of their story was true.
As he had no fear of their escaping he said that, at present, he should not treat them as prisoners; and that their gallant conduct, in rowing out to save the lives of Spaniards in danger, entitled them to every good treatment; but that he must report their case to the authorities at Lima, who would of course decide upon it.
The priest, however, urged upon the governor that he should continue his instructions to them in the Catholic religion; and the governor then pointed out to Ned, who alone was able to converse fluently in Spanish, that they had now been so long separated from their countrymen that they might, with advantage to themselves, become naturalized as Spaniards; in which case he would push their fortunes to the utmost and, with his report in their favor, they might rise to positions of credit and honor; whereas, if they insisted upon maintaining their nationality as Englishmen, it was but too probable that the authorities at Lima would consider it necessary to send them, as prisoners, to Spain. He said, however, that he would not press them for an answer, at once.
Greatly rejoiced at finding that they were not, at present, to be thrown into prison; but were to be allowed to continue their independent life, in the barracks; the lads took their departure from the governor's house, and were most cordially received by their comrades.
For a short time everything went smoothly. The suspicion that they were spies had now passed away, and the remembrance of their courageous action made them popular among all classes in the town. A cloud, however, began to gather slowly round them. Now that they had declared their nationality, they felt that they could no longer even pretend that it was likely that they might be induced to forsake their religion; and they accordingly refused, positively, to submit any longer to the teaching of the priests. Arguments were spent upon them in vain and, after resorting to these, threats were not obscurely uttered. They were told, and with truth that, only two or three months before, six persons had been burned alive, at Lima, for defying the authority of the church; and that, if they persisted in their heretical opinions, a similar fate might fall upon them.
English boys are accustomed to think with feelings of unmitigated horror, and indignation, of the days of the Inquisition; and in times like these, when a general toleration of religious opinion prevails, it appears to us almost incredible that men should have put others to death, in the name of religion. But it is only by placing ourselves in the position of the persecutors, of the middle ages, that we can see that what appears to us cruelty and barbarity, of the worst kind, was really the result of a zeal; in its way as earnest, if not as praiseworthy, as that which now impels missionaries to go, with their lives in their hands, to regions where little but a martyr's grave can be expected. Nowadays we believe--at least all right-minded men believe--that there is good in all creeds; and that it would be rash, indeed, to condemn men who act up to the best of their lights, even though those lights may not be our own.
In the middle ages there was no idea of tolerance such as this. Men believed, fiercely and earnestly, that any deviation from the creed to which they, themselves, belonged meant an eternity of unhappiness. Such being the case, the more earnestly religious a man was, the more he desired to save those around him from this fate. The inquisitors, and those who supported them, cannot be charged with wanton cruelty. They killed partly to save those who defied the power of the church, and partly to prevent the spread of their doctrines. Their belief was that it was better that one man should die, even by the death of fire, than that hundreds should stray from the pale of the church, and so incur the loss of eternal happiness. In the Indies, where the priests in many cases showed a devotion, and heroic qualities, equal to anything which has ever been displayed by missionaries, in any part of the world, persecution was yet hotter than it ever was in civilized Europe. These men believed firmly that it was their bounden duty, at any cost, to force the natives to become Christians; and however we may think that they were mistaken and wrong, however we may abhor the acts of cruelty which they committed, it would be a mistake, indeed, to suppose that these were perpetrated from mere lightness of heart, and wanton bloodthirstiness.
The laws of those days were, in all countries, brutally severe. In England, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, the loss of an ear was the punishment inflicted upon a man who begged. The second time he offended, his other ear was cut off. A third repetition of the offense, and he was sold into slavery; and if he ran away from his master, he was liable to be put to death by the first person who met him. The theft of any article above the value of three shillings was punishable by death, and a similar code of punishment prevailed for all kinds of offenses Human life was then held in such slight regard that we must remember that, terrible as the doings of the Inquisition were, they were not so utterly foreign, to the age in which they were perpetrated, as would appear to us, living in these days of moderate punishment and general humanity.
By the boys, however, brought up in England, which at that time was bitterly and even fiercely anti-Catholic--a state of things which naturally followed the doings in the reign of Queen Mary, and the threatening aspect maintained by Spain towards this country--popery was held in utter abhorrence, and the Inquisition was the bugbear with which mothers frightened their children, when disobedient.
The thought, therefore, of falling into the hands of this dreaded tribunal was very terrible to the boys. They debated, between themselves, whether it would not be better for them to leave Arica secretly, to make for the mountains, and to take up their lot, for life, among the natives of the plains, who had so hospitably received them. They had, indeed, almost arrived at the conclusion that this would be their best plan of procedure.
They lingered, however, in the hope, daily becoming fainter, of the arrival of Drake's fleet; but it seemed that, by this time, it must have failed in its object of doubling the Horn. Nearly six months had elapsed, since they had been left on the eastern coast; and, according to their calculation of distance, two months should have amply sufficed to enable them to make the circuit of Southern America.
They could not tell that the fleet had been delayed by extraordinary accidents. When off the Cape they had met with storms, which continued from the 7th of September to the 28th of October, without intermission; and which the old chronicler of the expedition describes as being "more violent, and of longer continuance, than anything since Noah's flood." They had to waste much time, owing to the fact that Captain Winter with one of the ships had, missing his consorts in the storm, sailed back to England, that two other ships were lost, and that Captain Drake with his flagship, which alone remained, had spent much time in searching for his consorts, in every inlet and island.
Among those saved, in the boat from the Spanish ship, was a young gentleman of rank and fortune, and owner of large estates near Lima, who had come down upon some business. He took a great affection for the young Englishmen, and came each day to visit them, there being no let or hindrance on the part of the governor. This gentleman assured them that he possessed great influence at Lima; and that, although he doubted not that the military authorities would treat them with all courtesy, after the manner in which they had risked their lives to save subjects of his majesty; yet that, should it be otherwise, he would move heaven and earth in their favor.
"There is but one thing I dread," he said, and a cloud came over his handsome face.
"You need hardly say what it is," Ned said, gravely. "You mean, of course, the Inquisition."
The Spaniard signified his assent by a silent movement of the head.
"We dare not speak, above our breath, of that dreaded tribunal," he said. "The very walls appear to have ears; and it is better to face a tiger, in his den, than to say ought against the Inquisition. There are many Spaniards who, like myself, loathe and abhor it; but we are powerless. Their agents are everywhere, and one knows not in whom he dare confide. Even in our families there are spies, and this tyranny, which is carried on in the name of religion, is past all supporting.
"But, even should the 'holy office' lay its hands upon you, keep up heart. Be assured that I will risk all that I am worth, and my life, to boot, to save you from it."
"Would you advise us to fly?" Ned said. "We can without doubt escape from here, for we are but lightly guarded; and the governor, I am sure, is friendly towards us."
"Whither would you fly?" asked the young Spaniard.
"We would cross the mountains to the plains, and join the Indians there."
"It would be a wretched life," the Spaniard said, "and would cut you off from all kindred, and friends. I can give you no advice. To me, I confess, death would be preferable, even in its worst forms. But to you, fond of exercise, and able to cause yourself to be respected, and feared, by the wild Indians of the Pampas, it might be different.
"However, you need not decide, yet. I trust that, even should the worst befall you, I may be able, at the last moment, to give you the opportunity of choosing that life, in preference to death in the dungeons of the Inquisition."
It was about ten days from the date of the governor's writing that a ship came in from Lima, and the same evening the governor came in to them, with a grave face. He was attended by two officials, dressed in the deepest black.
"Senors," he said, "it is my duty, in the first place, to inform you that the governor of Lima, acting upon the report, which I sent him, of the bravery which you manifested in the matter of the wreck here, has agreed to withdraw all question against you, touching your past connection with the English freebooters; and to allow you freedom, without let or hindrance, and to further your passage to such place as opportunity may afford, and where you may be able to meet with a ship from your own country. That is all I have to say to you."
Then the men in black stepped forward and said, "We arrest you, in the name of the holy Inquisition, on the charge of heresy."
The young men glanced at the governor, believing that he was sufficiently their friend to give them a sign, if resistance would be of any avail. He replied to the unspoken question by an almost imperceptible shake of the head; and it was well that the boys abandoned the idea, for the door opened and a guard of six men, armed to the teeth, although in plain dark clothes, entered. These were the alguazils of the holy office, the birds of night, whose appearance was dreaded even by the most bigoted Spaniards; and at whose approach mothers clasped their children closer to their breast, and men crossed themselves, at the thought that their passage boded death to some unhappy victim. For it must be remembered that the Inquisition, framed at first only for the discovery and punishment of heresy, later became an instrument of private vengeance. Men denounced wives of whom they wished to be rid, wives husbands; no relations of kin were sufficient to ensure safety. The evidence, sometimes true, was more often manufactured by malice and hate; until at last even the most earnest and sincere Catholics trembled when they thought that, at any moment, they might be denounced and flung into the dungeons of the Inquisition.
Brave as the lads were, they could not avoid a thrill of horror, at the presence of the familiars of this dreaded body. They were, however, cheered by the thought of the promises of the young Spaniard, in whose honesty and honor they had great faith; and with a few words of adieu to the governor, and thanks to him for what he had done in their behalf, they followed the officers of the Inquisition along the streets of Arica, and suffered themselves to be placed on board the boat, which lay alongside the mole.
Although it was late in the evening, their passage was not unobserved. Many of the soldiers recognized, in the two men marching, surrounded by the black guard of the Inquisition, their late comrades; and, confident in their numbers, these did not hesitate to lift their voices, in loud protest, against this seizure of men who had behaved so gallantly. In the darkness, too, they feared not that their faces would be recognized, and their curses and threats rose loud in the air.
People looking out from their doors, to hear the cause of the uproar, were variously affected. Some joined in the movement of the soldiers; but more shrank back with dread into their houses, rather than be compromised with so dreaded a body.
The threats, however, did not proceed to open violence; and as the young men, themselves, gave no sign of attempting an effort for freedom, their comrades contented themselves with many shouts of good wishes, mingled with curses upon their captors; and the lads were embarked, without the alguazils having to use the swords which they had drawn in readiness for the expected fray.
"You are witness, senor officer," Ned said, "that we came without resistance; and that, had we chosen, we could, with the assistance of the soldiers, have easily broken from the hold of your men. We are willing, however, to proceed with you to Lima; where we doubt not that the justice of our judges will result in our acquittal. No one can blame us that we are of the religion of our fathers. Had we been born Catholics, and then relapsed into heresy, it would have been reasonable for you to have considered our case; but as we but hold the religion which we have been taught, and know indeed of no other, we see not how, in any man's eyes, blame can rest upon us."
"I take note," the officer said, "of the docility with which you have remained in our hands; and will so far testify in your favor Touching the other matter, it is beyond my jurisdiction."
The vessel in which the boys were embarked was a slow one and, two days after leaving Arica, they saw a small sailing craft pass them, at no great distance, sailing far more rapidly than they themselves were going. The boys gave no thought to this occurrence, until they arrived at the harbor of Lima. A large number of ships were here anchored and, after the solitude of the sea, which they had endured during their voyage from England, this collection of fine galleons greatly pleased the boys, who had never seen so large a number of ships collected together, there being nigh forty sail then in harbor.
As the officers of the Inquisition scarcely ever pass through the streets in the daytime, owing to the known hostility of the mass of the population, no attempt at a landing was made, until nightfall. The officer in charge was however surprised, upon reaching the landing place, to find a large crowd assembled, who saluted his party with hisses and groans, and loud cries of "shame!" Those behind pressed forward, and those in front were forced into the ranks of the alguazils; and it seemed, at one time, as if the prisoners would be separated from their guards.
A man in a rough peasant's dress was forced in contact with Ned, and said hastily, in a low voice to him: "Keep up your heart. When preparations are made, I will act."
Ned recognized the voice of the young Spanish gentleman, whom he had left at Arica; and guessed immediately that he had taken passage in the swift-sailing caravel, in order to be able to reach Lima before the vessel containing the prisoners. Ned had, in confidence, in his talks with him, informed him that he still hoped, although his hopes had now fallen almost to zero from the long tarrying of the fleet, that the English admiral would arrive; and that he should be able to go on board, and so rejoin his countrymen. This expectation, indeed, it was which had prevented Ned and Tom making their escape, when they could have done so, and taking to the mountains; for it was certain that some time, at least, would elapse before stringent measures would be taken against them. Another effort would, without doubt, be made to persuade them to abandon their religion; and every day might bring with it the arrival of the English vessels.
The young men were conducted to a dark and sombre building, which bore the appearance of a vast monastery. The interior was even more dismal in its appearance than the walls without. A solitary figure met them at the doorway. Their guards entered, and the gates were closed behind.
The officer in charge handed to the newcomer a paper; and the latter, receiving it, said, "I accept the charge of the prisoners, and your duties are at an end, concerning them."
Motioning them to follow, he led them through some long dark corridors, into a room much better furnished and provided than they had expected. Here, placing a lamp upon the table, and pointing to two manchets of bread and a vessel of water, which stood on the table; and to two truckle beds, in the corner of the room, he left them without a word. Ned had already agreed with his companion that they would not, when once within the building, say a word, to each other, which they would not have heard by their jailors; for they were well aware that these buildings were furnished with listening places, and that every word which prisoners said would be overheard, and used against them. They comforted themselves, therefore, with general observations as to their voyage, and to the room in which they now were; and to the hopes, which they entertained, that their judges would take a favorable view of their conduct.
Then, with a sincere prayer to God, to spare them through the dangers and trials which they might have to undergo, they lay down for the night; and, such is the elasticity and strength of youth, they were, in spite of the terrible position in which they were placed, in a few minutes fast asleep.
The next day the door of the apartment opened, and two attendants, dressed in black from head to foot, and bearing white wands, entered, and motioned to them to follow them. Through more long corridors and passages they went, until they stopped at some thick curtains, overhanging a door. These were drawn aside, the door behind them was opened, other curtains hanging on the inside were separated, and they entered a large apartment, lighted artificially by lamps from above.
At a table at the end of the room were seated three men, also in black. They were writing, and for some time did not look up from their work. The attendants stood motionless by the side of the lads; who, in spite of their courage, could not but shudder at the grim silence of this secret tribunal.
At last the chief inquisitor laid down his pen and, lifting his eyes towards them, said: "Your names are Edward Hearne and Thomas Tressilis. You are English sailors who, having crossed from the other side of the continent, made your way to Arica; where you did, as I am told, a brave action, in saving the lives of some Spanish sailors."
Tom assented gravely to the address.
"You are accused," the inquisitor went on, "of being steeped in the errors of heresy; and of refusing to listen to the ministrations of the holy father, who tried to instruct you in the doctrines of the true church. What have you to say to this?"
"It is true, sir," Ned said, "every word. We were born Protestants, and were brought up in that church. Had we been born in Spain we should, no doubt, have been true members of your church. But it is hard that men, once ingrained in a faith, should change it for another. It were like asking a tiger to become a leopard. We are unlearned men, and in no way skilled in the exercises of theology. We accepted what we were taught, and would fain die in the same belief. Doubtless your priests could give us arguments which we should be unable to refute, whatever might be done by learned men of our church; and we would pray you to suffer us to hold to the creed in which we have been reared."
"It is impossible," the inquisitor said, "that we should permit you to go on, straightway, in the way of damnation. Your bodies are as nothing to the welfare of your souls; and to save the one it were, indeed, for your good that the other were tormented. We will not, however, press you now to recant your errors. You shall be attended by a minister of the true religion, who will point out to you the error of your courses; and in three days we shall expect an answer from you. If you embrace the faith of the Holy Church you may, if you choose to remain here, rise to posts of honor and wealth; for we have heard good things of your courage and prudence. If, however, you remain stubborn, we shall find means to compel you to do that which we would fain that you should do of your free will; and if you still defy, at once, the kindness and the chastisement of the church, you will receive that doom which awaits all who defy its authority."
The attendants now touched the lads on the arm, in token that the audience was over, and led them back to the room in which they had first been confined. When left alone the boys examined this closely, although seeming to be looking without motive at the walls. The windows were placed high up from the ground, far beyond their reach, and were thickly barred.
The door was of massive oak; and the room, although in appearance but an ordinary apartment, was truly a dungeon as safe, and as difficult to break out of, as if far below the surface of the earth. Later on, when an attendant came in with the bread and water, which formed the substance of each meal, as he placed it on the table he said, in a low muttered whisper: "Hope always. Friends are working."
This intimation greatly raised the spirits of the prisoners, as they felt that their friend the Spaniard had already succeeded in corrupting some, at least, of the familiars of the Inquisition; and that no means would be spared to secure their escape, should the worst occur.
For three days they were visited for many hours daily by a priest, who endeavored to explain to Ned the points of difference between the two religions, and to convince him of the errors of that of England. Ned, however, although but a poor theologist, gave answer, to all his arguments, that he could in no way reply to the reasonings of the priest; but that he was, nevertheless, convinced of their error, and sure that a divine of his church would have found replies to difficulties to which he could see no outlet. The priest strove earnestly with him, but at the end of the third day he retired, exasperated, saying angrily that he now left them to other hands.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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16
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: The Rescue.
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The next day they were again brought before the tribunal, and the grand inquisitor, without this time entering into any length of speech, informed them briefly that he gave them another three days; and that if, at the end of the third day, their obstinacy did not yield, he would use the means at his disposal--and he pointed to various instruments, hanging on the walls or ranged on the table. Of these, although the lads were ignorant of their uses, they entertained no doubt, whatever, that they were the instruments of torture of which they had heard--thumb screws, iron gags, the boot, the rack, and other devilish inventions. They made no reply to the address, and were taken away, this time, down several winding stairs to a black and noxious dungeon, far below the general level of the earth.
No ray of light entered this cell. The walls were damp with moisture. In the corner the boys discovered, by the sense of feeling, a small pile of rotten straw; which had, without doubt, formed the bed of some other unfortunate, who had before tenanted the prison. Here, at least, they had no fear of being overheard; but as the ingenuity of the inquisitors was well known, they agreed to say no word of the hopes they still cherished; but to talk of other matters, purely personal to themselves. Here, as hour after hour passed, they strengthened each other in their resolutions, by an agreement that no torture should wring from them a recantation of their faith, and by many prayers for strength and support from above.
Once a day the door opened, and an attendant brought in bread and water, which he placed in silence on the ground. The second day, as he did so, he placed a bundle by the side of the bread, and whispering, "Be prudent. Use these only as the last resource. Friends are preparing to help you," retired as noiselessly as usual.
When left in darkness again, the lads seized upon the parcel. It was large and heavy and, to their great delight, they found that it contained two daggers and two brace of heavy pistols.
"I wonder," Ned said, in a whisper to Tom, "that our friend does not contrive to get us passed through the prison. But I suppose that he finds that only one or two, perhaps, of the attendants are corruptible; and that our jailor, although he might free us from this cell, could not pass us through the corridors and out of the building."
"Let us see," Tom said, "if we can make our way into any cell which may adjoin this. If it is empty we might, perchance, make our escape."
All night the boys labored with their daggers, having first tapped the wall all round, to hear if any difference of sound gave an intimation that a hollow space was behind. They could not perceive this; but fancying that, upon the one side, there was some very slight difference, they attempted to remove the stones there.
All through the night and next day they continued their labor; and succeeded, with great difficulty, in removing two of the stones of the wall. Behind these, however, was a mass of rubble, formed of cement so hard that the daggers failed to make any impression, whatever, upon it; and after laboring through the whole day, they were forced to abandon the design, and replace the stones as they had before been; filling up the interstices with the mortar which they had dug out, so that no trace of the task upon which they were employed should remain.
That night, when the door opened, two figures, as before, presented themselves; and they knew that their summons before the dreaded court was at hand. With their daggers and pistols concealed within their vests, they followed their guides; each, with a grasp of his hand, assuring the other of his steadfastness and faith. They had resolved that, sooner than submit to torture, which would cripple them for life, they would fight to the last, and die resisting.
This time they found in the audience hall, in addition to the three judges, four men; clothed also in black, but evidently of an inferior order. These were standing, ranged along by the wall, in readiness to obey the orders of the judges. Their attendants fell back to the door, and the prisoners remained, standing alone, in the center of the room.
"Acting in all kindness," the judge said, "we have given you ample time to retract, and to consider your position; and we now call upon you to consent, formally, to abandon your accursed heresies, and to embrace the offer which the holy church kindly makes to you; or to endure the pains which it will be necessary that we should inflict, in order to soften your hardness of heart."
"We are perfectly resolved," Ned said, "to maintain the religion of our fathers. As Englishmen, we protest against this outrage. When your countrymen fall into our hands, no man dreams of endeavoring to compel them to abandon their faith. They are treated as honorable prisoners; and if any outrage be attempted upon our bodies, sooner or later, be assured, the news of it will come to the ears of our English captains; and for every drop of blood of ours shed, a Spanish life will answer."
"You are insolent," the inquisitor said, coldly. "It is rash to threaten men in whose power you are. These walls reveal no secrets, and though the town were full of your English pirates, yet would your doom be accomplished; without a possibility of rescue, and without your fate ever becoming known, beyond these four walls.
"Bethink you," he said, "before you compel me to use the means at my disposal; for men have spoken as bravely and as obstinately as you, but they have changed their minds, when they felt their bones cracking under the torture. We would fain abstain from injuring figures as manly as yours; but, if needs be, we will so reduce them to wrecks that you will envy the veriest cripple who crawls for alms, on the steps of the cathedral here."
The boys remained silent, and the inquisitor, with an air of angry impatience, motioned to the men ranged along by the wall to seize their prisoners.
The lads saw that the time for action was come. Each produced his pistol from his breast, the one leveling his at the head of the grand inquisitor, while the other faced the foremost of those advancing towards them.
"One step nearer," Ned said, "and the two of you are dead men."
A silence as of death fell in the chamber. The judges were too astonished even to rise from their seats, and the familiars paused in their advance.
"You see," Ned said to the grand inquisitor, "that you are not masters of the situation. One touch upon my trigger, and the death with which you threaten me is yours. Now write, as I order you, a pass by which we may be allowed to quit these accursed walls, without molestation."
Without hesitation, the judge wrote on a piece of paper the required order.
"Now," Ned said, "you must come with us; for I put no faith, whatever, in your promises; for I know the ways of your kind, that promises made to heretics are not considered sacred. You are, yourself, my best safeguard; for be assured that the slightest interruption to us, upon our way, and I draw my trigger, and send you to that eternity to which you have dispatched so many victims."
The judge rose to his feet, and Ned could see that, quiet as he appeared, he was trembling with passion. Tom had, at the first alarm, retreated to the door; so as to prevent the escape of the attendants stationed there, or of any of the others, to give the alarm. He now opened it, and Ned was about to pass out with the inquisitor when, glancing round, he saw that one of the other judges had disappeared, doubtless by some door placed behind the arras, at the end of the room.
"Treachery is intended," he muttered to the inquisitor; "but remember that you will be the first victim."
Slowly Ned passed along the corridors, the inquisitor between the two Englishmen, the attendants following in a group behind, uncertain what course to pursue, and without orders from their superior, when at last they came to a door. This was locked, and Ned ordered the inquisitor to have it opened.
"I have not the keys," he said. "They are in the hands of the attendant whose duty it is to attend to this portion of the building."
"Call them," Ned said impatiently.
The inquisitor struck on the closed door with his hands, and called aloud, but no answer was returned.
"Bid these men behind you force it in," Ned said.
The men advanced, but as they did so a small side door in the passage, behind Ned, opened noiselessly, and suddenly a thick blanket was thrown over his head, while an arm struck up the hand which had the pistol. He drew the trigger, however; and the grand inquisitor, with a groan, sank to the ground. At the same instant a number of men rushed through the door, and threw themselves upon the lads, and were joined by the attendants standing behind.
A desperate struggle ensued. Tom shot the two first men who sprang upon him, and for some minutes the lads maintained a desperate struggle. Again and again, the crowd of their assailants pulled one or other of them to the ground; but it was not until their strength was utterly exhausted, by their struggles, that both were secured, and bound hand and foot. Then, at the order of one of the other judges; who, now that all danger was over, appeared upon the scene, they were lifted bodily, carried back to their dungeon, and cast upon the ground.
Panting and breathless, the lads lay for some time, too exhausted to speak.
"I am afraid that I missed that rascally chief inquisitor," Ned said. "Did you notice, Tom?"
"I scarcely saw, for at the same moment I was struck from behind; but I fancy that he fell, when your pistol exploded."
"In that case," Ned said, "we may have a respite, for a day or two. He will feel inclined to be present at the ceremony of torturing, himself.
"On one thing I am determined. We will not be taken by the men in black, and submit to having our limbs wrenched, without an effort. I should think that, if we snatch up some of the iron instruments lying about, we can manage to make such a resistance that they will have to kill us, before we are overcome. If I could kill myself, I certainly would do so. I do not think I am a coward, Tom, but I confess that the sight of those horrible instruments makes my blood run cold."
"I feel with you, Ned. Death itself were nothing; but to be torn, limb from limb, is something horrible."
The day passed, without any visit being paid to them. No food was brought in, and they were left, as if forgotten, by their jailors. Thus they were unable to tell the hour and, as it was perfectly dark, it was by guesswork that they at last lay down to sleep on the damp stones.
Presently they were awoke by the tramp of numerous footsteps. Then there was a tremendous battering at the door.
"What on earth are they doing?" Ned exclaimed. "Have they lost the key, and are they going to break open the door, and finish with us, now? Get ready. We will make a fight at once, and try and end it."
Presently the door gave way before the heavy blows which were struck upon it; and, to the astonishment of the lads, a band of Indians, naked to the waist and holding torches, burst into the cell.
"Here they are!" exclaimed one of them, in Spanish.
"Quick, there is not a moment to be lost. Follow us;" and, stooping down, he cut the cords which bound them.
Bewildered and confused with the sudden light, and by the unexpected irruption, the boys followed the speaker; and, closely surrounded by the Indians, made their way down the passages and out into the courtyard. There was no resistance, or interference. The familiars had, apparently, fled at the sudden attack upon the jail, and no one appeared to bar their exit.
The great gates of the courtyard stood uninjured, but the postern door had been battered in. Another body of natives, armed with spears and bows and arrows, were standing round the entrance; and a good many of the people of the neighborhood, roused by the sudden tumult, were standing at the doors. These looked on, apparently, with mere curiosity, and with no desire to interfere with what was going on.
Indeed, the Inquisition was never popular with the great body of the Spaniards; over whom its secret proceedings, and terrible cruelties, hung like a dark cloud, as none could ever say that they might not be the objects of denunciation.
It was clear that the Indians were acting upon a fixed plan; for, the moment that those from within the prison sallied out, all formed in a compact body, and at a brisk slinging trot started down the street; the lads being kept well in the center, so as to conceal them from the gaze of the public. Not a word was spoken, till they had issued from the town. For another quarter of a mile their hurried march continued; and then, without a word, the whole of the escort, with the exception of one man, turned up a crossroad and vanished into the darkness.
"Heaven be praised that I have saved you, senors!" said the Indian who remained. "Do you not recognize me? I am Don Estevan, whose life you saved at Arica. I feared that I might be too late to find you unharmed; but it required time to get the necessary force together.
"You recognized me, of course, on the pier when you landed. The instant I heard of your arrest, I chartered a swift-sailing country craft, and arrived here the day before you. I was the bearer of a letter, signed by many of the soldiers in garrison at Arica, to their comrades here; saying how bravely you had behaved, and that you had become good comrades in the regiment, and urging them to do anything in their power to save you from the Inquisition. This I thought might be useful, as they would be sure to be called out, in case of an attack upon the Inquisition; and I prayed them to be as slow as possible in their movements, in case of any sudden alarm. This will account for the fact that none of them arrived upon the spot before we had finished our business, just now.
"But there is not a moment to delay. I have horses two miles away in readiness, and we must make for there. They will be sure to put on bloodhounds in pursuit, and we may have to ride for it."
The boys briefly expressed their intense gratitude to their preserver, for his efforts in their behalf, Ned adding, "I fear, Don Estevan, that your generous deed of tonight will involve you in fearful danger."
"I have taken every precaution," the young Spaniard said. "I did not charter the vessel in my own name, and came up in disguise. All my friends believe me to be still at Arica, and no one, so far as I know, has recognized me here. I was obliged to go to my estate, which lies a hundred miles up the country. There I armed my peons and vaqueros, and a number of Indians who were living near, to whom I have always shown kindness. None of them knew that it was the dungeon of the Inquisition which they were to attack, but believed that it was merely a prison they were about to force; for the power of superstition is very great in this country, and although a great many of the men may lead wild and godless lives, they tremble at the thought of lifting their hands against that mysterious and awful body, the Inquisition.
"News travels slowly, indeed, in this country; and it is not likely that the fact that the prison of the Inquisition has been broken open will ever reach the men on my estate. The priest of the village is a worthy man; and he has, I know, no sympathy with bigotry and cruelty. Consequently, if any of them should, in their confession, tell him that they have been engaged in breaking a prison, he will perchance guess what prison it was, and may imagine that I had a hand in it. But I feel sure that the knowledge so gained would go no further.
"I might, had I chosen, have had the horses brought to the point where we separated from my men. But in that case the hounds might have followed upon the main body, and so some clue would have been gained as to the direction from which they came. As it is, they will follow us up, at any rate until we take horses. We will make our track visible, for some distance, so that the pursuit may be carried on. Before it is over, they will have lost all track of the rest of their assailants; and will not, indeed, be able to trace the direction in which they went. They, too, have horses at a short distance, and will speedily regain the estate."
"How did you know in which cell we were confined?"
"Through the jailor. The man who attended you was once employed by my father. I met him, the day I arrived from Arica, and bribed him to convey the arms to you; with which I thought that, should they bring you to trial and torture before I could collect my force, you might make a resistance; for I judged that you would rather die than suffer mutilation and agony. When you disclosed your arms, today, he slipped at once from the building, as he knew that he would be suspected. Changing his clothes in a house near, he mounted his horse and rode to meet us, conveying the news that the crisis had arrived. How it ended he could not tell; but he hoped that some delay might occur, in resuming proceedings against you."
By this time they had reached their horses, which were tied in a clump of trees, at a short distance from the road.
"They are fine animals," Don Estevan said, "and we may reckon upon showing our heels to any of those who pursue us; for I can assure you that the chase is likely to be a hot one."
"Whither do you intend to go?"
"I am thinking of making for Arica. Before we reach that town you can, if you choose, strike to the hills and join the natives beyond, as you proposed when at Arica; or, should you prefer it, you can, in disguises, enter Arica and remain there, for a time, until all possibility of your friends appearing before that place be at an end.
"My absence will not have been noticed, for I mentioned to friends there that I was going into the interior, to investigate a mine, of whose existence I had heard from some Indians. When I return, therefore, I shall say that the mine was not sufficiently promising, in appearance, for me to care about asking for a concession from the government. I shall, of course, pretend to be extremely vexed at the time that has been wasted; and I do not see that any suspicion can fall upon me, as having been concerned in the affair at Lima.
"We will walk our horses at a slow pace, in order to save them, as far as possible; and to ascertain whether our pursuers have correctly followed our steps. When we once hear them, we can then put on our best speed; and as they will not know that we are but a short distance ahead, they will go at a moderate pace. Besides, the speed of bloodhounds, when tracking, is by no means great."
An hour later, they heard a faint sound in the distance. Instinctively they checked their horses, and again, in the darkness of the night, the deep distant bay of a hound was heard.
"Just as I thought!" Don Estevan exclaimed. "They have got the bloodhounds, and I should think, by the sound, that they must have just reached the spot where we mounted. The hounds will be puzzled now; but the sagacity of these creatures is so great that I am by no means sure that they will be unable to follow us by the track of the horses. Now let us set spur."
For the next four or five hours they proceeded, at a steady gallop, towards the south. The country was flat; the road sandy, but even; and the cool night air was exhilarating, indeed, after the confinement in the dark and noisome dungeon at Lima. So rejoiced were the boys, with their newly-recovered freedom, that it was with difficulty they restrained themselves from bursting into shouts of joy. But they were anxious that no sounds should be heard, by the villagers of the little hamlets lying along the road. The sound of the horses' hoofs on the sandy track would scarcely arouse a sleeping man; and the fact that their tracks would be plainly visible in the sand, when daylight came, caused them no concern; as, so far, they had made no effort to deceive their pursuers.
Soon after daylight arrived they found themselves upon a stream, which ran down from the mountains and crossed the road.
"Now," Don Estevan said, "it is time to begin to throw them off our track. They will believe that the party consist solely of Indians, and our turning east will seem as if we intended to take refuge in the mountains. Let us then strike up the river for awhile, land at a spot where the horses' hoofs will be clearly visible, and then pursue a course to the southeast, taking us nearer and nearer to the hills.
"Three leagues hence is another stream. This we will enter, and they will make sure that we have pursued our former tactics--that we have followed it up, and again struck for the hills. Instead of doing this, we will follow it down for a mile or two; and quit it at some spot where the bank is firm, and will leave no marks of our footsteps. Then we will strike across the country, and regain the road some seven or eight leagues further south."
The plan appeared a capital one, and was followed out as arranged. Late in the evening, they were again in the vicinity of the southern road. In their wallets was a plentiful supply of provisions, and they had filled their water bottles at the last stream which they had crossed. Entering a grove of trees, they unsaddled their horses and allowed them to crop the foliage and shrubs; while they threw themselves down upon the soft earth, stiff and wearied with their long journey.
"We will travel by night, always," Don Estevan said. "I do not think that any suspicion, whatever, will arise that we have again struck south; but should any inquiry be made, it is as well that no one along the road shall have seen three mounted men."
For another two days they journeyed, as proposed, by night; resting by day in quiet places and, so far as they knew, without having been seen by any of the scattered population. It was in the middle of the third night, as they were cantering slowly along, that they heard the tread of a horse, at full gallop, approaching from the south.
"You had better withdraw from the road," Don Estevan said, "so that but one horseman will be met. I will stop the rider, and hear why he gallops so fast. It may be that news has preceded us, and it is as well to gather what intelligence we can."
The boys withdrew from the road, Don Estevan proceeding ahead. They heard the sound of the galloping hoofs pause, as their rider met the Spaniard. There was a talk for a few minutes, and then the horseman again rode forward at full speed. Don Estevan paused for a little while, to allow him to get beyond earshot, and then rejoined his companions.
"I have great news," he said, "and it is for you to decide whether it will alter your plan of proceeding. The man whom I have just met is a messenger, dispatched by the governor of Arica to Lima, to warn the governor there that an English ship, under the noted freebooter Francis Drake, has put into that harbor; and has started again, sailing for the north, after exacting certain contributions, but otherwise refraining from injuring the town."
The boys gave a shout of joy, for they had begun to fear that the expedition must have met with some disaster, in doubling Cape Horn, and been compelled to return.
"What will you do?" the Spaniard asked.
"Return to Lima!" the boys exclaimed, simultaneously. "We shall be there before the admiral can arrive, and can then rejoin our comrades."
"That will indeed be your best plan," Don Estevan said; "but you must be disguised thoroughly. However, you are not likely to be so closely investigated as you otherwise would be, at Lima; for you may be sure that, when the messenger arrives there, the town will be in such a ferment of excitement, at the approach of your countrymen, that our little affair will, for the time, be entirely forgotten."
"I trust," Ned said, "that we shall be able to do something to render your security more perfect; for, if I mistake not, when the admiral hears of the doings of the officials of the Inquisition, how many people they have burned to death lately at Lima, and what frightful cruelties they have perpetrated in that ghastly prison, he will burn the place to the ground and hang up the judges; in which case we may be sure that no further inquiry will ever be thought of, concerning the attack on the prison. What do you advise us to do, senor? For it is clear that your best course is to return to Arica, direct."
"I cannot think of doing that," the generous young Spaniard replied. "A few days' longer absence will pass unnoticed, especially as people will have plenty of other matters to think, and talk, about. I do not see how you can possibly obtain disguises without my assistance; and as our pursuers will long since have been thrown off our track, and will probably have given up the search and have returned to Lima, convinced that we already have crossed the mountains and are beyond their reach. I think that there is little danger in my nearing the city.
"Come, let us turn our horses' heads, at once."
In a few minutes, they were returning by the route they had hitherto traveled They were already dressed as young Spaniards. The disguises had been brought by their rescuer, and assumed at the first halt. He himself had also washed the paint from his face and hands, and had assumed European garb, in order that any inquiry about three mounted Indians might be baffled.
"There is now," he said, "no longer any occasion for us to ride by night. We are journeying north, and any inquiries which may ever be set on foot will certainly point only to men going south; and whereas our Indian disguises might have been suspected, I am now in my proper character, and my passing through can excite no rumor or comment."
Don Estevan had, indeed, assumed the garb of a Spanish proprietor of rank, while the boys were dressed as vaqueros; and as they passed through villages, in the daytime, kept their horses half a length behind that of their leader. They avoided, on their ride back, putting up at any of the posadas, or village inns, on their road; sleeping, as before, in the woods. Their marches were long, but were performed at a much slower rate of speed, as they were certain that they would reach Lima long before the admiral's ship, even should he not pause at any place on the way.
It was upon the sixth day after their rescue from prison that they again approached Lima. After much consultation, they had agreed to continue in their Spanish dresses, taking only the precaution of somewhat staining their faces and hands, to give them the color natural to men who spend their lives on the plains. Don Estevan, himself, determined to enter the city with them after nightfall; and to take them to the house of a trusty friend, where they should lie, concealed, until the news arrived that the English ship was off the port. He himself would at once mount his horse, and retrace his steps to Arica.
The programme was carried out successfully. No one glanced at the hidalgo as, with his vaqueros, he rode through the streets of Lima. There were no lights, in those days, save those which hung before shrines by the roadside; or occasionally a dim oil lamp, suspended before the portico of some mansion of importance.
The friend to whom Don Estevan assigned them was a young man, of his own age; a cousin, and one, like himself, liberal in his opinions, free from bigotry, and hating the cruelties perpetrated in the name of religion by the Inquisition. He heard with surprise the narrative which Don Estevan related; for the latter had not visited him during his short stay in the city, and was supposed still to be at Arica. Great was his astonishment, indeed, when he found that the attack upon the prison of the Inquisition, which had caused such intense excitement in the city, had been planned and executed by his cousin; and his expressions of approval of the deed were warm and frequent. He assured the boys that he would do everything in his power to make them comfortable until the arrival of the English ship.
A discussion took place as to whether it was better that they should appear as friends of his, who had come in from their country estate; or whether they should continue their disguise as vaqueros. There were objections to either plan. In the first place, the attendants in waiting would detect the shortcomings in Ned's Spanish, and would be astonished at the silence of his companion. Upon the other hand, it would seem strange that they should be kept apart from the servitors of the house. Finally, it was agreed that they should appear as men of rank, but that Tom should feign sickness, and therefore keep his room; Ned for the most part remaining shut up with him, and taking his meals there.
This course was followed out, and when the arrangement was complete they took a hearty leave of the noble young Spaniard, who at once remounted his horse and started on his weary ride back again to Arica.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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17
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: The Golden Hind.
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The lads were all anxiety to know what course had been determined upon, with reference to the arrival of the English vessel. They were told that a large fleet was assembled in the harbor, but that great dissension existed, among the authorities, as to whether resistance should be offered or not.
"Surely," Ned said, "they will never allow one vessel to enter a harbor, thronged with shipping, and with a strong garrison on shore ready to take part in the defense!"
Their host flushed a little, and said: "You English must form but a poor opinion of Spanish courage. On shore, however, we have proved, on the battlefields of the Continent, that we can hold our own against all comers. But I own to you that your sea dogs have caused such a panic, among our sailors of the western isles, that they are looked upon as invincible, and our men appear to be paralyzed at the very name of the English buccaneers."
"Why we are particularly anxious to know," Ned said, "is that, if resistance is to be offered, it is clear that we must be ready to embark in a canoe, and to join the ship before she arrives off the harbor; as otherwise, if she is beaten off we may have no opportunity, whatever, of regaining her."
"I think," the Spaniard said, "that when the time comes, it is probable that no resistance may be offered; and that the valor of those who, so long as the ship is at a distance, are anxious to fight, will evaporate very rapidly. The citizens, too, are for the most part opposed to resistance; for they argue that, if the English conquer, they are likely to lay the town in ruins; whereas, if unopposed, they may content themselves with certain exactions upon the richer citizens, as has been their custom in the west."
During the days that elapsed, many arguments took place, between the Spaniard and Ned, as to the lawfulness of the war which the English buccaneers carried on with the colonies of a nation at peace with their own, the Spaniard saying that they approached very nearly to the verge of piracy. Ned had never given the subject much consideration before. He had done as others did, and had regarded the Spaniards as lawful prey, their cruelty towards the natives forming, in the eyes of the English sailors, a justification for any treatment which they might inflict upon them. He was, however, forced to confess that, now the other side was presented to him, the conduct of his countrymen was really indefensible; and he blushed as he thought of the various acts of sacrilege in churches, and other deeds of plunder, in which he had taken part. He assured his friend that, in the future, neither he nor his companion would ever share in such deeds again.
It was upon the evening of the 15th of February, two days after their return to Lima, that their host entered with the news that a ship was seen in the distance approaching the port, and that it was the general opinion of the mariners that she was the dreaded English pirate. He had already made arrangements that a small boat should be lying at one end of the mole. He told them that he could not venture to engage rowers, as the fact of the escape of two white men from the town might be noticed, and inquiries made. The boys assured him, however, that they were perfectly able to row themselves; and that the smaller the number in the boat, the less chances there would be of their being received by a random shot from their friends.
It was just nightfall when the English ship entered the harbor, where thirty Spanish vessels were lying, all prepared for defense The Golden Hind entered the port and dropped her anchor in the midst; and the quiet resolution and confidence, which this act betrayed, struck such a panic into the minds of the Spanish captains, that not one dared be the first to fire a gun at the intruder. Half an hour after the Golden Hind came to anchor, a boat was seen approaching, and was met by the hail, "Who goes there?"
The joyful shout of "Friends, your comrades, Ned Hearne and Tom Tressilis," was received by a cry of incredulity, and astonishment, by those on board the English vessel.
Two minutes later, the lads were on deck receiving the hearty embraces and congratulations of all the messmates; Reuben Gale and Gerald Summers being almost beside themselves with joy, at the return to them of the comrades they believed to be so long ago dead. The admiral himself was greatly moved at seeing them; for their gallantry during the preceding voyage, and their eager zeal to do all in their power for the expedition, had greatly raised them in his affections.
They were soon seated in the cabin, which was thronged by as many of the officers and gentlemen adventurers as could find room there. A brief narrative was given of their adventures, since leaving the fleet upon the other side of the continent; and loud were the expressions of surprise, and approval, at the manner in which they had gone through the various dangers and difficulties which they had encountered; Tom insisting, generously, that the credit was entirely due to the sagacity and coolness of his friend.
When the story of the scene in the dungeons of the Inquisition was told, and Captain Drake was informed that large numbers of persons had been burned alive in Lima, by the Inquisition, he was filled with fury; and at once dispatched two boat loads of men, armed to the teeth, to the shore, with orders to burn down the prison, to release any prisoners found there, and to offer them a safe passage to Europe; and also to hang all officials who might be found within the walls. Ned acted as guide.
The streets of Lima were deserted, as the news of the landing of a party from the English ship spread through the town; shops were closed and windows barred, and it was as through a city of the dead that the band passed rapidly along, until they reached the prison of the Inquisition. Here the doors were broken down, and the English sailors entered the ghastly prison. The cells were found to be tenanted only by natives, most of them men who had been captured in the hills, and who had refused to accept the Catholic religion. These were all loosed, and allowed to depart in freedom for the mountains, taking with them a store of such provisions for the way as could be found within the walls.
The sight of the torture room roused the fury of the sailors to the utmost pitch and, breaking into the part wherein dwelt the principal inquisitors, these were seized and hung from their windows. The contents of the various rooms were then heaped together, a light applied, and in a few minutes a glow of flame told the people of Lima that the dreaded prison of the Inquisition was no more.
The party then returned through the streets to the ship, and took part in the further operations commanded by the admiral. Proceeding from vessel to vessel, they took out all goods which they fancied, and which were either valuable, or might be useful to them in their further voyaging. They hewed down the masts of all the largest ships and, cutting their cables, allowed them to drift on shore.
No more astonishing scene was ever witnessed than that of thirty ships, backed by a garrison and considerable population on shore, allowing themselves to be thus despoiled and wrecked by the crew of one; and this a vessel inferior in size, and in the numerical strength of her crew, to many of those within the harbor.
The next day a party landed and stripped many of the churches of their valuables, and also levied a contribution upon the principal inhabitants. Ned and Tom, not thinking it worth while at this time to enter into a controversy, with the comrades to whom they had been so recently restored, as to the legality of their acts, simply declined to make part of the party who landed; alleging that they had had enough of the shore of the South American continent for the rest of their lives.
The 15th of February, the date upon which the Golden Hind arrived at the port of Lima, was indeed one to be remembered throughout the lives of the rescued seamen. Their future had appeared well-nigh hopeless. On the one side, the dungeon of the Inquisition and probably a death by fire. On the other, a life passed in the midst of savages, away from all possibility of ever rejoining their friends, or returning to their country. Now they were once again among those delighted to see them, and proudly trod the decks of the Golden Hind as gentlemen adventurers, having a good share in the booty, as well as in the honor, which would accrue to all on board.
So far, indeed, the plunder had been but small. Upon their way down to the Cape they had gleaned nothing, and since rounding it they had only touched at Valparaiso, where they had taken all that they required in the way of wines, stores, and provisions of all kinds, besides much gold and, it is sad to say, the rich plunder of the churches, including golden crosses, silver chalices, and altar cloths. Nowadays it gives one a positive shock to hear of English sailors rifling churches; but in those rough times, acts of sacrilege of this kind awakened but little reprobation.
The following day they hove the anchor and sailed northwards. In the port they had obtained news that, on the evening before they arrived, a ship laden with much treasure from Panama had appeared, but receiving news of the approach of the English, had again set sail. All determined that, if possible, the treasures on board the Cacafuego should pass into the hold of the Golden Hind.
Spreading all sail, they pressed northward. On the 20th of February they touched at the port of Paita, but did not find her there. On the 24th they passed the port of Guayaquil, and on the 28th crossed the line. On the 1st of March a sail was descried ahead and, sailing towards her, they found that she was indeed the vessel of which they were in search; and of which they had heard not only at Lima, but from a ship which they took at Paita, laden with wine; and from another, on board of which they found eighty pounds weight in gold, in Guayaquil.
The Cacafuego had no thought that the solitary ship which was seen approaching was that of Captain Drake; but taking her for a Spaniard, made no effort to fly. When, upon her coming close and hailing her to surrender, they discovered their mistake, the captain made a bold fight. Hastily loading his carronades, he poured a volley into the Golden Hind, and did not surrender his ship until one of his masts had fallen by the board, and he himself was wounded. Then, finding further resistance useless, he hauled down his flag.
The booty taken was even greater than had been expected. Of gold and silver, alone, there was on board her to the value of 750,000 pounds, equal to a vastly larger sum in these days; besides immense quantities of precious stones, silver vessels, and other valuables. For six days they lay alongside the Cacafuego, transferring her cargo to the Golden Hind; and at parting, Captain Drake was considerate enough to give the captain a letter to Captain Winter, or any of the other captains of the fleet, should they come north and meet her, begging that she should be allowed to pass without interruption; or that, should they have need of any of the few articles left on board her, they would pay double the value. He also, in exchange for the valuables transferred, was good enough to bestow upon the master a little linen, and some other commodities.
As it was now certain that the whole coast would be thoroughly alarmed, and the Governor General at Panama would be prepared, with a powerful fleet, to resist the Golden Hind should she stir in that direction, Captain Francis determined to sail boldly out to sea, and then to shape his course so as to strike the coast again, far north of the Spanish possessions. His object, in thus undertaking a voyage which would seem likely to yield but little profit, was that he hoped he might find a passage round the north of America, and so not only shorten his own return journey home, but open a most valuable country for trade, for his own countrymen.
On the 7th of March, before putting out to sea, he touched at the Island of Cano, off the coast of Nicaragua. Here they had an alarm which startled even the boldest. As they lay at anchor they felt the shock of a terrible earthquake, which almost brought down the masts of the ship; and for a moment all thought that she had been struck by some hostile machine, or had fallen down on a rock. The pumps were manned, and it was happily found that she made no water.
Here they made their last prize on the American coast--a ship which had come across from China. She was laden with linen, China silk, and China dishes. Among the spoil is enumerated a falcon made of gold, with a great emerald set in his breast.
It was not until the 15th of April that they again touched the land, and landed at Guatulco; whence, after a stay of a few hours, they departed; "not forgetting," the chronicler says, "to take with them a certain pot, of about a bushel in bigness, full of royals of plate, together with a chain of gold, and some other jewels; which we entreated a gentleman Spaniard to leave behind him, as he was flying out of town."
They then steered out to sea, and did not see the land again until, after sailing 1400 leagues, they came, on June 3rd, in sight of land in 42 degrees north latitude.
Before going further, the adventures of the fleet must be briefly related from the day, being the 21st of June, when the attack was made upon them by the Patagonians, and the boys were driven into the wood. Captain Francis, and those of the crew on shore with him, soon beat off the natives; inflicting some loss upon them. These took to the woods, in which they could not be followed; and Captain Francis, mourning for the loss of his three adventurers, and of the gunner killed by his side; and despairing of ever recovering the bodies of those who were, as he believed, cut off and murdered; embarked on board ship, and sailed down the coast. A few days later he put in to another bay, and there remained some time.
Here a strange scene was enacted, which has cast a shadow over the reputation of the great sea captain. Calling his officers together, he accused one of them, Captain Doughty, of treachery. He alleged that the plots against him were commenced before leaving Plymouth; and yet, as he had promoted Captain Doughty to the command of one of the ships, when upon the voyage, it is difficult to understand how he can, at that time, have believed that he was unfaithful. Nor, again, does it appear in what way his treachery could have injured the admiral, for as all the officers and crew were devoted to him, Captain Doughty might have tried, in vain, to lead them aside from his authority. He professed, indeed, the highest regard for the man he accused, and spoke to the captains of the great goodwill and inward affection, even more than brotherly, which he held towards him. And yet, he averred that it was absolutely necessary that Captain Doughty should be put upon his trial.
Captain Doughty, it is said, stricken with remorse at his conduct, acknowledged himself to have deserved death; for that he had conspired not only for the overthrow of the expedition, but for the death of the admiral, who was not a stranger, but a dear and true friend to him; and he besought the assembly to take justice into their hands, in order to save him from committing suicide.
The forty officers and gentlemen who formed the court, after examining the proofs, judged that "he had deserved death, and that it stood by no means with their safety to let him live, and therefore they remitted the matter thereof, with the rest of the circumstances, to the general."
Then Captain Drake offered to the prisoner either that he should be executed there and then, or that he should be left alone when the fleet sailed away, or that he should be sent back to England, there to answer his deeds before the lords of her majesty's council. Captain Doughty asked for twenty-four hours to consider his decision, and then announced his preference for instant execution, saying that death were better than being left alone in this savage land, and that the dishonor of being sent back to England would be greater than he could survive.
The next day Mr. Francis Fletcher, the pastor and preacher of the fleet, held a solemn service. The general and the condemned man received the sacrament together, after which they dined "also at the same table together, as cheerful in sobriety as ever in their lives they had done afore time, each cheering the other up, and taking their leave by drinking each to other, as if some journey only had been in hand." After dinner, Captain Doughty came forth, kneeled down at the block, and was at once beheaded by the provost marshal.
Such is the story of this curious affair, as told by the chroniclers. But it must be remembered that these were favorable to Captain Drake, and it certainly seems extraordinary that, upon such a voyage as this, Captain Doughty could not have been deprived of his command and reduced to the rank of a simple adventurer; in which he could, one would think, have done no harm whatever to the expedition.
At the island where this execution took place the fleet abode two months, resting the crews, wooding, watering, and trimming the ships, and bringing the fleet into a more compact compass; destroying the Mary, a Portuguese prize, and arranging the whole of the crews in three ships, so that they might the more easily keep together. On August the 17th they set sail, and on the 20th reached the entrance to the Straits, Cape Virgins. Here the admiral caused his fleet, in homage to the Queen, to strike their foresails, acknowledging her to have the full interest and honor in the enterprise; and further, in remembrance of his honored patron, Sir Christopher Hatton, he changed the name of the ship in which he himself sailed from the Pelican to the Golden Hind, this animal forming part of the chancellor's armorial bearings.
They now entered the narrow Straits of Magellan, which are in many places no wider than a river; and in the night passed a burning mountain, which caused no little surprise to those who had never beheld anything of the kind. Here all were astonished by the sight of huge numbers of penguins, which were then for the first time discovered by Englishmen. These strange birds, with their long bodies, short necks, and absence of wings, greatly astonished them; and were so tame that, in the course of an hour or two, they killed no less than three thousand of them, and found them to be excellent food. One of these islands the admiral christened Saint George.
Sailing on for some days, they came to a bay in which they found many natives, who came out in a canoe whose beauty and form were considered, by all, to be far superior to anything that they had hitherto beheld; which was the more singular, inasmuch as these people were of a very low type. However, they appear in those days to have been more advanced in civilization than their descendants now are.
On the 6th of September they entered the South Sea, Drake having been the fourth commander who had sailed through the Straits. The first passage was made by Magellan in 1520, the second by Loyasa in 1526, the third by Juan de Ladrilleros from the Pacific side. In this voyage the English commander had far better weather than had been experienced by his predecessors, accomplishing in a fortnight a voyage which had taken them some months.
His good fortune, however, here deserted them; for upon the very day after they entered the South Sea, a contrary wind fell upon them, and increased to a powerful hurricane. This augmented rather than decreased in force, and on the night of September the 30th the Marigold, Captain John Thomas, was separated from the rest of the fleet, and was never heard of, after.
Until the 7th of October they did not again see land, being driven far to the south. They then discovered an island, and entering a harbor came to anchor. The shelter, however, was a poor one, and the gale blew so furiously that, in the night, the Elizabeth was blown from her anchors, and lost sight of the Golden Hind. It is a question whether this event was not partly caused by the captain, Winter, who certainly behaved as if he had the fixed intention of returning to England. He never made any serious effort to rejoin the Golden Hind; but, after remaining for some little time in those quarters, he sailed for England, reaching home in safety some months afterwards.
They christened the bay "The Parting of Friends," and the Golden Hind was driven down again into 55 degrees south latitude. Fresh gales fell upon them and, as has been said, it was not till October the 28th, after fifty-two days of almost unexampled bad weather, that the sky cleared, and they were able to renew their journey. They searched the islands in all directions for their missing friends, and in remembrance of them the admiral gave them the name of the Elizabethedes.
Hoping that Captain Winter had sailed north, the Golden Hind's head was turned in that direction, with great hope that they might meet her in latitude 30 degrees; which had been before appointed as a place of rendezvous, should the fleet happen to be separated. Touching at many points, they inquired everywhere of the natives, but could hear no word of any ship having been seen before.
At the island of Mocha they had a misadventure. The island was thickly inhabited by many Indians, whom the cruel conduct of the Spaniards had driven from the mainland. With these people the admiral hoped to have traffic, and the day after his landing they brought down fruit and vegetables and two fat sheep, receiving in return many little presents. They seemed to be well content, and the next morning early, all being ready for a general traffic, the admiral repaired to the shore again, with two-thirds of his men, with water barrels to fill up the ship. As they were peaceably engaged in this task the natives, to the number of five hundred, suddenly sprang from an ambush, and with their arrows shot very grievously at the English.
The general himself was struck in the face, under his right eye and close by his nose. Nine other persons of the party were all wounded grievously. The rest gained the boats, and all put off. None of the wounded died; which, considering that there was no surgeon on board the ship, was looked upon by the mariners as a special miracle in their favor.
There was a great talk of returning to shore, to punish the men who had so treacherously attacked them. But the admiral, seeing that many of the men were hurt, and believing that the attack had been the result of the cruel treatment bestowed upon the natives by the Spaniards, with whom they had naturally confounded our men, determined to leave them alone; and the same night sailed north, seeking some convenient spot where the men could land, and obtain a supply of fresh provisions.
Such a place they found at Philip's Bay, in latitude 32 degrees. Here they came to an anchor; and an Indian, described as a comely personage of a goodly stature, his apparel being a white garment reaching scarcely to his knees, came on board in a canoe. His arms and legs were naked; his hair upon his head very long, and without a beard; of very gentle, mild, and humble nature, and tractable to learn the use of everything. He was courteously entertained and, receiving gifts, returned to the shore; where his companions, being much pleased with his reception, at once did all that they could for the fleet, and brought down provisions and other things desired.
The natives also offered to guide them to a better harbor where, the people being more numerous, they could obtain a greater store of the things desired. The offer was accepted, and on the 4th of December, piloted by him, they came to a harbor in such a place as was wished for. This was the Spanish harbor of Valparaiso, and here, indeed, they found all that they desired, and that without payment. The Spaniards, having no idea of the English being in the vicinity, received them with all honor; but as soon as the mistake was discovered they fled, and the town fell into their hands. In a ship in the harbor, called the Grand Captain, 1800 jars of wine and a large quantity of gold were found. The churches were plundered of their ornaments and relics, and the storehouses of the city laid under contribution of all things desired.
Sailing again on the 19th of December, they touched to the southward of the town of Coquimbo, where fourteen of them landed. The Spaniards here, however, appeared to be bolder than their comrades in other towns; for a hundred of them, all well mounted, with three hundred natives, came up against them. This force being descried, the English retreated, first from the mainland to a rock within the sea, and thence to their boat. One man, however, Richard Minnioy, refused to retire before the Spaniards; and remained, defying the advancing body, until they arrived. He, of course, fell a victim to his obstinacy; and the Spaniards, having beheaded the body, placed it against a post, and used it as a target for the Indians. At nightfall they left it, and the English returned to shore in their boat, and buried it.
The next day, finding a convenient place, they remained for a month; refitting the ships and resting the crews, obtaining an abundance of fish and other provisions such as they required; fresh water, however, being absent.
Sailing along, they came to Iquique and, landing here, they lighted upon a Spaniard who lay asleep, and had lying by him thirteen bars of silver. Thinking it cruel to awaken him, they removed the money, and allowed him to take his sleep out in security. Continuing their search for water they landed again, and near the shore met a Spaniard, with an Indian boy, driving eight "Peruvian sheep," as the chronicler calls them; these being, of course, the llamas, which were used as beasts of burden. Each sheep bore two leathern bags, in each of which was fifty pounds weight of refined silver. The chronicler says: "We could not endure to see a gentleman Spaniard turned carrier so; and therefore, without entreaty, we offered our services, and became drivers; only his directions were not so perfect that we could keep the way which he intended, for almost as soon as he was parted from us we, with our new kind of carriages, were come unto our boats."
Beyond this Cape lay certain Indian towns, and with the natives of these, who came out on frail rafts, they trafficked knives, beads, and glasses, for dried fish. Here they saw more of the llamas, which are described at great length by the historians of the expedition; who considered, and rightly, that they were extraordinary and most useful animals. If however this assertion, that upon one of their backs "did sit at one time three well-grown and tall men, and one boy" be true, they must have been considerably larger in those days than at present.
It was but a few days later that they arrived at Arica, at which place also they gleaned considerable booty, and thence proceeded to Lima, which they reached seven days after leaving Arica.
After their long voyage out to sea they again bore north, and reached the land at the Bay of San Francisco. Here they complained bitterly of the cold; which is not a little singular, inasmuch as the time of the year was June, a period at which the heat at San Francisco is, at present, excessive. It must be assumed, therefore, that some altogether exceptional season prevailed during this portion of the voyage.
Here they were well north of the Spanish possessions, and fell among a people who knew nothing of the white man. A native in a canoe speedily came out to the ship, as soon as she cast anchor; and, standing at a long distance, made delivery of a very prolix oration, with many gestures and signs, moving his hand, turning and twisting his head and body, and ending with a great show of reverence and submission. He returned to shore. Again, and for a third time, he came out and went through the same ceremony; after which he brought a little basket of rushes, filled with an herb which is called there tambac, which he threw into the boat. Then he again returned to shore.
The people came out, many of them in boats, but would not approach the vessel; and upon the third day the vessel, having received a leak at sea, was brought to anchor nearer the shore, and preparations were made to land her stores.
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{
"id": "19206"
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: San Francisco Bay.
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After his experience of the treachery of the native, the admiral determined to build a fort to protect the party on shore. The people, seeing these preparations, appeared in large numbers and approached, but their attitude expressed astonishment rather than hostility. They then, laying down their arms, gathered round the little party of white men; but as they brought their women with them, the admiral concluded that no hostility was intended, and allowed them freely to mix with the whites. Their attitude and deportment showed that they looked upon them as gods, paying worship in the most abject manner. In order to show them that his men were but human, the admiral ordered them to eat and drink, that the people might observe that they were but men, as they. Even this failed to convince them and, during the whole time that they remained there, they were treated as being creatures of celestial origin.
Two days later, the natives returned in great numbers. A leader at their head again delivered a long and tedious oration, "to which," according to the chronicler, "these people appear to be much addicted." This oration was delivered with strange and violent gestures, the speaker's voice being extended to the uttermost strength of nature, and his words falling so thick, one in the neck of another, that he could hardly fetch his breath again.
When he had concluded, the people bowed to the earth, giving a long cry of "Oh," which appears to have answered to our "Amen." Then the men came forward, and the women went through a number of exercises, which appear to have shocked and appalled our seamen.
"As if they had been desperate, they used violence against themselves, crying and shrieking piteously, tearing their flesh with their nails from their cheeks in a monstrous manner, the blood streaming down over their bodies. Then, holding their hands above their heads so that they might not save their bodies from harm, they would with fury cast themselves upon the ground; never respecting whether it were clean or soft, but dash themselves in this manner on hard stones, knobby hillocks, stocks of wood, and prickly bushes, or whatever else were in their way; iterating the same course again and again, some nine or ten times each, others holding out for fifteen or sixteen times, till their strength failed them."
The admiral, horrified by this cruel exhibition of reverence, ordered his men to fall to prayers; and signified to them that the God whom we did serve did not approve of such measures as they had taken.
Three days later the king himself came down, and the ceremonies were repeated. The king then offered to the admiral the monarchy of that land, and perceiving that this would please them, and having in mind the honor and glory of her majesty, Captain Francis accepted the crown, and with many ceremonies was installed king of that country, taking possession of the land in the name of the Queen. It is not a little singular that this, one of the richest and most valuable portions of the United States, should thus have become by right, alike, of discovery and of free gift of the people, a possession of England.
For some days the people continued their cruel exercises upon themselves, and so fixed were they in their idolatry that, even when forcibly prevented acting this way, they would, immediately they were released, set to with even redoubled fury to cut and injure themselves.
After a time, their worship took a new form. All the people of the country having wounds, shrunken limbs, or diseases of any kind were brought down to be cured; and the people were much grieved that an instantaneous cure could not be effected, but that our men proceeded, by the application of lotions, plasters, and unguents, to benefit those who had anticipated immediate remedy.
Altogether, the account given by the voyagers of the people of this part of America is most favorable They appear to have been of a tractable, free, and loving nature, without guile or treachery. They were finely built men, and one of them could carry easily, uphill and down, a weight which two or three Englishmen could scarcely lift. They were swift at running, and could catch a fish in the sea, if it were in water within their depth.
When the ship was repaired, the admiral, with many of his officers, made a journey into the interior, and found that it was a goodly country, with a very fruitful soil. There were many thousands of large and fair deer, grazing in herds. This country was christened, by the admiral, Albion; partly from the color of its cliffs, partly in remembrance of his country. On the shore a monument was set up, and on it a plate of brass was affixed, engraven with the Queen's name, the date of the arrival of the ship, and of the free giving up of the province and kingdom into her majesty's hand; and a piece of current English money was fastened beneath a hole made in the brass plate, so that it might remain as a proof that the English had taken possession of this land, to which the Spaniards had never approached.
As the stores were being taken on board again, and the natives saw the preparations for embarkation, the joy with which the arrival of these white beings had been received was changed into sorrow, and all the people went about mourning and crying. For many days this continued, and the parting, when the ship set sail on the 23rd of July, was a very sorrowful one, the people climbing to the top of the hills, so as to keep the ship in sight as long as they could, and making great fires and burning thereon sacrifices to the departing gods.
The admiral had now made up his mind to abandon the search for a passage round the north of America. The cold had become even greater, while they remained in the bay. The natives themselves were wrapped in black cloths, and huddled together for warmth; and those in the ship suffered exceedingly. Moreover, the shores of the country trended far more to the west than had been expected, and the admiral concluded that, far to the north, the shores of America and Asia must unite. He thought, too, that in that country must be very lofty mountains, covered with snow; for so alone could he account for the exceeding coldness of the wind. Believing, therefore, that no passage could be made in that way, and seeing that the ship had already gone through heavy tempests, and the men, although still of good heart, yet were longing for a return home after their great labors, he steered to the west, making the Moluccas his aim.
During the voyage from Lima along the coast of South America, the boys had met with no special adventures. Upon the day after they came on board ship, Ned and Tom were called by the admiral into his cabin, and there recounted to him, at great length, all the adventures that they had gone through. He wondered greatly at their recital, and commended them exceedingly for the prudence and courage which they had shown. The account of the strange places, never before trodden by the foot of white men, which they had seen, he ordered his secretary to write down, at full length, that it might be delivered to her gracious majesty, together with the record of the voyage of the Golden Hind; and he predicted that the Queen would take great pleasure in this record of the first journey across the continent.
"As to you," he said, turning to Ned, "you seem to be fated to get into adventures, and to find your way out of them. I have not forgotten the strange passage in the Island of Puerta Rico; and I predict that, if you go on as you have begun, you will come to great things."
Warmly, also, did he praise Ned's companion on the journey; but the latter modestly ascribed all the success, which had attended their journey, to the knowledge of native life which Ned had gained among the negroes, and to his courage and prudence.
"Nevertheless," said the admiral, "there is praise due also to you, for you have known when to subordinate yourself to one younger in years, although older in experience. This virtue is rare, and very commendable; and I doubt not that, had you not so freely given up your own wishes and inclinations to those of your comrade, you might both have perished miserably."
He further expressed his high opinion of Ned's bravery, and discretion, by giving him a command in the ship as third officer; finding, on inquiry, that he had learned how to take the altitude of the sun, and to do other things necessary for the discovery of the position of the ship.
These signs of goodwill on the part of the admiral caused, as might have been expected, some jealousy among a considerable portion of the equipage. Many, indeed, were glad at the position which Ned had gained by his enterprise and courage. Others, however, grumbled, and said that it was hard that those who had done their duty on board the ship should be passed over, in favor of mere youngsters, who had been wandering on their own account on land. Ned himself felt that there was some reason for this jealousy, upon the part of those who had borne the burden of all the great labors, which those on board the Golden Hind had undergone; and he spoke to the admiral and expressed his willingness, nay more, his desire, to remain as a private gentleman and adventurer on board the ship. This, however, Captain Francis would not hear of.
"Merit has to be rewarded," he said, "wheresoever it is found. These men have done their duty. All indeed on board the ship have wrought nobly, for their own safety and for the honor of her majesty the Queen. But you have gone beyond this; and have, by your journey across the continent, brought fame and credit to the country. It is right that men who discover strange lands into which, some day, the power of Christianity and civilization may enter, should receive honor and credit of their countrymen. Of those who seek to do these things many perish, and those who survive should be held in honor" Most of all delighted, at the success and honor which had befallen Ned, were his three friends. Two of them considered that they owed their lives to him. All regarded him as their leader, as well as their comrade. But Reuben Gale grumbled much that he had had no share in the adventures which had befallen his three friends.
"You have all three strange histories to tell. You have seen wonderful things, and have journeyed and fought with wild men and Spaniards; while I, with equal goodwill, have never had the chance of doing more than join in the taking of Spanish caravels, where the resistance was so poor that children might have done the business."
Ned laughed, and promised him that the next adventure he got into he would, if possible, have him as his comrade.
"We have a long voyage yet," he said. "We have not gone much more than a third of the circumference of the world and, before we reach England, strange things may happen yet. We left Plymouth with a noble fleet of six ships. Now there remains but one, and fifty-eight men. At the same rate we shall be reduced to a cock boat, and four men, before we reach England. So keep up your heart, there is plenty of time before us."
So great was the confidence which they felt in Ned that Reuben was cheered with this promise; although he knew, in his heart, that these adventures fell upon Ned not from any effort of his own, but by the effect of accident; or, as we may say, Providence.
The young men liked not their stay in San Francisco Bay. Those who were best-looking and youngest were especially chosen out by the women as objects of their adoration, and the lads were horrified at the way in which these poor creatures beat and tore themselves, and groveled upon the ground; and so, being sick at heart at these mummeries, and at receiving a worship fit only for the Creator of the world, they remained on board ship, as much as possible, during the time that they tarried there.
Except for a group of islands which they passed the day after sailing west, the Golden Hind saw no more land from the 23rd of July until September 30th, sixty-eight days in all, when they fell in sight of some islands, lying about eight degrees to the northward of the line. As soon as the ship was seen a great number of canoes came out, having in them some four, some six, some fourteen, or even twenty men, paddling rapidly and bringing cocoas, fish, and fruits.
The beauty and workmanship of these canoes astonished the voyagers. They were made out of one tree of great length, hollowed with fire and axe; and being so smooth, both without and within, that they shone like polished wood. The bow and stern were alike in shape, rising high and falling inwards almost in a semicircle, and being covered with white and glistening shells, for ornament. These canoes had upon either side outriggers--that is, pieces of cane extending six or seven feet beyond the side, and to which were fixed spars of very light wood, so that the boat could in no wise overturn.
These people evinced no fear of the English, and it was clear that, although they might not themselves have seen a ship before, the presence of the Portuguese in these seas was known to the islanders, and the manner of their vessels.
The nature of these people was very different from that of the gentle savages on the western coast of America. They did not trade honestly, as these had done; but obtained as much as they could, and then pushed off from the side of the ship, without handing up the goods which they had bargained to give; and behaved so rascally that the admiral, seeing that their intentions were altogether evil, ordered a gun to be fired, not with the intent of hurting any, but of frightening them. The roar of the cannon was followed by the instant disappearance of every native from the fleet of canoes, amid the laughter of those on board ship. For a long time none could be seen, each as he came above water keeping on the further side of his canoe, and then paddling with it astern, so that the ship, as she floated on, left them gradually behind. When they thought that they were in safety they again took their places in the canoes, and finding that none were hurt, again paddled alongside the ship, and made pretense to barter. Some of them indeed came on board with their wares, but while pretending to be engaged in honest trade, they stole the daggers and knives from the men's girdles, and pillaged whatever they could lay their hands upon.
The admiral, being wroth at this conduct, had some of these men seized and flogged; and then, driving the rest into their canoes, hoisted sail and went onwards, christening the place the "Island of Thieves," so as to deter all passengers, hereafter, from ever visiting it.
Passing through many other islands they made for Tidore, the principal place in the Moluccas. But as they passed the Island of Motir, which was then called Ternate, a deputy, or viceroy, of the king of that island came off to the ship in a great canoe, and entreated the admiral to anchor at that island, and not at Tidore; assuring him, in the name of the king, that he would be wondrous glad to see him, and to do all that the admiral could require. He himself promised to return to the king at once, who would get all in readiness; whereas, if they went on to Tidore, where the Portuguese held sway, they would find in them deceit and treachery.
On these persuasions Captain Drake resolved to run into Ternate; where, next morning, he came to anchor. The admiral then sent a party, consisting of Ned and three other adventurers, to the king; bearing the present of a velvet cloak, as a testimony of his desire for friendship and goodwill; with the message that he should require no other thing at his hands but that he might be allowed, by traffic and exchange of merchandise, to obtain provisions; of which, after his long voyage across the seas, he had now but small store.
As the boat rowed to shore, it was met by a large canoe coming out with a message, from the king, that he had heard from his viceroy how great was the nobleness of the captain, and of the Queen whom he served; and that he, who was the enemy of the Portuguese, whom he had expelled from his dominions, would gladly agree to aid him, and to enter into treaties by which all ships of his nation might come to Ternate, and trade for such things as they required, all other white men being excluded.
On arriving at the shore, the deputation were met by many personages. They were dressed in white cloths of Indian manufacture, and the party marveled much at the difference between their stately manners and ways, and those of the people whom they had lately left. Accompanied by these personages, and with great honor, they were conducted to the interior of the island; where, in a house surprisingly large for a people so far removed from civilization, and which, indeed, they afterwards learned had been built by the Portuguese, they found the king, who received them with much honor He was a tall and stout man, with much dignity in his manner. It was clear that his authority among his people was very great, for even the nobles and councilors whom he had sent to greet them bowed to the dust in his presence.
Ned had consulted with his comrades on the way, and had agreed that, as the messengers of the admiral, and therefore in some way as the representatives of the Queen, it was their duty to comport themselves as equal, at least, in dignity to this island monarch. Therefore while all the people knelt in the dust in humility, they walked straight to his majesty, and held out their hands in English fashion. His majesty was in no whit offended at this: and indeed, by his manner, strove to express his respect. A certain amount of conversation was carried on with him, for in the island were an Italian and a Spaniard; who, having been made prisoners by the Portuguese, had escaped to Ternate. These men, acting as interpreters, conveyed to the king the messages sent by the admiral; and in return informed Ned that the king was, in all ways, most anxious to express his pleasure to the admiral; and that, on the morrow, he would himself visit him on board ship. He also, as a pledge, delivered his own signet ring to Ned, to carry on board.
Having returned on board ship with these messages, they waited for the morrow, when three large canoes put off from the shore. In these were the greatest personages on the island. They sat in the canoes in accordance with their rank, the old men in the stern. Next to these were divers others, also attired in white, but with differences in the way in which the clothes were worn. These also had their places under the awning of reeds. The rest of the men were soldiers, who stood ranged on each side. On the outside of these, again, sat the rowers. These canoes must have in some way resembled the old Roman triremes, for it is said that "there were three galleries on either side of the canoe, one being builded above the other; and in each of these galleries were an equal number of benches, whereon did sit the rowers, about the number of fourscore in each canoe."
In the fore part of each canoe sat two men, one holding a drum and the other a piece of brass; whereon both at once struck, marking the time for each stroke. The rowers, on their part, ended each stroke with a song, giving warning to those on the prow to strike again; and so, rowing evenly, they came across the sea at great speed.
Each of these canoes carried a small cannon, of about a yard in length. All the men, except the rowers, had swords, daggers, and shields, lances, bows, and arrows, and some had guns.
These canoes came up to the ship and rowed round her in solemn procession, to the great admiration of all on board, who had never beheld a sight like this. But the admiral said that the vessels reminded him of the descriptions which he had read of the great barges of Venice. As they rowed they did homage to the admiral, the greatest personages beginning, first standing up and bowing their bodies to the ground, the others following in order of rank. Then a messenger came on board, signifying that they had come before the king, who had sent them to conduct our ship into a better anchorage, and desiring that a rope might be given them out that they might, as their king commanded, tow the ship to the place assigned.
Very shortly the king himself came out, having with him in his canoe six grave and ancient fathers, and did himself at once make a reverent kind of obeisance. He was received in the best manner possible. The great guns thundered, and as these had been filled with a large quantity of small shot, they tore up the water in the distance, and made a fine show for these people. The trumpets also, and other instruments of music, sounded loudly, whereat the king was much delighted, and requested that the music might come into a boat. The musicians, at Captain Francis' orders, so did, and laying alongside the king's canoe, were towed behind the ship by the rowers in the three first canoes.
The king and many others came on board, and were bountifully entertained, many presents being given to them. When the anchorage was reached the king asked leave to go on shore, promising that next day he would again come on board, and in the meantime send such victuals as were requested. Accordingly, at night and the next morning large quantities of hens, sugarcanes, rice, figos--which are supposed to have been plantains--cocoas, and sago were sent on board. Also some cloves for traffic; but of these the admiral did not buy many, as he did not wish the ship to be crowded with goods.
At the time appointed, all things being set in readiness, the admiral looked for the king's return; but he failed to keep his promise, to the great discontent and doubt on the part of the crew. The king's brother came off, to invite Captain Drake to land and visit him; but this brother, who seemed to be an honest gentleman, himself, whispered a few words in confidence to the admiral, warning him that it would be better that he should not go on shore. With his free consent the admiral retained this nobleman as a pledge, and then although, in consequence of the king's bad faith, he resolved not to land himself, he sent many of his officers, who were conducted with great honor to the large and fair house inhabited by the king, where at least a thousand people were gathered.
The king was seated in a great chair of state, and many compliments were exchanged between him and the English. The king was now attired in his full state; having, from the waist to the ground, a robe of cloth of gold; with many rings of plated gold on his head, making a show something like a crown. On his neck he had a chain of perfect gold, the links very large. On his left hand were a diamond, an emerald, a ruby, and a turquoise, and on his right hand many beautiful gems. Thus it will be seen that the king of these islands was a potentate of no mean grandeur.
Most of the furniture and decorations of the court were obtained from the Portuguese, during the time that they inhabited the island. Had they not followed the tyrannous ways of their people, they might have remained there in fair comfort; but, desiring to obtain the entire authority, they had killed the late king. This cruelty, however, had brought about a different end to that which they had expected; for the people, headed by the king's eldest son, had risen against them in great force, had killed many, and had driven the rest from the island; placing the king's son upon the throne, who had become the deadly enemy of the Portuguese, and was now preparing an expedition to drive them from Tidore.
The religion of these people was that of the Mussulmans, and the rigor with which they fasted--it being, at the time of the English visit, one of their festivals--greatly astonished those who saw them; for, during the whole time, they would eat nothing between morning and night; but the appetite with which they devoured many meals, throughout the night, almost equally astonished the British.
While the Golden Hind lay in the harbor of Ternate, they received a visit from a Chinese gentlemen of high station, and who was assuredly the first Chinaman who ever came in contact with one of our race. His reason for being at the Moluccas was singular. He had been a man of great rank in his own country, but was accused of a capital crime; of which, though innocent, he was unable to free himself. He then implored the emperor to allow him to leave the country, placing the proof of his innocence in the hands of Providence; it being a bargain that, if he could bring back to the emperor strange and wonderful tidings of things new to him, such as he had never heard of, he should be restored to his place and honors, and held to be acquitted of that crime. If such news could not be gained by him he was to remain in exile, and to be accounted guilty of that of which he was accused.
Coming on board, he very earnestly entreated the admiral to give him the account of his adventures, from the time of leaving his country. This Captain Drake willingly did; and the Chinaman, in great delight, exclaimed that this was fully sufficient for him to bear back to the emperor. He gave a very warm and pressing invitation to Sir Francis to bring the ship to China, where he assured him of a welcome at the hands of the emperor.
Had Captain Drake been able to accede to this proposition, it is probable that our dealings with the East, on a large scale, might have begun some centuries earlier than they did; but the Golden Hind was much battered by the voyage she had gone through, being, indeed, not a new ship when she started. The crew, too, were all longing to get home, and the treasure which had been gathered from the Spaniards was ample for all their desires. The admiral, therefore, although truly he longed to see this country, and to open relations between it and the Queen, was yet forced to decline the invitation, and so to depart on his westward voyage.
The Golden Hind now made slow progress through the water, her bottom being foul with weeds and other things which had attached themselves to it during its long voyage. The captain therefore determined to enter the first harbor in an uninhabited island that he came to, for at none of the places at which he had hitherto touched had he ventured to take this step. However friendly the inhabitants might have appeared, some causes of quarrel might have arisen; and with the ship hauled up and bent over, it might have fallen into the hands of the natives, and so been destroyed, and all return to England cut off from him.
Five days after leaving Ternate he found such a place and, fetching up in a small harbor, the whole party landed, pitched tents, and entrenched themselves. Then they took the casks and water vessels ashore and thoroughly repaired them, trimmed the ship and scraped her bottom, and so put her in a state to perform the rest of the voyage.
Greatly here were the crew astonished by the first sight of fireflies, creatures which were new to them all. This island swarmed with crayfish, of a size sufficient to satisfy four hungry men at dinner. These creatures never went into the sea, but kept themselves on land, digging holes in the roots of the trees, and there lodging, numbers together. Strangely enough, too, these crayfish, when they found themselves cut off from their natural retreats, climbed up trees, and there concealed themselves in the branches.
On December the 12th they again set sail, being now among the Celebes, where they found the water shoal and coasting very dangerous. The wind, too, was high and contrary, and their difficulties greater than anything they had found. On January the 9th the wind, however, came aft, and they appeared to have found a passage out of these dangers, sailing then at full speed.
They were, at the first watch at night, filled with consternation at a crash, followed by silence; and the vessel was found to have run high upon a reef, of which the surface had presented no indication.
Not since the Golden Hind had left England had her strait been as sore as this. The force with which she had run upon the reef seemed to have carried her beyond all hope of extrication. All considered that death was at hand, for they hardly hoped that the ship could hold long together. The admiral at once, to still the confusion which reigned, ordered all to prayers; and the whole, kneeling on the deck, prayed for mercy, preparing themselves for imminent death. Presently, having finished praying, the admiral addressed them in a consoling speech; and then, their courage being much raised, all bestirred themselves to regard the position.
The pumps were first tried and the ship freed of water, and to their great joy they found that the leakage was no greater than before, and that the rocks had not penetrated through the planks. This appeared to all on board to be an absolute miracle, wrought in their favor; for it seemed impossible to them that, running at so high a rate of speed, the vessel could have failed to break herself against the rocks. It is probable that, in fact, the ship had struck upon a newly-formed coral reef; and that the coral--which, when first made, is not very hard--had crashed to pieces under the shock, and so she lay in safety upon the bed of pounded fragments.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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19
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: South Sea Idols.
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When order and tranquility were perfectly restored, the admiral ordered a boat to be lowered and soundings to be taken, intending to put out the anchors ahead, and to get her off by working upon them with the windlass. It was found, however, that under the forefoot of the vessel the water deepened so rapidly that, at a distance of a few fathoms, no soundings could be obtained. This plan, therefore, was abandoned.
The prospect seemed dark, indeed. The ship's boats would, at most, only carry half the men on board; and if the ship had to be abandoned, the whole of her treasures must be lost, as well as many lives.
"There is an island far away to the south," the admiral said. "If the worst come, we must seek refuge on that. It will be well to send a boat to examine it, and see what capabilities it offers for the purpose. Then if the weather holds fair we can make several trips, and land our men, and a portion at least of our valuables."
"Will you let me go, sir, with my three friends?" Ned asked. "The canoe which we took from our last halting place will carry the four of us and, as she paddles swiftly, we may be back before many hours."
"The idea is a good one," Captain Drake said. "Make for the island. It is, I should say, fifteen miles off. When you have reached it, see if there be water, fuel, and other necessaries, and whether the landing be good. If you should come upon any natives, parley with them. Take a few articles as presents, and explain to them, if they will come out here with their canoes and aid to bring the things ashore, we will give them presents, which will make them wealthy beyond their grandest dreams.
"Be careful, my boys. I know that you will be brave, if necessary; but care and caution are the great things, and remember that our safety depends upon yours."
The young men speedily lowered the canoe, under the shelter of the lee side of the ship, took some beads, calicoes, and other articles, and then, seating themselves in the boat, paddled rapidly away. At first they felt a little awkward in using the paddles, in which they had had no practice, whatever. But being powerful men, and accustomed to the use of oars, they soon fell into regular stroke, and the light boat danced rapidly over the waters. The distance was further than Captain Drake had imagined, the clearness of the air making the land appear nearer than it really was; and it was only after three hours of hard work that they neared it.
It turned out to be an island of about a mile in length, so far as they could judge. A reef of coral ran round it. The center of the island was somewhat elevated, and was covered with coconut trees; and it was this, alone, which had enabled it to be seen, from so great a distance, from the deck of the Golden Hind.
Paddling round the reef, they came to an opening and, entering this, found themselves in perfectly smooth water, and were soon on shore.
"Our best way to look for water," Ned said, "will be to follow the beach all round the island. If there is any stream, we must then come upon it. We had better take our arms, and haul up the canoe."
Ned, although the youngest of the party, being an officer of the ship, was naturally in command.
"It will be hard," Reuben said, "if we do not meet with some adventure. This is the first time that I have been out with you, Ned. The others have had their share, and it will be hard upon me if, when I get home, I have not some tale to tell my friends."
"I hope that it will not be so," Ned said, "for more than story telling depends upon our success. I fear the Golden Hind is fixed fast, and that all the fruits of our expedition are lost, even if our lives be saved. Everything depends upon the report we may make when we return; and anything that should occur to delay us, or to prevent our bearing back tidings of this place to the admiral, would be bad fortune, indeed."
"I don't mean," Reuben said, "anything that would prevent our returning. But we might do something, and yet return safely."
A walk round the island showed no signs of water; nor, although they searched for some hours, walking backwards and forwards across it, could they find any sign of a pool. It was clear that there were no fresh-water springs on the island, and that the vegetation depended entirely upon the rain that fell in the regular season. But they discovered, from the top of the island, another and much larger one; lying, still again, some fifteen miles to the south.
After much deliberation, they determined to make for this; as it was of importance that they should have some news, of a place to which the goods could be transported, to carry back to the ship. This island was much higher, and there appeared every probability that water, and all they required, would be found there. Accordingly, taking their place in the canoe, they again paddled out through the entrance to the reef, and steered their course for their new discovery.
This was a large island, measuring at least, as they judged from the view of the one side, twenty miles round. The shores were steep, and they rowed for some time before they succeeded in finding a place where a landing could be effected. Then a deep bay suddenly opened out, and into this they rowed.
Scarcely had they fairly entered it when, from some bushes near the shore, two large war canoes, crowded with natives, shot out and made towards them. The lads at first grasped their muskets, but Ned said: "Let the arms be. We are here to make peace with the natives, and must take our chance."
They stood up in the canoe, holding up their arms in token of amity. The canoes came alongside at racing pace, the natives uttering yells of joy. The canoe had evidently been seen approaching the island, and preparations had been made to seize it, immediately on its arrival.
Ned held up in his hands the beads and pieces of cloth. But the natives were too excited for pause or negotiation. In an instant the boys were seized and placed on board the canoes, two in each. They were tenderly handled, and were clearly objects of veneration rather than of hostility. The moment that they were on board, the contents of the canoe were transferred to the large boat; and it was then cast adrift, and the two war boats, at full speed, made out through the passage.
Ned endeavored, in vain, to attract the attention of the leaders of the savages to his gestures; and to explain to them that there was a vessel, from which he had come, at a short distance off; and that, if they would accompany him thither, they would obtain large quantities of the beads and cloth which he showed them. The natives, however, were too much excited to pay any attention to his efforts; and with a sigh of despair he sat down by the side of Reuben, who was in the same boat with him; as the canoes, on emerging from the bay, turned their heads to the southwest, and paddled steadily and rapidly away from the island.
"Whither can they be going to take us?" Reuben said.
"They must belong to some other island," Ned answered, "and be a war party, which has come on plundering purposes here. What a misfortune! What terribly bad luck! They have clearly never seen white men before, and regard us as superior beings; and so far as we are concerned, it is probable that our lives are safe. But what will the admiral think, when night comes on and we do not return? What will become of our comrades?"
And at the thought of their messmates, left without help in so perilous a position, Ned fairly broke down and cried.
For some hours the natives continued their course without intermission, and gradually an island, which had at first seemed like a low cloud on the horizon, loomed up nearer and nearer; and at last, just as night fell, they landed upon its shores. Here in a bay a village of huts, constructed of the boughs of trees, had been raised; and the arrival of the war canoes was greeted, with wild and prolonged cries, by the women and children. All prostrated themselves in wonder and astonishment when the white men, in their strange attire, were brought on shore; and Ned saw that his suspicions were correct, and that they were regarded by their captors as gods. Further proof was given of this when they were escorted to a large shed, composed of a roof of thatch supported on four upright posts, which stood in the center of the village.
Under this were placed some of the hideous effigies which the South Sea Islanders worship, and which are affixed to the prow of their boats; and may be seen in the British Museum, and in other places where collections of Indian curiosities are exhibited. These effigies were carved in the shape of human beings, with enormous goggle eyes, splashes of bright paint, and strange and immense headdresses of brilliant colors.
Here the lads were motioned to sit down, and the natives brought them offerings of cocoas, and other fruits. The boys could hardly help laughing at their strange position, surrounded by these hideous idols.
"You wanted an adventure, Reuben, and you have got one, indeed," Ned said. "You are translated into a heathen god and, if you ever get home, will have your story to tell, which will astonish the quiet firesides in Devonshire."
"Ought we not to refuse to accept this horrid worship?" Gerald said.
"I think not," Ned replied. "It can do no harm; and we are, at least, better than these wooden idols. So long at least as we are taken for gods, our lives are safe. But I would not say as much if they once became convinced, by our actions, that we are men like themselves."
"But we cannot sit here, all our lives, among these idols," Reuben said.
"I agree with you there, Reuben; but patience does wonders, and I am not troubled in the least about ourselves. Sooner or later, a way of escape will present itself; and when it does, be assured that we will use it. Patience is all that we require, now. It is of our poor shipmates that I am thinking."
As night fell, great bonfires were lighted. The natives indulged in wild dances round them, and feasting and festivities were kept up all through the night. Four watches were stationed, one at each post of the temple; and the boys saw that, for the present, at least, all thought of escape was out of the question. And therefore, stretching themselves at full length on the sand, they were speedily asleep.
For some days, the position remained unchanged. The boys were well fed, and cared for. Offerings of fruit, fish, and other eatables were duly presented. A perfumed wood which, according to the native ideas, personified incense, was burned in large quantities round the temple, and nearly choked the boys with its smoke.
Upon the fifth day, it was clear that some expedition was being prepared. Four large war canoes were dragged down and placed in the water; and the great idols, which stood in the bow of each, were removed and carried up to the temple, and placed there in position. Then the boys were motioned to come down to the beach.
"I do believe," said Tom, bursting into a shout of laughter, "that they are going to put us in the bows of their canoes, in place of their old gods."
The others joined in the laughter, for to act as the figurehead of a canoe was indeed a comical, if an unpleasant situation.
When they reached the boats, the boys saw that their suspicions were correct, and that the natives were preparing to lash them to the lofty prows; which rose, some twelve feet above the water, in a sweep inwards.
"This will never do," Tom said. "If we are fastened like that, our weight will cut us horribly. Let us show them how to do it."
Whereupon, with great gravity he took a large piece of flat wood, and motioned to the savages to lash this in front of the bow of one of the boats, at a height of three feet above the water, so as to afford a little platform upon which he could stand. The natives at once perceived the drift of what he was doing, and were delighted that their new deities should evince such readiness to fall in with their plans. The additions were made at once to the four canoes; but while this was being done, some of the leading chiefs, with every mark of deference, approached the boys with colored paints; and motioned, to them, that they would permit them to deck them in this way.
Again the boys indulged in a hearty laugh and, stripping off their upper garments, to the immense admiration of the natives. They themselves applied paint in rings, zigzags, and other forms to their white shirts; painted a large saucer-like circle round the eyes with vermilion, so as to give themselves something the appearance of the great idols; and having thus transmogrified themselves, each gravely took his place upon his perch; where, leaning back against the prow behind them, they were by no means uncomfortable.
"If these fellows are going, as I expect, upon a war expedition," Ned shouted to his friends, as the boats, keeping regularly abreast, rowed off from the island; amidst a perfect chaos of sounds, of yells, beatings of rough drums made of skins stretched across hollow trunks of trees, and of the blowing of conch shells; "our position will be an unpleasant one. But we must trust to circumstances to do the best. At any rate, we must wish that our friends conquer; for the next party, if we fall into their hands, might take it into their heads that we are devils instead of gods, and it might fare worse with us."
It was manifest, as soon as they started, that the object of the expedition was not the island upon which they had been captured, but one lying away to the south. It was a row of several hours before they approached it. As they did so, they saw columns of smoke rise from several points of the shore, and knew that their coming there was observed by the islanders.
Presently six canoes, equally large with their own and crowded with men, were observed pulling out, and yells of defiance came across the water.
"It is clear," Tom said, "that this island is stronger than our own; and that it is only on the strength of our miraculous presence that the islanders expect to conquer their foes; for they would never, with four canoes, venture to attack a place of superior force, unless they deemed that their victory was certain."
With wild yells, which were answered boldly from their own canoes, the enemy approached, and the combat began with a general discharge of arrows. Then the canoes rowed into each other, and a general and desperate hand-to-hand combat commenced. The enthusiasm with which the inmates of the boys' canoes were animated at first gave them the superiority, and they not only beat back the attacks of their foes but, leaping into their enemy's boats, succeeded in clearing two of them of their occupants. Numbers, however, told; and the enemy were, with very heavy clubs and spears, pointed with sharp shells, gradually forcing the adventurers back; when Ned saw that a little supernatural interference was desirable, to bring matters straight again. Giving the word to his friends, he stood up on his perch and, swinging himself round, alighted in the boat; giving as he did so a loud British cheer, which was answered by that of his comrades. Then, with his arms erect, he began to move along the benches of the canoe, towards the conflict which was raging on either side.
The sudden interference of the four deities, at the head of the boat, was received with a yell of terror by the natives who were attacking them; which was increased when the boys, each seizing a club from the hands of a native, jumped into the enemy's canoes, and began to lay about them with all their strength. This was, however, required but for a moment. The sight of so terrible and unexampled an apparition appalled the islanders; who, springing overboard with yells of despair, swam rapidly towards land, leaving their boats in the hands of the victors.
These indulged in wild yells of triumph, knelt before their good geniuses, and then, taking their places, paddled towards the shore. Before they had reached it, however, the defeated savages had landed and, running up to their village, had borne the news of the terrible apparitions which had taken part against them.
The conquerors, on reaching the village, found it deserted; plundered it of a few valuables; carried down all their enemy's gods in triumph into the canoes; and then, having fired the huts, started again, with the ten canoes, towards their own island.
Their triumphant arrival at the village was received with frantic excitement and enthusiasm. The sight of six canoes towed in, by the four belonging to the place, was greeted with something of the same feeling which, in Nelson's time, Portsmouth more than once experienced upon an English vessel arriving with two captured French frigates, of size superior to herself. And when the warriors informed their relatives of the interposition of the white gods in their favor, the latter rose to an even higher estimation in public opinion than before. They were escorted to their shrine with wild dancing and gesticulation, and great heaps of fruit, fish, and other luxuries were offered to them, in token of the gratitude of the people.
But this was not all. A few hours later a solemn council was held on the seashore, and after a time a great hurrying to and fro was visible in the village. Then, to the sound of their wild music, with dancing, brandishing of spears, and the emission of many wild yells, the whole population moved up towards the shrine.
"What can they be going to do now?" Tom said. "Some fresh piece of homage, I should guess. I do wish they would leave us alone. It is annoying enough to be treated as a god, without being disturbed by these constant worshippings."
When the crowd arrived before the shed they separated, and in the midst were discovered four girls. On their heads were wreaths of flowers, and their necks and arms were loaded with necklaces, and shells, and other ornaments.
"Don't laugh, you fellows," said Ned. "I do believe that they have brought us four wives, in token of their gratitude."
The lads had the greatest difficulty in restraining themselves from marring the effect of the solemnity by ill-timed laughter. But they put a great restraint upon themselves, and listened gravely while the chief made them a long harangue, and pointed to the four damsels; who, elated at the honor of being selected, but somewhat shy at being the center of the public gaze, evidently understood that the village had chosen them to be the wives of the gods.
Although the boys could not understand the words of the speaker, there was no question as to his meaning, and they consulted together as to the best steps to be taken, under the circumstances.
"We must temporize," said Tom. "It would never do for them to consider themselves slighted."
After a short consultation, they again took their places in a solemn row, in front of the shed. Reuben, who was the tallest and most imposing of the set, and who was evidently considered by the villagers to be the leading deity, then addressed a long harangue to the chief and villagers. He beckoned to the four girls, who timidly advanced, and one knelt at the feet of each of the whites.
Then Reuben motioned that a hut must be built, close to the shrine; and, pointing to the sun, he traced its way across the sky, and made a mark upon the ground. This he repeated fourteen times, signifying that the girls must be shut up in the hut and guarded safely for that time, after which the nuptials would take place.
"You are quite sure, Ned," he said, pausing and turning round to his friend, "that we shall be able to make our attempt to escape before the end of the fourteen days? Because it would be fearful, indeed, if we were to fail, and to find ourselves compelled to marry these four heathen women."
"We will certainly try before the fourteen days are up, Reuben; but with what success, of course we cannot say. But if we lay our plans well, we ought to manage to get off."
The villagers readily understood the harangue of Reuben, and without delay the whole scattered into the wood and, returning with bundles of palm leaves and some strong posts, at once began to erect the hut. Fires were lighted as the evening came on, and before they ceased their labor the hut was finished.
During this time the girls had remained sitting patiently in front of the shrine. The lads now offered them their hand, and escorted them with grave ceremony to the hut. The palm leaves which did service as a door were placed before it, and the boys proceeded to dance, one after the other in solemn order, fourteen times round the hut.
They then signified to the natives that provisions, fruit, and water must be daily brought for the use of their future wives; and having made another harangue, thanking the natives for their exertions, and signifying future protection and benefits, they retired under the shelter of the shed, and the village subsided to its ordinary state of tranquility.
"There are two difficulties in the way of making our escape," Ned said. "In the first place, it is useless to think of leaving this island, until we have a sufficient stock, of provisions and water to put in a canoe, to last us until we can get back to Ternate. Did we put into any island on the way, our position might be ten times as bad as it now is. Here at least we are well treated and honored and, did we choose, could no doubt live here in a sort of heathen comfort, for the rest of our lives; just as many white sailors on the western isles have turned natives, and given up all thought of ever returning to their own country.
"The Golden Hind was four days on her journey from Ternate to the place where she refitted; another two to the spot where she went on the reef. The wind was very light, and her speed was not above five knots an hour. We should be able to paddle back in the course of ten days, and must take provisions sufficient for that time.
"The first point, of course, will be to find whether the old ship is still on the reef. If she is not there she may have succeeded in getting off, or she may have gone to pieces. I trust however that the admiral, who is full of resource, has managed to get her off in safety. He will, no doubt, have spent a day or two in looking for us; but finding no signs of us, in the island to which we were sent, or in the other lying in sight to the southward, he will have shaped his way for the Cape.
"The first difficulty, then, is to procure sufficient provisions. The next is to make our escape unseen. The four natives who, night and day, watch at the corners of this shed, mean it as a great honor, no doubt; but, like many other honors, it is an unpleasant one. Our only plan will be to seize and gag them suddenly, each pouncing upon one.
"Then there is the fear that the natives, who are, I must say, the most restless sleepers I ever saw, may in their wanderings up to look at us find that we have gone, before we are fairly beyond reach of pursuit; for one of their great canoes will travel at least two feet to our one.
"Hitherto we have only taken such provisions, from the piles they have offered us, as were sufficient for our day's wants, and left the rest for them to take away again next morning. In future we had best, each day, abstract a considerable quantity; and place it conspicuously in the center of this shed. The people will perhaps wonder, but will probably conclude that we are laying it by, to make a great feast upon our wedding day.
"As to water, we must do with the calabashes which they bring the day before, and with the milk which the cocoas contain, and which is to the full as quenching as water. With a good number of cocoas, we ought to be able to shift for some days without other food; and there is, indeed, an abundance of juice in many of the other fruits which they offer us."
This programme was carried out. Every morning the lads danced in solemn procession round the hut, lessening their rounds by one each day. Daily the heap of fruit, dried fish, and vegetables under the shed increased; and the natives, who believed that their new deities were intent upon the thoughts of marriage, had no suspicion whatever of any desire, on their part, to escape.
Having settled how to prevent their escape being detected before morning, they accustomed themselves to go to sleep with the cloths, woven of the fiber of the palm with which the natives had supplied them, pulled over their heads.
Seven days after the fight with the other islanders, the lads judged that the pile of provisions was sufficiently large for their purpose, and determined upon making the attempt that night. A canoe of about the size that they desired, which had been used during the day for fishing, lay on the shore close to the water's edge.
They waited until the village was fairly hushed in sleep. An hour later they believed that the four guards--or worshipers, for it struck them that their attendants partook partly of both characters--were beginning to feel drowsy; and each of the boys, having furnished himself with a rope of twisted coconut fiber, stole quietly up to one of these men.
To place their hands over their mouths, to seize and throw them upon their faces, was but the work of a moment; and was accomplished without the least noise, the natives being paralyzed by the sudden and unexpected assault. A piece of wood was shoved into the mouth of each, as a gag; and secured by a string, passing round the back of the head, and holding it in its place. Their arms and legs were tied, and they were set up against the posts, in the same position they had before occupied.
Four of the great effigies were then taken from their places, and laid down upon the ground and covered over with the mats, so that to any casual observer they presented exactly the same appearance as the boys, sleeping there.
Then, loading themselves with provisions, the boys stole backwards and forwards, quietly, to the boat. Once they had to pause, as a sleepless native came out from his hut, walked up to the shrine, and bowed himself repeatedly before the supposed deities. Fortunately he perceived nothing suspicious, and did not notice the constrained attitude of the four guardians. When he retired the boys continued their work, and soon had the whole of the store of cocoas and other provisions in the canoe, together with some calabashes of water.
Then with some difficulty they launched the boat and, taking their places, paddled quietly away from the island. Once fairly beyond the bay, they laid themselves to their work, and the light boat sped rapidly across the waters. In order that they might be sure of striking the point where they had left the ship, they made first for the island where they had been captured, and when day broke were close beside it. They then shaped their course northwards, and after two hours' paddling were in sight of the low island, which they had first visited. By noon they reached the spot where, as they judged, the Golden Hind had gone on the reef; but no sign whatever of her was to be discovered. By the position in which the island they had left lay they were sure that, although they might be two or three miles out in their direction, they must be within sight of the vessel, were she still remaining as they had left her.
There had been no great storm since she had grounded; and it was unlikely, therefore, that she could have gone entirely to pieces. This afforded them great ground for hope that she had beaten off the reef, and proceeded on her voyage. Hitherto they had been buoyed up with the expectation of again meeting their friends; but they now felt a truly unselfish pleasure, at the thought that their comrades and admiral had escaped the peril which threatened the downfall of their hopes, and the termination of an enterprise fairly and successfully carried out, so far.
There was nothing now for them but to make for Ternate. They found no difficulty whatever in doing without water, their thirst being amply quenched by the milk of the cocoas, and the juice of the guavas and other fruits. They paddled for two days longer, working steadily all day and far into the night, and passed one or two islands.
In the course of the next day's passage they went within a short distance of another, and were horrified at seeing, from the narrow bay, a large war canoe put out, and make rapidly towards them.
They had already talked over what would be their best course in such a contingency, and proceeded at once to put their plans into execution. They had, at starting, taken with them a supply of the paints used in their decoration; and with these they proceeded to touch up the coloring on their faces and white shirts, and on the strange ornaments which had been affixed to their heads. Two of them now took their place, one at the stern and the other at the bow of the canoe. The other two stood up, and paddled very quietly and slowly along; and as the canoe approached rapidly, the four broke into a song--one of the old Devonshire catches, which they had often sung together on board ship.
The war canoe, as it approached, gradually ceased paddling. The aspect of this small boat, paddling quietly along and taking no heed of their presence, filled its occupants with surprise. But when the way on their canoe drifted them close to it, and they were enabled to see the strange character of the freight, a panic of astonishment and alarm seized them. That a boat, navigated by four gods, should be seen proceeding calmly along the ocean, alone, was a sight for which Indian legend gave them no precedent whatever; and after gazing for a while, in superstitious dread at the strange spectacle, they turned their boats' head and paddled rapidly back to shore.
For an hour or two the boys continued their course, in the same leisurely manner; but when once convinced that they were out of sight of their late visitors, they again sat down, and the four stretched themselves to their work.
On the evening of that day there was a heavy mist upon the water. The stars were with difficulty seen through it, and the lads were all convinced that a change of weather was at hand. Before nightfall had set in, an island had been seen at a short distance to the north, and they decided at once to make for this; as, if caught in mid ocean by a storm, they had little hope of weathering it in a craft like that in which they were placed; although the natives, habituated to them, were able to keep the sea in very rough weather in these little craft; which, to an English eye, appeared no safer than cockleshells.
The boys rowed with all their strength in the direction in which the island lay, but before they reached it sharp puffs of wind struck the water, and the steerage of the canoe became extremely difficult. Presently, however, they heard the sound of a dull roar, and knew that this was caused by the slow heaving swell, of which they were already sensible, breaking upon a beach.
Ten minutes later they were close to the shore. Had it been daylight, they would have coasted round the island to search for a convenient spot for landing; but the wind was already rising, so fast that they deemed it better to risk breaking up their canoe, than to run the hazard of being longer upon the sea.
Waiting, therefore, for a wave, they sped forward, with all their strength. There was a crash, and then they all leaped out together and, seizing the canoe, ran her up on the beach, before the next wave arrived.
"I fear she has knocked a great hole in her bottom," Reuben said.
"Never mind," Ned replied. "We shall be able to make a shift to mend it. The great point, now, is to drag it up so high among the bushes, that it will not be noticed in the morning by any natives who may happen to be about. Until this storm is over, at any rate, we have got to shelter here."
The canoe, laden as she still was with provisions, was too heavy to drag up; but the boys, emptying her out, lifted her on their shoulders and carried her inland; until, at a distance of some sixty or seventy yards, they entered a grove of coconut trees. Here they laid her down, and made two journeys back to the beach to fetch up their provisions, and then took refuge in the grove; thankful that they had escaped on shore in time, for scarcely had they landed when the hurricane, which had been brewing, burst with terrific force.
Seas of immense height came rolling in upon the shore. The trees of the grove waved to and fro before it, and shook the heavy nuts down, with such force that the boys were glad to leave it and to lie down on the open beach, rather than to run the risk of having their skulls fractured by these missiles from above. The sound of the wind deadened their voices, and even by shouting they could not make themselves heard. Now and then, above the din of the storm, was heard the crash of some falling tree; and even as they lay, they were sometimes almost lifted from the ground by the force of the wind.
For twenty-four hours the hurricane continued, and then cleared as suddenly as it had commenced. The lads crept back to the grove, refreshed themselves with the contents of two or three cocoas apiece, and then, lying down under the canoe, which they had taken the precaution of turning bottom upwards, enjoyed a peaceful sleep till morning.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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20
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: A Portuguese Settlement.
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The day broke bright and sunny. The first care of the boys was to examine their canoe; and they found, as they had feared, that a huge hole had been made, in her bottom, by the crash against the rocks on landing. They looked for some time with rueful countenances at it; and then, as usual, turned to Ned, to ask him what he thought had best be done.
"There can be no doubt," he said, "that the natives make a sort of glue out of some trees or shrubs growing in these islands, and we shall have to endeavor to discover the tree from which they obtain it. We can, of course, easily pull off the bark from some tree, which will do to cover the hole. The great point is to find some substance which will make it water tight."
The grove was a very large one, and appeared to extend along the whole coast. Seaward, it was formed entirely of cocoa trees, but inland a large number of other trees were mingled with the palms. All day the boys attempted to find some semblance of gum oozing from these trees. With sharp pieces of shell they made incisions in the bark of each variety that they met with, to see if any fluid exuded which might be useful for this purpose, but in vain.
"If we can kill some animal or other," Ned said, "we might boil down its sinews and skin and make glue; as Tom and myself did, to mend our bows with, among the Indians on the pampas. But even then, I question whether the glue would stand the action of the water."
As to their subsistence they had no uneasiness. Besides the cocoas, fruit of all sorts abounded. In the woods parrots and other birds flew screaming among the branches at their approach, and although at present they had no means of shooting or snaring these creatures, they agreed that it would be easy to construct bows and arrows, should their stay be prolonged. This, however, they shrank from doing, as long as any possible method of escape presented itself. Were it absolutely necessary, they agreed that they could burn down a tree and construct a fresh canoe; but they were by no means sanguine as to their boat-building capabilities, and were reluctant to give up the idea of continuing their voyage in their present craft, as long as a possibility of so doing remained.
So they passed four days; but succeeded in finding no gum, or other substance, which appeared likely to suit their purpose.
"I should think," Reuben said one day, "that it would be possible to make the canoe so buoyant that she would not sink, even if filled with water."
"How would you do that?" Tom asked. "There are many light woods, no doubt, among the trees that we see; but they would have to remain a long time to dry, to be light enough to be of any use."
"I was thinking," Reuben said, "that we might use coconuts. There are immense quantities upon the trees, and the ground is covered with them, from the effects of the late gale. If we strip off the whole of the outside husk, and then make holes in the little eyes at the top and let out the milk, using young ones in which the flesh has not yet formed, and cutting sticks to fit tightly into the holes, they would support a considerable weight in the water. I should think that if we treated several hundred nuts in this way, put them in the bottom of the canoe, and keep them in their places by a sort of net, which we might easily make from the fibers of the cocoas, the boat would be buoyant enough to carry us."
The idea struck all as being feasible, and Reuben was much congratulated upon his inventive powers. Without delay, they set to work to carry out the plan. A piece of thin bark was first taken and, by means of a long thorn used as a needle, was sewn over the hole in the canoe, with the fibers of the cocoa. Then a large pile of nuts was collected, and the boys set to work at the task of emptying them of their contents. It took them some hours' work to make and fit the pegs. Another two days were spent in manufacturing a net, to stretch across the boat above them.
The nuts were then placed in the boat, the net put into shape and, choosing a calm night for their trial--for they feared, during the daytime, to show themselves beyond the margin of the forest--they placed it in the water, and paddled a short distance out.
They found that their anticipations were justified, and that the flotation of the cocoas was amply sufficient to keep the boat afloat. She was, of course, far lower in the water than she had before been, and her pace was greatly deteriorated. This, however, they had expected and, returning to shore, they watched for the next night. Then, taking in a load of provisions, they started at once upon their way.
It was weary work now, for the water-logged canoe was a very different boat to the light bark, which had yielded so easily to their strokes. Fortunately, however, they met with no misadventure. The weather continued calm. They were unseen, or at least not followed, from any of the islands that they passed on their way. But it was ten days after their final start before a large island, which they all recognized as Ternate, was seen rising above the water.
"Easy all," Ned said. "We may be thankful, indeed, that we have arrived safely in sight of the island. But now that we are close, and there is no fear of tempests, had we not better talk over whether, after all, we shall land at Ternate?"
"Not land at Ternate?" the others exclaimed in consternation; for indeed, the work during the last few days had been very heavy, and they were rejoicing at the thought of an end to their labors "Why, we thought it was arranged, all along, we should stop at Ternate."
"Yes, but we arranged that because at Ternate, alone, there seemed a certainty of a welcome. But, as you know, Tidore only lies twelve miles away from Ternate; and from the position we are now in, it will not be more than five or six miles farther.
"You see, when we were there, the king was preparing for a war with the Portuguese in Tidore, and he would certainly expect us to assist him, and probably to lead his fighting men."
"But we should have no objection to that," Reuben said.
"Not in the least," Ned replied. "But you see, if we are ever to get back to England, it must be through the Portuguese. Their ships alone are to be found in these seas, and were we to join the King of Ternate in an attack upon them, whether successful or not, we could never hope to be received in Portuguese ships; and should probably, indeed, be taken to Goa, and perhaps burned there as heretics, if we were to seek an asylum on board.
"What do you think?"
Viewed in this light, it certainly appeared more prudent to go to Tidore, and after some little discussion the boat's head was turned more to the west, and the lads continued their weary work in paddling the water-logged canoe. So slowly did she move that it was late at night before they approached the island. They determined not to land till morning, as they might be mistaken for natives, and attacked. They therefore lay down in the canoe and went to sleep, when within about a mile of the island; and the next morning paddled along its shore until they saw some canoes hauled up, together with an English boat, and supposed that they were at the principal landing place of the island.
On either side of the landing place the cliffs rose steeply up, at a short distance from the beach. But at this point a sort of natural gap existed, up which the road ascended into the interior of the island. There were several natives moving about on the beach as the boys approached, and one of these was seen, at once, to start at a run up the road. The lads had carefully removed all vestige of the paint from their faces and hands and, having put on their doublets, concealed the strange appearance presented before by their white shirts.
No resistance was opposed to their landing; but the natives motioned to them that they must not advance inland, until a messenger returned from the governor. The boys were only too glad to throw themselves down full length on the soft sand of the beach, and to dry their clothes in the sun; as for ten days they had been constantly wet, and were stiff and tired.
Presently a native came down at a run, and announced that the governor was at hand. Rising to their feet, and making the best show they could in their faded garments, the lads soon saw a Portuguese gentleman, attended by four soldiers, coming down the road between the cliffs.
"Who are you?" he asked in Portuguese, as he reached them, "and whence come you?"
"We are Englishmen," Ned said in Spanish. "We belong to the ship of Captain Drake, which passed by here in its voyage of circumnavigation. By an accident, we in the canoe were separated from the ship and left behind. We have come to seek your hospitality, and protection."
"We heard of an English vessel at Ternate," the governor said, sternly, "some weeks since; and heard also that its captain was making an alliance with the king there, against us."
"It was not so," Ned said. "The admiral stopped there for a few days to obtain supplies such as he needed; but we are not here either to make alliances or to trade. Captain Drake, on starting, intended to voyage round the coast of America; and to return, if possible, by the north. After coasting up the western shores of that continent, he found that it would be impossible to pass round the north, as the coast extended so rapidly toward the north of Asia. He therefore started to return by the Cape, and on his way passed through these islands.
"Had it been part of his plan to make alliances with the King of Ternate, or any other potentate, he would have stopped and done so; and would have given his armed assistance to the king. But his object was simply to return, as quickly as possible. Had there been any alliance made, we should naturally have made for Ternate, instead of this island. But as we have no relations with the king, and seek only means of returning to Europe, we preferred, of course, to come here, where we knew that we should find Christians; and, we hoped, friends."
There was palpable truth in what Ned said; and the governor, unbending, expressed his readiness to receive and help them. He then asked a few more questions about the manner in which they had become separated from their friends; and seeing no advantage in concealing the truth, and thinking perhaps that it would be well, if an opportunity should offer, that the governor should send a vessel to search among the islands near where the wreck took place, and see if any of the crew had sought refuge there, they told him frankly the circumstances under which they had left the Golden Hind.
"It would be sad, indeed," said the Portuguese, "if so grand an expedition, under so noble a commander, should have been wrecked after accomplishing such a work. We in these parts are not friendly to any European meddling. His Holiness the pope granted us all discoveries on this side of the Cape, and we would fain trade in peace and quiet, without interference. But we can admire the great deeds and enterprise of your countrymen; and indeed," he said smiling--for the Portuguese are, as a rule, a very small race--and looking at the bulk of the four young men, which was, indeed, almost gigantic by the side of himself and his soldiers, "I am scarcely surprised, now I see you, at the almost legendary deeds which I hear that your countrymen have performed on the Spanish main.
"But now, follow me to my castle, and I will there provide you with proper appliances. What position did you hold in the ship?"
"We are gentlemen of Devonshire," Ned said, "and bore a share in the enterprise, sailing as gentlemen adventurers under Captain Drake. I myself held the rank of third officer in the ship."
"Then, senors," the Portuguese said, bowing, "I am happy to place myself and my house at your disposal. It may be that you will be able to render me services which will far more than repay any slight inconvenience or trouble to which I may be put, for we hear that the King of Ternate is preparing a formidable expedition against us; and as my garrison is a very small one, and the natives are not to be relied upon to fight against those of the other island, the addition of four such experienced soldiers as yourself will, in no slight degree, strengthen us."
The boys replied that their swords were at the service of their host; and, well content with the turn things had taken, they proceeded with him up the road into the interior of the island.
Upon gaining the higher land, they were surprised at the aspect of the island. In place of the almost unbroken forest which they had beheld, in other spots at which they had landed, here was fair cultivated land. Large groves of spice trees grew here and there, and the natives were working in the fields with the regularity of Europeans. The Portuguese method of cultivating the islands which they took differed widely from that of the English. Their first step was to compel the natives to embrace Christianity. Their second to make of them docile and obedient laborers, raising spice and other products, for which they received in payment calico, beads, and European goods.
The castle, which stood in the center of a small plain, was built of stone roughly hewn; and was of no strength which would have resisted any European attack, but was well calculated for the purpose for which it was designed. It consisted of a pleasant house standing in an enclosure, round which was a wall, some fifteen feet in height, with a platform running behind it, to enable its garrison to shoot over the top. A ditch of some ten feet in depth and fifteen feet wide surrounded it; so that, without scaling ladders to ascend the walls, or cannon to batter holes in them, the place could be well held against any attack that the natives might make upon it.
The garrison was not a formidable one, consisting only of some thirty Portuguese soldiers, whose appearance did not speak much for the discipline maintained. Their uniforms were worn and rusty in the extreme. They were slovenly in appearance, and wore a look of discontent and hopelessness. A large portion of them, indeed, had been criminals, and had been offered the choice of death or of serving for ten years, which generally meant for life, in the eastern seas. Ned judged that no great reliance could be placed upon this army of scarecrows, in the event of an attack of a serious character.
"My men would scarcely show to advantage at home," the governor said, noting the glance of surprise with which the boys had viewed them. "But in a country like this, with such great heat and no real occasion for more than appearances, it is hopeless to expect them to keep up the smartness which would, at home, be necessary. The natives are very docile and quiet, and give us no trouble whatever; and were it not for interference from Ternate, where the people are of a much more warlike nature, the guard which I have would be ample for any purposes. I am expecting a vessel which calls here about once in six months, very shortly, and anticipate that she will bring me some twenty more soldiers, for whom I wrote to the viceroy at Goa when she last called here."
"What is your latest news from Ternate?" Ned asked.
"I have no direct news," he said. "What we know we gather from the natives, who, by means of canoes and fishing boats, are often in communication with those of the opposite island. They tell me that great preparations are being made, that several of the largest-sized canoes have been built, and that they believe, when it is full moon, which is generally the era at which they commence their adventures, there will be a descent upon this island."
"Then you have seven days in which to prepare," Ned said. "Have you been doing anything to enable you to receive them hotly?"
"I have not," the governor said. "But now that you gentlemen have come, I doubt not that your experience in warfare will enable you to advise me as to what steps I had better take. I stand at present alone here. The officer who, under me, commanded the garrison died two months since; and I myself, who was brought up in a civil rather than a military capacity, am, I own to you, strange altogether to these matters."
Ned expressed the willingness of himself and his friends to do all in their power to advise and assist the governor; and with many mutual compliments they now entered the house, where a goodly room was assigned to them; some natives told off as their servants; and the governor at once set two native seamsters to work, to manufacture garments of a proper cut for them, from materials which he had in a storehouse for trading with the neighboring chiefs; who, like all savages, were greatly given to finery. Thus, by the end of the week, the boys were able once more to make a show which would have passed muster in a European capital.
At the governor's request, they had at once proceeded to drill the soldiers, Ned and Gerald taking each the command of a company of fifteen men, as they understood Spanish and could readily make themselves understood in Portuguese, whereas Tom and Reuben knew but little of the Spanish tongue.
"I think," Tom said the first morning to the governor, after the friends had discussed the prospect together, "it would be well to throw up some protection at the top of the road leading from the shore. I should order some large trees to be cut down, and dragged by a strong force of natives to the spot, and there so arranged that their branches will point downward and form a chevaux de frise in the hollow way; leaving until the last moment a passage between them, but having at hand a number of young saplings, to fill up the gap. There are, I suppose, other places at which the enemy could land?"
"Oh, yes," the governor said. "On the other side of the island the land slopes gradually down to the shore, and indeed it is only for a few miles, at this point, that the cliffs rise so abruptly that they could not be ascended. Yet even here there are many points which a native could easily scale; although we, in our accoutrements, would find it impossible."
While Ned and Gerald drilled their men with great assiduity, astonishing the Portuguese soldiers with their energy and authoritative manner, Tom and Reuben occupied themselves in superintending the felling of the trees; and their carriage, by means of a large number of natives, to the top of the road. Preparations were also made for blocking up the lower windows of the house so that, in case of the enemy succeeding in carrying the outer wall, a stout resistance could be made within. Large piles of provisions were stored in the building, and great jars of water placed there.
"Are you sure," Ned asked the governor one evening, "of the natives here? For I own that there appears to me to be a sullen defiance in their manner, and I should not be surprised to see them turn upon us, immediately those from the other island arrive. If they did so, of course our position at the top of the road would be untenable, as they would take us in the rear. However, if they do so, I doubt not that we shall be able to cut our way back to the castle, without difficulty.
"I think that it would be, in any case, advisable to leave at least ten men to hold the castle, while the rest of us oppose the landing."
There were in store four small culverins and several light wall pieces. Two of the culverins were placed on the cliff, one at each side of the path, so as to command the landing. Two others were placed on the roof of the castle, which was flat and terraced. The wall pieces were also cleaned, and placed in position at the corners of the walls; and the boys, having seen that the musketoons and arquebuses of the garrison were in excellent order, and ready for service, felt that all had been done that was possible to prepare for an attack.
The day before the full moon a sentinel was placed at the cliff, with orders to bring word instantly to the castle, in case any craft were seen coming from Ternate, the distance from the cliff to the house being about a mile. A short time after daybreak, next morning, the sentry arrived at full speed, saying that a great fleet of canoes was visible.
Hurrying to the spot with the governor, the lads made out that the approaching flotilla consisted of eighteen great war canoes, each of which, crowded as it was, might contain a hundred men; and in addition to these were a large number of smaller craft. The invading force, therefore, would considerably exceed two thousand men.
Reuben had the command of a gun at one side, Tom at the other, and these now loaded and sighted their pieces, so as to pour a volley of case shot into the canoes when they arrived within a quarter of a mile from shore.
The canoes came along in a dense body, as close together as they could paddle, their rowers filling the air with defiant yells. When they reached the spot upon which the guns had been trained Tom fired his piece, and its roar was answered by wild screams and yells from the crowded fleet. Reuben followed suit, and the destruction wrought by the gnus was at once manifest. Three of the great canoes were broken to pieces, and their occupants swimming in the water climbed into the others, among which also a great many men had been wounded.
The effect of this reception upon the valor of the natives was very speedy. Without a moment's delay they backed off, and were soon seen making out of range of the guns, like a troop of wild fowl scattered by the shot of a fowler.
"They have a horror of cannon," the governor said, exultingly, as he witnessed their departure. "If we had a few more pieces, I should have no fear of the result."
The dispersal of the canoes continued only until they thought that they were out of range; for although the lads now sent several round shot at them, these did not produce any effect, the canoes being but small objects to hit at a distance, when on the move, and the culverins being old pieces, and but little adapted for accurate shooting.
The fleet were soon seen to gather again, and after a little pause they started in a body, as before, along the coast.
"They are going to make a landing elsewhere," Ned said, "and we shall have to meet them in the open. It is a pity that we have no beasts of burden to which to harness our pieces; for as these are only ships' guns, it is impossible for us to drag them at a speed which would enable us to oppose their landing. Where are all the natives?"
At the first alarm a large body of the islanders had assembled upon the cliff, but in the excitement of watching the approaching enemy, their movements had not been noticed. It was now seen that the whole of them had left the spot, and not a single native was in sight.
"I think," Ned said, "we had better fall back and take up a position near the house, and repel their attack with the assistance of the guns mounted there. With muskets only, we should not have much chance of preventing their landing; and indeed they will row much faster along the coast than we could run to keep up with them."
The governor agreed in the justice of Ned's view, and the whole force were now ordered to fall back towards the castle. As they proceeded they saw large bodies of the natives. These, however, kept at a distance; but their exultant shouts showed that they must be considered to have gone over to the enemy.
"I will make you pay for this," the governor said, stamping his foot and shaking his fist angrily in their direction. "Each man shall have to furnish double the amount of spice for half the amount of calico, for the next five years. Ungrateful dogs! When we have done so much for them!"
Ned could scarcely help smiling to himself, at the thought of the many benefits which the Portuguese had bestowed upon these unfortunate islanders, whom they had reduced from a state of happy freedom to one which, whatever it might be called, was but little short of slavery.
It was late in the evening before great numbers of the enemy were seen approaching, and these, swelled as they were by the population of the island, appeared a formidable body, indeed, by the side of the handful of white men who were drawn up to defend the place. The enemy, numerous as he was, appeared indisposed to commence a fight at once, but began, to the fierce indignation of the governor, to cut down the groves of spice trees, and to build great fires with them.
"I don't think that they will attack until tomorrow," Ned said, "and it would be well, therefore, to withdraw within the walls, to plant sentries, and to allow the men to rest. We shall want all our strength when the battle begins."
"Do you think," the governor asked, when they were seated in his room, and had finished the repast which had been prepared, "that it will be well to sally out to meet them in the open? Thirty white men ought to be able to defeat almost any number of these naked savages."
"If we had horses I should say yes," Ned said, "because then, by our speed, we could make up for our lack of numbers; and, wheeling about, could charge through and through them. But they are so light and active in comparison to ourselves that we should find it difficult, if not impossible, to bring them to a hand-to-hand conflict. We have, indeed, the advantage of our musketoons; but I observed at Ternate that many of the men have muskets, and the sound of firearms would therefore in no way alarm them. With their bows and arrows they can shoot more steadily at short distances than we can, and we should be overwhelmed with a cloud of missiles, while unable to bring to bear the strength of our arms and the keenness of our swords against their clubs and rough spears. I think that we could hold the house for a year against them; but if we lost many men in a fight outside, it might go hard with us afterwards."
When morning dawned the garrison beheld, to their dismay, that the Indians had in the night erected a battery at a quarter of a mile in front of the gate, and that in this they had placed the culverins left on the cliff, and a score of the small pieces carried in their war canoes.
"This is the work of the two white men we saw at Ternate," Gerald exclaimed. "No Indian could have built a battery according to this fashion."
As soon as it was fairly light the enemies' fire opened, and was answered by the culverins on the roof of the house. The latter were much more quickly and better directed than those of the Indians, but many of the balls of the latter crashed through the great gates.
"Shall we make a sortie?" the governor asked Ned.
"I think that we had better wait for nightfall," he replied. "In passing across this open ground we should lose many men from the cannon shots, and with so small a force remaining, might not be able to resist the onrush of so great numbers. Let us prepare, however, to prop up the gates should they fall, and tonight we will silence their guns."
At nightfall the gates, although sorely bruised and battered, and pierced in many places, still stood; being shored up with beams from behind. At ten o'clock twenty of the garrison were let down by ropes at the back of the castle, for Ned thought that scouts might be lurking near the gates, to give notice of any sortie. With great precaution and in perfect silence they made a way round, and were within a hundred yards of the battery before their approach was discovered.
Then, headed by the governor, who was a valiant man by nature, and the four English, they ran at great speed forward, and were inside the battery before the enemy could gather to resist them. The battle was indeed a hard one; for the Indians, with their clubs, fought valorously. Reuben and Tom, having been furnished with hammer and long nails, proceeded to spike the guns; which they did with great quickness, their doings being covered, alike, by their friends and by darkness. When they had finished their task they gave the signal, and the Portuguese, being sorely pressed, fell back fighting strongly to the castle, where the gates were opened to receive them. In this sortie they lost eight men.
The next morning at dawn the natives, being gathered in large numbers, came on to the assault, uttering loud and fierce cries. The cannon on the roof, which were under the charge of Tom and Reuben, at once opened fire upon them, while the soldiers upon the walls shot briskly with their musketoons. The natives, however, appeared determined to succeed and, firing a cloud of arrows, pushed forward towards the gate. Among them were borne, each by some thirty natives, long trees; and this party, surrounded by the main body, proceeded rapidly towards the gate, which, damaged as it was, they hoped easily to overthrow.
The fire of the two culverins was, however, so deadly, and the concentrated discharge of the musketoons upon them as they advanced so fatal that, after trying several times to approach close to the gate, the natives dropped the great logs and fled.
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{
"id": "19206"
}
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21
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: Wholesale Conversion.
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That day and the three which followed passed without adventure. The natives were seen ravaging the fields, destroying the plantations, and doing terrible damage, to the intense exasperation of the Portuguese governor. But they did not show any signs of an intention to attack the castle.
"I believe," Ned said on the fourth day, "that they have determined to starve us out. They must know that, however large our stock of provisions, they will not last forever; and indeed they will have learned, from the men who bore them in, something of the amount of stock which we have. It will last, you say, for two months; which would be little enough, were it not that we are expecting the ship you spoke of. If that comes shortly we shall, with the additional force which it is bringing; and the crew, who will no doubt aid; be able to attack them in the open. But were it not for that, our position would be a bad one."
"I fear," Tom said, "that even when the ship arrives, evil may come of it."
"How is that, Tom?" Ned asked.
"The captain will know nothing of what is passing on shore; and if he lands his men incautiously upon the beach, and advances in this direction, the natives will fall upon them and, taking them by surprise, cut them to pieces; and our last hope will then be gone."
"But we might sally out and effect a diversion," Reuben said.
"Yes," Tom replied; "but, unfortunately, we should not know of the arrival of the ship until all is over."
It was clear to all that Tom's view was the correct one, and that the position was much more serious than they had anticipated. For some time the governor and the four young men looked at each other, blankly. The destruction of the reinforcements, which would be followed no doubt by the capture of the ship by the war canoes, and the massacre of all on board, would indeed be fatal to their hopes. After what they had seen of the determination with which the enemy had come up to attack the gate, they were sure that they would fight valiantly, outside.
The question of sallying forth was again discussed, and all were of opinion that, unequal as the fight would be, it were better to attempt to defeat the enemy than to remain quiet, and allow them to triumph over the coming reinforcements.
"Upon what day do you think the ship will arrive?" Ned said, after considerable thought.
"I cannot say to a day," the governor replied; "but she should be here this week. There is no exact time, because she has to touch at several other islands. She leaves Goa always on a certain day; but she takes many weeks on her voyage, even if the wind be favorable She might have been here a week since. She may not be here for another fortnight. But unless something unforeseen has occurred, she should be here by that time; for the winds are steady in these regions, and the rate of sailing regular."
"The one chance appears to me," Ned said, after thinking for some time, "is to give them warning of what is happening here."
"But how is that to be done?" asked the governor.
"The only possible plan," Ned said, "would be for one of us--and I should be ready to accept the duty, knowing more perhaps of the ways of natives than the others--to steal forth from the castle, to make for the shore, and to lie concealed among the woods until the vessel is in sight. If then I could find a canoe, to seize it and paddle off to the ship; if not, to swim."
The other lads eagerly volunteered to undertake the work; but Ned insisted that he was better suited to it, not only from his knowledge of the natives, but from his superior powers in swimming.
"I may have," he said, "to keep myself up in the water for a long time, and perhaps to swim for my life, if the natives see me. It is even desirable, above all things, that whosoever undertakes the work should be a good swimmer; and although you have long ago given up calling me The Otter, I do not suppose that my powers in the water have diminished."
After long consultation, it was agreed that this plan offered more chances of success than any other.
"It would be most desirable," Gerald said, "that we should have some notice, here, of the ship being in sight; in order that we might sally out, and lend a hand to our friends on their arrival. I will, therefore, if you will allow me, go with Ned; and when the ship is in sight, I will make my way back here, while he goes off to the vessel."
"But it will be impossible," Ned said, "to make your way back here in the daytime. I can steal out at night, but to return unnoticed would be difficult, indeed."
"But when you see the ship, Ned, and get on board, you might warn them to delay their landing until the next morning; and in the night I might enter here with the news, and we might sally out at daybreak."
This plan appeared to offer more advantages than any other; and it was agreed, at last, that the two lads should, having darkened their skins and put on Indian dress, steal out that night from the castle and make for the shore. Tom and Reuben regretted much that they could not take part in the enterprise; but the governor assured them that, even were it desirable that four should undertake the mission, they could not be spared, since their presence would be greatly needed in the castle should the natives, before the arrival of the ship, make an attack upon it.
That night Ned and Gerald, according to the arrangement, stole out from the castle. Their skins had been darkened from head to foot. Round their waists they wore short petticoats, reaching to their knees, of native stuff. They had sandals on their feet; for, as Ned said, if they were seen close by the natives they were sure to be detected in any case, and sandals would not show at a short distance, while they would enable them to run at full speed, which they certainly could not do barefooted. They took with them a bag of provisions, and each carried a sword. Reuben had pressed upon them to take pistols also; but Ned said that, if cut off and detected, pistols would be of no use, as nothing but running would carry them through; while should a pistol be fired inadvertently, it would call such a number of assailants upon them that their escape would be impossible. A thrust with a sword did its work silently, and just as well as a pistol bullet.
The natives apparently had no fear of any attempt at a sally from the castle, for there was nothing like a watch set round it; although near the entrance a few men were stationed, to give warning should the garrison sally out to make a sudden attack upon the invaders. The natives were, for the most part, scattered about in small parties, and once or twice the lads nearly fell in with these; but by dint of keeping their ears and eyes open they steered through the dangers, and arrived safely upon the coast, at a point two miles to the west of the landing place.
Here the cliff had nearly sloped away, the height being only some twenty or thirty feet above the water, and being practicable in many cases for descent; while behind lay a large wood in which concealment was easy, except in the case of an organized search, of which they had no fear, whatever.
The next morning they made along the shore as far as the point where the native war canoes had been pulled up, in hopes of finding some canoe small enough for Ned to use for rowing off to the ship. But none of them rowed less than twelve or fourteen paddles, and so cumbrous a boat as this would be overtaken in a very short time, should it be seen making out from shore. Ned therefore determined to swim out, especially as they observed that a watch was kept, both day and night, near the canoes.
Five days passed in concealment. The coconuts afforded them both food and drink. Occasionally they heard the boom of the culverins at the castle, and knew that the natives were showing within range; but as these shots were only heard at times, they were assured that no persistent attack was being made.
It was late in the afternoon of the fifth day that the lads observed a sail in the distance. It was indeed so far away that, as the light was fading, they could not say with absolute certainty that it was the longed-for ship. They both felt convinced, however, that they had seen a sail; and watched intently, as night darkened, for some sign of its passage.
It was four hours later when they saw, passing along at a distance of about half a mile, a light on the ocean which could be no other than that on board a ship.
"Now is the time," Ned said. "I will keep along the shore, under the cliff, until I get nearly to the landing; and will then strike out. Do you make for the castle, and tell them that the ship has arrived, and that we will attack tomorrow; but not at daybreak, as we proposed, but at noon."
As Ned proceeded on his way along the shore, he saw suddenly blaze up, far ahead at the landing place, a small bonfire.
"Ah!" he muttered to himself. "The natives have seen the ship, too; and are following the usual custom, here, of making a fire to show them where to land. I trust that they will not fall into the snare."
When, however, he had reached within a quarter of a mile of the landing, he saw a small boat come suddenly within its range of light, and two white men step out of it. They were received, apparently, with much respect by the natives assembled there, and at once advanced up the road; while the boat, putting off, disappeared in the darkness.
"They will be murdered," Ned said to himself, "before they have gone a hundred yards. The natives were crafty enough to allow them to land without hindrance, in order that no suspicion might arise among those on board ship."
In the stillness of the night he thought that he heard a distant cry. But he was not sure that his ears had not deceived him. Far out he could see a faint light and, knowing that this marked the place where the ship was moored, he prepared to strike out for it.
It was a long swim, and further than he had expected; for in the darkness the captain, unable to see the land, had prudently anchored at a considerable distance from it. Even, however, had it been several times as far, Ned could have swum the distance without difficulty; but the whole way he could not forget that those seas swarmed with sharks, and that any moment he might have to encounter one of those hideous monsters. He had left his sword behind him, but carried a dagger and, as he swam, kept his eyes in all directions, in order that he should not be attacked unprepared.
The ocean was however, fortunately, at that time deserted by these beasts; or if they were in the neighborhood, the quiet, steady, noiseless stroke of the swimmer did not reach their ears.
As he neared the ship his heart rose, and he sang out blithely, "Ship ahoy!"
"Hullo!" was the reply. "Where are you? I cannot see your boat."
"I am swimming," Ned answered. "Throw me a rope, to climb up the side. I have a message from the governor for the captain of the ship."
A minute later Ned stood upon the deck of the Portuguese vessel, the soldiers and sailors looking on wonderingly at him, his body being white, but his face still colored by the preparation.
The captain himself soon appeared.
"I am the bearer of a message to you, senor, from the governor," Ned said. "It is here in this hollow reed. He gives you but few particulars, but I believe tells you that you may place every confidence in me, and that I have detailed instructions from him."
The captain split open the little reed which Ned handed to him, and taking out a paper coiled within it, opened it, and by the light of a lantern read: "We are in a very critical position, and it will need at once courage and prudence to come out of it. I have sent my friend Don Eduardo Hearne, an English gentleman of repute, to warn you against the danger which threatens, and to advise you on your further proceedings. He will give you all particulars."
The captain invited Ned to follow him to his cabin and, calling in the officers, asked for an explanation of this singular visit. Ned briefly entered into an account of the landing of the natives of Ternate, and of the present situation; and the captain rejoiced at the escape, which he had had, from falling into an ambuscade. This he would assuredly have done, had he landed the troops in the morning as he had intended, and marched them inland, fearing no danger, and unprepared for attack.
Ned explained that the plan was that the troops on board the ship should land, and fight their way into the interior; and that, simultaneously, the garrison should sally out and attack the natives in the rear; and fight their way towards each other, until they effected a junction. They could then retire into the castle, where their future plans could be arranged.
"I have, however," Ned said, "ventured to modify that plan, and have sent word to the governor that we shall not attack until noon, instead of landing at daybreak, as before arranged. We have been examining the position where the canoes are lying. They are all hauled up on the beach, in a compact body. It is in a quiet creek, whose mouth you would sail past without suspecting its existence. I cannot say, of course, the depth of water; but these creeks are generally deep, and I should think that there would be enough water for the ship to float. At any rate, should you not like to venture this, your pinnace might row in, carrying a gun in her bow, and might play havoc among the canoes. Or, better still, if you could send two boat loads of men there, tonight, and could manage to land and destroy a portion of the canoes, and launch and tow out the others, I think that we should have a fair chance of getting peace. The natives would be terrified at the loss of their canoes, and would be likely to make any terms which would ensure their return to their island."
The captain at once agreed to the proposition. The three boats of the ship were lowered, and the sailors and soldiers took their places; only two or three being left on board ship, as there was no fear, whatever, of an attack from the shore during the night. Ned took his place in the leading boat of the captain, and acted as guide. They coasted along at a short distance from the land, until Ned told them to cease rowing.
"We must," he said, "be close to the spot now; but it is needful that one boat should go forward, and find the exact entrance to the creek."
Rowing very quietly, the boat in which he was advanced, until within a few yards of the shore; and then proceeded quietly along, for a distance of a few hundred yards, when the black line of shore disappeared, and a streak of water was seen stretching inland. Quietly they rowed back to the other two boats, and the three advancing, entered the creek together.
Before starting, each officer had been assigned his work. The crew of one of the boats, consisting principally of soldiers, were to land, to advance a short distance inland, and to repulse any attacks that the natives might make upon them. Another party were to stave in all the small canoes and, this done, they were to assist the third boat's crew in launching the war canoes into the water.
As they approached the spot they were hailed, in the Indian tongue, by someone on shore. No reply was given, and the hail was repeated louder. Then, as the boats rowed rapidly up to the place where the canoes were hauled up, a shrill yell of alarm was given, which was re-echoed in several directions near; and could be heard, growing fainter and fainter, as it was caught up by men inland.
The moment the boats touched the shore the men leaped out. The soldiers advanced, and took up the position assigned to them to defend the working parties; while the rest set to, vigorously, to carry out their portion of the work. The war canoes were heavy, and each required the efforts of the whole of the crew to launch her into the water. It was, therefore, a work of considerable time to get fifteen of them afloat; and long ere this had been done, the natives, called together by the alarm, were flocking down in great numbers.
They were, however, in entire ignorance as to the number of their assailants; and the fire which the soldiers opened, with their arquebuses, checked them in their advance. Feeling sure that their canoes were being destroyed, they filled the air with yells of lamentation and rage; discharging such volleys of arrows at random, in the direction of the Portuguese, that a great number of these were wounded. Indeed, the natives pressed on with such audacity that a considerable portion of the workers had to go forward, to assist the soldiers in holding them at bay.
At last, however, the whole of the canoes were in the water, and every other boat disabled. The canoes were tied together, five abreast, and one of the boats towed these out of the harbor, while the crews of the others remained, keeping the natives at bay; for it was felt that if the whole were to embark at once, while still encumbered with the canoes, they would be able to get out of the creek but slowly; and would, for the most part, be destroyed by the arrows of the natives.
When the boat had towed the canoes well out to sea, it cast them adrift and returned up the creek. Then, covered by the muskets of the soldiers, the others took their places, in good order and regularity, until at last all were in the boats. The soldiers were ordered to stand up, and to keep up a steady fire upon the shore; while the sailors laid to, with a hearty goodwill.
The natives rushed down to the shore in great numbers, and although many of them must have fallen under the fire of the soldiers, they yet waded into the water, in their anxiety to seize the boats, and poured large numbers of arrows into them.
When the three boats gained the open sea there were few, indeed, of the Portuguese who had not received wounds, more or less severe, by the arrows; and several had been killed, in addition to others who had fallen on shore. The soldiers had suffered much less severely than the sailors; for although they had been more hotly engaged, their breast pieces and steel caps had protected them, and they were principally wounded in the limbs.
The canoes were now picked up, and with these in tow the party returned to the ship. Here their wounds were dressed, by a priest who accompanied the vessel in her voyages, landing at the different stations, and ministering to the garrisons of the islands. He had some knowledge of the healing art, and poured soothing oils into the wounds inflicted by the arrows. The men were much alarmed lest these arrows should be poisoned, but Ned assured them that none of those who had been wounded, during the attacks on shore, had died from the effects; and that, although it was the custom in many of these islands to use poisoned weapons, the people of Ternate, at least, did not practice this barbarous usage.
Morning was just breaking as the party gained the ship, and the captain was glad that Ned had postponed the landing until midday; as it gave the tired men time to rest, and prepare themselves for fresh labors.
As soon as the shore could be seen, it was evident that the destruction and carrying off of the canoes had created an immense impression. The cliff was lined with natives, whose gesticulations, as they saw their canoes fastened to the stern of the ship, were wild and vehement.
A little before noon the boats were hauled up alongside, the soldiers took their places in them with loaded arquebuses, and as many sailors as could be spared also entered, to assist in their advance. The ship carried several pieces of artillery, and these were loaded, so as to open fire before the landing was effected, in order to clear the shore of the enemy. This was soon accomplished, and the natives who had assembled on the beach were seen, streaming up the road through the cliff.
This was the most dangerous part that the advancing party would have to traverse, as they would be exposed to a heavy fire, from those standing above them, on both flanks. They would have suffered, indeed, very severely, had not the captain turned his guns upon the masses gathered on the high ground and, by one or two lucky shots plumped into the middle of them, created such an effect that the fire of arrows kept up upon the troops, as they advanced, was wild and confused.
Several of the sailors were severely wounded, but the soldiers, well sheltered by their mail, pressed on and gained the level ground; their blood being fired, as they went, by the spectacle of the dead bodies of their first officer and supercargo, who had landed the night before.
Here the natives were assembled in great force and, as they were now out of sight of those on board ship, the guns could no longer render assistance to the little party. These showed a good front as the masses of the enemy approached them, and charged boldly at them.
The natives, however, maddened by the loss of their canoes, and feeling that their only hope was in annihilating their enemies, came on with such force, wielding heavy clubs, that the array of the Portuguese was broken, and in a short time each was fighting desperately for himself. Several had been stricken down and, although large numbers of the natives had been killed, it was plain that the victory would in a few minutes be decided; when suddenly a great shout was heard, and a volley of musketry was poured into the rear of the natives.
The hard-pressed whites gave a cheer, for they knew that assistance had arrived from the castle. The natives, whose attention had been directed to the attack in front, were taken completely by surprise; and as both the parties of whites simultaneously charged, large numbers were unable to escape and were cut down, while the rest fled precipitately from the spot.
Very hearty were the congratulations of the Portuguese, as the forces came together. Gerald had safely reached the castle, after some narrow escapes. He, having fallen among some sleeping natives, had been attacked and forced to trust to his speed.
After a short consultation it was decided to press the enemy, and to leave them no time to recover from the demoralization caused by the loss of their boats, and the junction of the two parties of white men. The forces were, therefore, divided into two equal parts, and these started in different directions. Clump after clump of trees was searched, and the enemy driven from them. At first some resistance was made; but gradually the natives became completely panic stricken, and fled without striking a blow.
Until nightfall the two parties continued to hunt, and shoot down, a large number of the natives. Then they returned to the castle. They now had a consultation as to the terms which they should grant the natives; for they had no doubt that victory had declared itself, finally, in their favor Some were for continuing the strife until the enemy were exterminated; but the governor of the island was opposed to this.
"In the first place," he said, "mixed up with the Ternate people are all the natives of this island, and to exterminate them would be to leave us without labor, and to ruin the island. In the next place, the havoc which has been already wrought in our plantations is such that it will take years to repair; and the longer this fighting goes on, the more complete will be the destruction. I think, then, that we should grant them the easiest terms possible. They will be only too glad to escape, and to get back to their own land, and will be long before they invade us again."
"I think," the officer who had arrived with the reinforcements of soldiers said, "it would be well, senor, if you were to consult with the priest who is on board. He is a man who has the ear of the council at Goa. He was but recently arrived, and knows but little of the natives; but he is full of zeal, and it would be well, I think, were we to make an arrangement of which he would perfectly approve; so that his report, when he reached Goa, should be altogether favorable" The governor agreed to this proposal, and decided to send a party down to the shore, in the morning, to bring the priest up to the castle.
Early in the morning, a large crowd of natives were seen at a short distance. In their hands they held boughs of trees, and waved them to express their desire to enter into negotiations. The governor, however, fired two or three shots over their heads, as a signal to them to keep farther away, as their advances would not be received. Then, while a party went down to the shore to fetch the priest, he again sallied out and drove the natives before him.
When the holy father arrived another council was held, and he was informed that the people were ready to treat, and asked what, in his opinion, should be the terms imposed upon them. He heard the arguments of the governor, in favor of allowing them to return to their island, but he said: "In my opinion it is essential, above all things, that they should be forced to accept Christianity."
At this the Englishmen, and indeed the two Portuguese officers, could with difficulty repress a smile; but the governor at once saw that a wholesale conversion of this sort would do him much good with the authorities at Goa, and he therefore willingly fell into the priest's views.
The next morning the natives again appeared with their green boughs; and the governor, with the officer, the priest, and a body of ten soldiers, went out to meet them. The King of Ternate advanced, and bowed himself submissively to the ground, and expressed his submission; and craved for pardon, and for permission to return with his people to Ternate, promising solemnly that never again would they meddle with the Portuguese settlement.
The governor, who spoke the language fluently, having been there for some years, uttered an harangue reproaching him with his folly, and wickedness, in wantonly declaring war against the Portuguese. He pointed to the destroyed plantations, and asked if any punishment could be too great for the ruin caused.
The king and his councilors offered to pay large tributes, annually, of spice and other products, until the ruined plantations were again in bearing.
"This will not repay us for the losses we have suffered, and for the evil spirit which you have introduced into this island.
"We have, however," the governor said, "only your interests at heart; and therefore we have decided to pardon you, and to allow you to return to your island, upon the condition that you and all your people embrace Christianity, and pay such a tribute as we may impose."
The king had no understanding of the meaning of what was proposed to him, and the governor said that he and his people were, in the morning, to assemble before the castle, and that the holy father, who had been sent on purpose to turn them from the wickedness of their ways, would then explain the doctrines of Christianity to them; that if they accepted and believed what he said, pardon would be theirs; if not, they would be hunted down until all were destroyed.
Next morning the assembly took place in front of the castle gate. The King of Ternate, surrounded by all his principal councilors and warriors, took his place, while the fighting men stood around him. The priest mounted on the platform of the wall, the governor standing beside him to interpret.
The Englishmen, much amused at the ceremony, stood at a short distance off. They did not wish to be recognized by any of the people of Ternate, as it was possible that some English vessels might again come into these seas, and they did not desire that the pleasant remembrance of the visit of the Golden Hind should be obliterated, by the sight of some of its crew in alliance with the Portuguese.
The priest began an elaborate explanation of the Christian religion, which he continued for the space of two hours; to the surprise and astonishment of the natives, who could not, of course, comprehend a single word that he said. Then he paused, and turning to the governor said: "Will you translate this, for the benefit of these benighted heathens?"
"I fear," said the governor, "that it will be impossible for me to do full justice to your eloquent words; and, indeed, that these poor wretches would scarcely take in so much learning and wisdom all at once; but in a few words I will give them the sense of what you have been telling them."
Then, lifting up his voice, he addressed the king.
"There is only one God. These idols of yours are helpless, and useless. We have brought ashore those from your war canoes, which my men will now proceed to burn, and you will see that your gods will be unable to help themselves. Indeed, they are not gods, and have no power. God is good, and hates wickedness. All men are wicked. Therefore He would hate all men; but He has sent His Son down, and for His sake pardons all who believe in Him.
"Now, if you believe in Him, as I tell you, you will be pardoned both by us and by God. If you do not believe, we shall kill you all, and you will be punished eternally. Now you have the choice what to do."
The matter, thus pithily put, did not require much consideration. After a short consultation between the chiefs, the king demanded what ceremonies would have to be gone through, to become Christians; and was informed, by the governor, that the only ceremony would be that he would have to declare himself a Christian; that the priest would make upon him the sign of a cross with his finger, and would sprinkle him with water; and that, when this was done, he would be a Christian.
Much relieved to find that the entry into this new religion was so easy, the king and his people at once agreed to accept Christianity. The governor informed them that the priest thought that they were hardly yet prepared, but that on the morrow the ceremony should take place, after a further explanation.
The next day a great altar was erected outside the walls of the castle, gay with banners and wax lights. Before this the King of Ternate and his people assembled, the gunners on the walls standing, with lighted matches, by their cannon in case of trouble. The priest then made another long oration, which was again briefly and emphatically translated by the governor. The king and all his people then knelt and, according to the instruction of the priest, made the sign of the cross. The priest then went along between the lines of the people, sprinkling them with holy water, and this being done the ceremony was declared complete, and the King of Ternate and his people were received into the bosom of the Church. Then, escorted by the soldier, they were taken down to the seashore.
The two white men were permitted to depart with them. The governor had, at first, insisted that these should be put to death. They pleaded, however, that they had acted under force; and, Ned interceding for them, their lives were granted on the condition that they should, on reaching Ternate, at once embark for some other island, and never return to Ternate.
The canoes were brought alongside and, there being now no fear of any attempt at resistance, as the entire body of invaders had given up their arms, they were allowed to enter the canoes, and to paddle away to their own island; with numbers greatly diminished from those which had landed, to the attack of Tidore, a week before.
The governor and the priest were, alike, delighted at the termination of the war; the former because he was really anxious for the good of the colony which had been entrusted to him, and believed that it would now progress peaceably, and without disturbance. He believed, too, that his successful resistance, to so large a body of enemies, would insure him the approval of the viceroy at Goa; and that the report of the priest would also obtain for him the valuable protection and patronage of the ecclesiastics, whose power in the eastern seas was even greater than it was at home.
Tidore was the furthest of the Portuguese settlements, and the ship, having now made her round, was to return direct to Goa. The priest hesitated whether to remain, or to return in her. He had made it one of the conditions of peace with Ternate that a missionary should be received there, a place of worship erected, and that he should be allowed to open schools, and to teach the tenets of his religion to all; and he hesitated whether he would, himself, at once take up that post, or whether he would report the matter at Goa, where perhaps it might be decided to send a priest who had acquired something of the language of the Southern Seas. He finally decided upon the latter course.
The governor furnished the lads with letters, recommending them most warmly to the viceroy, and stating the great services which they had rendered to him in the defense of the island; saying, indeed, that had it not been for their prudence, and valor, it was probable that the natives would have succeeded in destroying the small body of Portuguese, and in massacring the reinforcements landed from the vessel. The priest also, while viewing the young men with the natural horror of a Portuguese ecclesiastic for heretics, was yet impressed with the services that they had rendered; and considered their own shortcomings to be, in a great measure, atoned for by the wholesale conversion which had, to some extent, been effected by their means.
Bidding a hearty adieu to the governor, they took their places on board ship and sailed for Goa. It was a six weeks' voyage, but the vessel was well furnished with provisions and, after their hardships, the boys greatly enjoyed the rest and tranquility on board. In due time they found themselves lying off the mouth of the river up which, at a short distance from its mouth, the capital of Portuguese India was situated.
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The captain, who was accompanied by the priest, rowed up the river to report the arrival of the ship and the events of his voyage to the authorities, and to place in their hands the letter of the governor of Tidore. Twenty-four hours later the captain returned, with orders for the ship to sail up the river; and that, on their arrival, the young Englishmen were to be landed and conducted to the presence of the viceroy himself.
The young adventurers, much as they had traveled, were greatly struck with the appearance of Goa. It was, indeed, a city of palaces, most solidly built of stone, and possessing an amount of magnificence and luxury which surpassed anything they had ever seen. In the streets a few Portuguese, magnificently dressed and escorted by guards, moved among a throng of gaily attired natives; whose slight figures, upright carriage, and intelligent faces struck the boys as most pleasing, after their experience of the islanders of the South Seas. The immense variety of turbans and headgear greatly astonished them, as well as the magnificence of the dresses of some of these, who appeared to be men of importance and who were attended by a retinue of armed followers.
The young men were escorted by two officers of the viceroy, who had come on board ship as soon as she dropped anchor, to conduct them to his presence. At the sight of these officials the natives hastily cleared the way, and made every demonstration of respect, as the party passed through them.
The vice-regal palace was a magnificent building, surpassing any edifice the boys had ever seen, and they were still more struck by the luxury of the interior. They were led through several vestibules, until at last they arrived in a large chamber. At a table here the viceroy was seated, while around him were a large number of the councilors and leading men of the place. The viceroy rose as the young men advanced, and bowed profoundly.
"You are, I hear, Englishmen; and I am told, but I can scarcely believe it, that you belong to the ship of the Captain Drake whose exploits in the West Indies, against the Spaniards, have made him so famous. But how, belonging to him, you came to be cast on an island in the South Seas is more than we are able to understand."
No news of the expedition had reached the Portuguese, and the surprise of the viceroy was only natural.
"The Golden Hind, sir, the vessel in which we were gentlemen adventurers, rounded Cape Horn, sailed up the American coast, and then, keeping west, crossed through the islands; and has, we trust, long since rounded the Cape of Good Hope and arrived in England, having circumnavigated the globe."
An expression of surprise broke from the assembled Portuguese. But a frown passed over the face of the viceroy.
"What was the object of your captain, in visiting these seas?" he asked "They are the property of Portugal, and without the permission of his majesty, no ship of any other nation may pass through our waters."
"I can assure you," Ned said, "that there was no object, either of conquest or of trade, on the part of our admiral in visiting these seas. When he rounded the Cape his object was to discover, if possible, a passage round the northern coast of America back to England. But when we went north we found the cold was great, and that the land stretched away so that it would join with Asia to the north. Being convinced, then, that no passage could be obtained in that way, he sailed for England round the Cape of Good Hope, fearing the dangers of a passage round the Horn, by which he lost on our passage out two of his ships, and was well-nigh wrecked himself. He only abode in the islands of the South Seas for a few days, to get provisions and water, and then sailed straight for home."
Assured by this explanation, the viceroy now begged the boys to sit down, and he and his council listened with admiration and astonishment to the records of the expedition, and especially to the passage across America of two of the young men before him. The depredations which had been committed upon the Spaniards excited no indignation among the Portuguese; for these nations were rivals, and although they did not put their contentions to the test of the sword, each was glad enough to hear of any misfortune befalling the other.
The viceroy now assured the young men that he was proud to welcome the members of so gallant a crew as that of the great English navigator.
"England and Portugal," he said, "did not clash, and were always natural allies."
He trusted they would always remain so, and in the meantime he should be glad to treat the boys with all honor, and to forward them home by the first ship which might be sailing.
Apartments were now assigned to them in the palace, and here they were delighted to find a stock of clothes suited for them.
For the next fortnight they passed a pleasant time at Goa. They were the objects of much attention on the part of the Portuguese, and all vied in the attempt to make their stay pleasant to them. They found that the town of Goa occupied but a small space, and that it was strongly fortified, and the Portuguese made no attempt to conceal their very high estimate of the fighting power of the natives. One young officer, who was specially told off to accompany the lads, and who spoke Spanish fluently, was particularly frank in his description of the state of affairs.
"All these gaily dressed natives that one sees in the streets are, I suppose, Christians?" Ned asked.
"No, indeed," the other said surprised. "What should make you think so?"
Ned replied that, in America, he had found that the Spaniards insisted on all the natives at once embracing Christianity, on pain of death.
"The Spaniards," the young Portuguese said, "are lords and masters there. The natives are weak and timid, and able to offer no resistance, whatever. That is very far from being our position here. We are, I can assure you, only here on sufferance. You can have no idea of the power of some of these native sovereigns of India. The Mahrattas, who live beyond the mountains you see on the horizon, could pour down such hosts of armed men that, if they combined against us, no resistance that we could offer would be likely to be successful. And yet they are but one among a score of warlike peoples.
"So long as we do not attempt to proselytize, and are content to appear as merchants and traders, no general feeling exists against our residence here. But I can assure you that, if it became known in India that we were forcing the natives to accept Christianity, the footing which we have obtained here would be speedily lost. These people have regular armies. They may not, indeed, be trained as are ours at home but individually they are very brave. They have artillery of heavy caliber.
"In the South Seas, as you know, we endeavor to convert the heathen. The people there are degraded savages by the side of these Indians. But we do not adopt the strong methods which the Spaniards have done. We have, in Portugal, a good deal of your English freedom of opinion, and the Inquisition has never gained any firm footing amongst us."
Upon one occasion the boys had the satisfaction of seeing a grand Indian durbar; for the chief, on the corner of whose territory the Portuguese had built their town with his permission, came in to see the viceroy. The boys were surprised at the magnificence of his cavalcade, in which elephants, camels, and other animals took part, and in which the trappings and appointments were gorgeous, indeed, while the dresses of the chiefs absolutely shone with jewels. The attendants, however, made but a poor show, according to European ideas.
There was at this time, in European armies, no attempt at regular uniform, but there was a certain resemblance between the attire and arms of the men who fought side by side. When upon the march regularity and order were maintained, and the men kept together in step. Nothing of this kind was apparent among the troops who accompanied the Indian chief. They marched along by the side of the elephants, and in groups ahead and in rear of them, in a confused disorder; and it seemed to the lads that a mere handful of European troops would rout such a rabble as this. They said as much to their Portuguese friend, but he told them that the people on the coast could scarcely be considered as a fair sample of those who dwelt in the hill country behind.
"The climate here," he said, "is much more relaxing. Vegetation is extremely abundant, and all the necessities of life can be obtained in the easiest manner. Consequently the people here are enervated, and cannot be compared to the horsemen of the plains. The seat of the Indian power lies at Agra and Delhi--sometimes one and sometimes the other. The emperors there can take the field with two hundred thousand men, if necessary; and even these, with all their power, have difficulty in maintaining their authority throughout India. You may judge, therefore, of the power of the various territorial chiefs."
A fortnight later, to their great delight, the lads heard that a vessel would start in three days for Lisbon. She was taking home a large cargo of spice, and articles of Indian manufacture, and a number of invalided soldiers. She was said to be a slow sailer, but as no other was likely to start for some months, the lads did not hesitate to avail themselves of the offer of the viceroy.
At parting he presented them each with a sword set with diamonds, and also purses of money, in token of his appreciation of the valor displayed by them in the defense of Tidore.
"It is," the viceroy said, "an honor to us to honor the members of the greatest marine expedition which has yet been made. We Portuguese may boast that we have been among the foremost in maritime discovery, and we can therefore the more admire the feats of your valiant Captain Drake."
The ship, the Maria Pia, was a large one, far greater, indeed, than the Golden Hind, and the boys felt that in a floating castle of this description, their voyage ought to be a safe and pleasant one. The captain had received instructions to do all in his power to make the voyage agreeable to them. A handsome cabin had been placed at their disposal, and their position on board was altogether an honorable one.
The result justified their expectations. The voyage, although long, passed without incident. The Maria Pia experienced fine weather round the Cape and, catching the trade winds, made her course northward, and arrived off the mouth of the Tagus without accident or adventure of any kind.
Sailing up the river, she fired a salute with her guns, which was answered by those of the fort at the entrance. The news had been signaled to the capital of the arrival of a ship from the Indies, and officials boarded her, as soon as she cast anchor. The captain at once went on shore, and reported to the minister of the Indies the news which he had brought from Goa, and gave an account of his voyage. He delivered a letter from the viceroy, stating that he had given a passage to four English gentlemen, who had formed part of Captain Drake's equipage, and who had rendered very great services in defeating an attack upon the island of Tidore by the people of Ternate, of which matters, the viceroy added, the gentlemen would themselves give a full account.
The minister at once sent on board an official, to request the young men to land; and upon their so doing, he received them with great courtesy, and gave a grand banquet the next day, at which the British minister was present.
The lads were delighted, upon landing, to receive the news that the Golden Hind had arrived safely in England four months before, and that all Europe was ringing with the great feat which she had accomplished. The lads found that they were received, by the distinguished company which met them at the table of the minister, with much honor and respect, and this was heightened upon their giving a detailed account of the adventures which had befallen them since leaving England. The British minister offered them a passage to England in one of the Queen's ships; and having provided them amply with money, they were enabled to make a good appearance, and to enter with zest into the round of festivities of which they were made the objects during their stay. They were presented to the king, who received them most graciously, and presented each with a sword of honor.
Three weeks later they sailed up the Thames, and upon landing in London at once inquired for the residence of Captain Drake. This they had no difficulty in discovering, as he was the hero of the hour.
It was with great pleasure that they were received by the commander. He expressed but little surprise at seeing them; for, as he told them, he made sure that sooner or later they would arrive, and had given orders that, upon the division of the great sums which had been gained by the Golden Hind on her voyage, their shares should be scrupulously set aside.
"You had twice before," he said to Ned, "appeared after we had all given you up as dead; and I could not believe that the four of you, together, could all have succumbed.
"We got off the reef the next day, shifting her cargo all upon one side and hoisting some sail, so that the wind bore her down, her keel lifted from the reef upon which she had fastened, and without damage she went into deep water. We spent four days in looking for you. We landed at the island to which you had been directed, and searched it thoroughly. We then went to an island further to the south, and spent three days in cruising round its shores. We landed and captured some natives, but could not learn from them that they had seen any traces of you, whatever. Most on board conceived that the canoe must have upset, and that you must have been drowned; but I never believed this, and felt convinced that, from some unknown reason, you had been unable to return to the ship, but that sooner or later you would arrive.
"From that point all went well with us. We had a rapid voyage down to the Cape, and coasted along it at a short distance. The weather was fair, and we turned our head north without loss of time; and so, by the help of Providence, and a fair wind, we made our course to England, where our gracious sovereign has been pleased to express her approval of our doings.
"I told her something of your journey across the south of the American continent, and she was pleased to express her sorrow at the loss of such gallant and promising gentlemen. I am sure that her majesty will receive, with pleasure, the news of your return.
"Now, tell me all that has happened since I last saw you."
Ned recited the history of their adventures, and Captain Francis approved of the course which they had taken, in making for Tidore instead of Ternate. He was greatly amused at their experiences as South Sea deities, and said that henceforth, let them be lost where they would, or for as long as they might be, he would never again feel any uneasiness as to their fate. He invited them to take up their abode with him, while they stayed in London; and although they were eager to return to Devonshire, he told them that he thought they ought to wait until he had communicated with the Queen, and had seen whether she would wish to see the gentlemen in whom she had kindly expressed interest.
Captain Drake had received the honor of knighthood from the Queen's hand on his return from his voyage, and was now Sir Francis Drake, and was for the time the popular idol of the people, whose national pride was deeply gratified at the feat of circumnavigation, now for the first time performed by one of their countrymen.
Captain Drake dispatched a letter to her majesty at Westminster, and the following day a royal messenger arrived, with an order that he should bring the four gentlemen adventurers with him, and present them to her majesty. The young men felt not a little awed at the thought of being received by Queen Elizabeth. But upon their presentation by Sir Francis, the Queen received them with so much condescension and grace that their fears were speedily removed.
"I thought," she said to Captain Drake, "that I should see four huge and bearded paladins. You told me indeed that they were young, but I had not pictured to myself that they were still beardless striplings, although in point of size they do credit to their native country.
"I love to listen to tales of adventure," she continued, "and beg that you will now recite to me the story of those portions of your voyage, and journeyings, of which I have not heard from the lips of Sir Francis."
Then, modestly, Ned recited the story of their journey across America, and afterwards took up the narrative at the point when they left the ship, and her majesty was pleased to laugh hugely at the story of their masquerading as gods. When they had finished she invited them to a banquet, to be given at Greenwich on the following day, gave them her hand to kiss, and presented each with a diamond ring, in token of her royal favor.
The following day they went down in the barge of Sir Francis Drake, which formed part of the grand cortege which accompanied her majesty on her water passage to Greenwich. There a royal banquet was held, with much splendor and display; after which a masque, prepared by those ingenious authors Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Fletcher, was enacted before her.
Three days later they embarked upon a country ship, bound for Plymouth, and after a rough tossing in the Channel, landed there. They were received with much honor by the mayor and dignitaries of Plymouth, for Sir Francis had already written down, giving a brief account of their adventures, and of the marks of esteem which the Queen had been pleased to bestow upon them; and Plymouth, as the representative of the county of Devon, rejoiced in giving a hearty welcome to her sons, who had brought so much credit upon them.
After a stay of a few hours the lads separated, Tom and Reuben each starting for their respective homes, while Ned, who had no family of his own, accompanied Gerald, in whose home he was looked upon almost as a son, and where the welcome which awaited him was as cordial as that given to Gerald. The share of each of the adventurers in the Golden Hind was a very large one, and Ned purchased a nice little property and settled down upon it, having had enough of the dangers of the seas, and resolving no more to leave his native country, unless his duty to his Queen should demand his services.
That time was not long in arriving, for towards the end of 1586 all Europe rang with the preparations which Philip of Spain was making to invade England. The Devonshire gentlemen who had fought on the Spanish Main, and who but lightly esteemed Spanish valor at sea, at first scoffed at the news, but soon no doubt could be entertained. Early in 1587 Sir Francis Drake wrote, to his friends who had fought under him, that her majesty had honored him with a commission to beat up the Spanish coast, and invited them to accompany him. The four friends hastened, with many others, to obey the summons; and on joining him at Plymouth, he was pleased to appoint each to the command of a ship. Some weeks were spent in earnest preparation, and in March a fleet of thirty vessels set forth, full manned and equipped.
Accustomed as the young men were to see great Spanish ships taken by single boats, and a whole fleet submissive before one ship, it seemed to them that with such an armament they could destroy the whole navies of Spain, and even then that little glory would be divided between each vessel.
Upon the 18th of April the fleet was off Cadiz, and Sir Francis made the signal for the captains of the fleet to go on board the flagship. There he unfolded to them his plan of forcing the entrance to the port, and destroying the Spanish fleet gathered there. Cadiz was one of the strongest places of Spain, and the enterprise would, to most men, have seemed a desperate one. But to men who had fought in the Spanish Main it seemed but a light thing.
As they left the admiral's cabin, Ned invited his three friends to dine on board his ship, the Sovereign; and a right merry gathering it was, as they talked over their past adventures, and marveled to find themselves each commanding a ship, about to attack the fleet of Spain in its own harbor.
Upon the following day the fleet sailed boldly towards the port of Cadiz, where the people could scarce believe that the British intended to force the entrance to the fort. When they saw that such was indeed their purpose, they opened fire with all their batteries, great and small. The English ships sailed on, unheeding their reception, and delivering their broadsides as they neared the port.
Although they had been in many fights, this was the first great battle at which the friends had been present; and the roar and din of the combat, the sound of their own guns and of those of the enemy, the crash and rending of wood, and the cheers of the sailors in no little surprised them. The Spanish gunners in their haste shot but badly, and with Sir Francis Drake's ship leading the way, the fleet forced the entrance into the port. As they entered they were saluted by the cannon of the Spanish vessels within, but without more ado they lay these aboard.
So mightily were the Spaniards amazed by the valor, and boldness of the English that they fought but feebly, jumping over for the most part, or making their way in their boats to shore. Then Sir Francis caused fire to be applied to the Spanish ships, and thirty great war vessels were destroyed before the eyes of the townspeople, while the English fleet sailed triumphantly away.
Then, following the line of coast as far as Saint Vincent, the admiral captured and burned a hundred other ships, and destroyed four great land forts.
Looking into the Tagus, the King of Portugal having been forced by Spain to aid her, Captain Drake captured the Saint Philip, the largest ship of their navy; which was, to the gratification of the sailors, laden with a precious cargo.
After these exploits the fleet returned to England in triumph, having for the time crippled the forces of Spain. Philip, however, redoubled his preparations. The fleets of Naples and Sicily, of Venice and Genoa, were added to those of Spain. The dockyards worked night and day, and by the end of the year all was in readiness.
In England men had not been idle. A great army was raised of people of every rank and condition, Catholics as well as Protestants uniting in the defense of the country; while in every port round, the din of preparation was heard. The army was destined to combat the thirty thousand Spanish soldiers commanded by the Duke of Parma in the Netherlands, where a fleet of transports had been prepared to bring them across, when the great armada should have cleared the sea of English ships. By dint of great efforts, 191 English ships of various sizes, these mostly being small merchantmen--mere pygmies in comparison with the great Spanish galleons--were collected, while the Dutch dispatched sixty others to aid in the struggle against Spain.
On the 29th of May the Spanish armada sailed from the Tagus but, being delayed by a storm, it was not till the 19th of June that its advance was first signaled by the lookout near Plymouth. Then from every hill throughout England beacon fires blazed to carry the tidings, and every Englishman betook himself to his arms, and prepared to repel the invaders.
Instead, however, of attempting to land at once, as had been expected, the Spanish fleet kept up channel; the orders of the king being that it should make first for Flanders, there form junction with the fleet of the Duke of Parma, and so effect a landing upon the English coast. As the great fleet, numbering a hundred and thirty large war vessels, and extending in the form of a crescent nine miles in length from horn to horn, sailed up channel, the spectacle, although terrible, was magnificent indeed.
The ships at Plymouth at once slipped anchor and set out in pursuit. Sir Francis Drake led, and close by him were the vessels commanded by the four friends. Paltry, indeed, did the squadron appear by the side of the great fleet, but from every port as they passed along came reinforcements, until in numbers they equaled those of the great ships of Spain. These reinforcements were commanded by Admirals Hawkins, Frobisher, and other gallant seamen; while Lord Howard, lord high admiral of England, was in chief command.
There was no general action attempted, for the floating Spanish castles could have ridden over the light ships of England; but each commander fell upon the enemy, like dogs upon the flank of an array of lions. Sir Francis threw himself into the center of the Spanish lines, followed by many other English ships, and thus separated several of the great galleons from their consorts, and then fell to work battering them.
The Spaniards fought valiantly, but at a disadvantage, for the smaller ships of the English were so quickly handled that they were able to take up positions to rake their enemy, without exposing themselves to the broadsides which would have sunk them. When at last they had crippled their foes, they would either close upon them and carry them by boarding, or, leaving them helpless wrecks upon the water, would hoist all sail and again overtake the Spanish fleet.
The battle continued day and night for five days, with scarce an intermission, the various English admirals sometimes attacking all together, sometimes separately. The same tactics ever prevailed, the Spaniards sailing on and striving to keep in a compact body, the English hovering round them, cutting off every ship which lagged behind, breaking the ranks of the enemy, and separating vessels from their consorts. Hard was it to say that, in that long struggle, one man showed more valor than another, but the deeds of the ships commanded by the Devonshire gentlemen were second to none.
On the 27th their ships were signaled to sail to join those assembled near Dunkirk, to check the progress of the Duke of Parma's fleet. They reached the English fleet in time, and soon the Spaniards were seen approaching. They kept in a compact mass, which the English ships could not break.
For a while the fight went badly, and then a number of fire ships were launched at the Spaniards. Seized with panic, these at once scattered and, the English falling upon them, a series of desperate conflicts ensued, ending almost always in the capture or destruction of the enemy.
The Duke of Medina-Sidonia, who commanded the main Spanish fleet, sailed north, intending to coast round the north of Scotland and so return to Spain. The English ships followed for a while, but were, from the shortness of the supplies which had been placed on board, forced to put into harbor; and a great storm scattering the Spanish fleet, and wrecking many, only 60 vessels, and these with their crews disabled by hardship and fatigue, ever returned to Spain.
As a consequence of their gallantry in these battles, and upon the urgent recommendations of Sir Francis Drake, her majesty was pleased to bestow the honor of knighthood upon each of the four young Devonshire gentlemen, as upon many other brave captains.
After this they went no more to sea, nor took any part in the disastrous expedition which Admirals Drake and Hawkins, together, made to the Spanish Main, when the brave Sir Francis lost his life, from fever and disappointment.
Soon after their return from the defeat of the armada, Sir Edward Hearne married the only sister of his friend Gerald, and lived with her happily to a green old age. The friendship between the four friends never diminished, but rather increased as they grew in years, and many marriages took place between their children and grandchildren. Four times a year, upon the occasion of special events in their lives, great family gatherings were held at the house of one or other. Sir Gerald generally held festival on the anniversary of the defeat of the Spanish attack on the forest fortress in Porto Rico; Tom upon that of his escape from the prison of the Inquisition; Reuben generally celebrated the day when, in the character of a South Sea idol, he aided to defeat the hostile islanders; while Ned kept up the anniversary of their return to England. As to the victory over the armada, they always had to draw lots as to the house in which that great event should be celebrated.
Upon all these occasions stories were told at great length, and their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, for all lived to see these growing up, were never tired of listening to tales of the Spanish Main.
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"Truth is strange, Stranger than fiction."
I think it but right that in making my appearance before the public I should at once acquaint them with my titles and name. My card, as I leave it at the houses of the nobility, my friends, is as follows:- MAJOR GOLIAH O'GRADY GAHAGAN, H.E.I.C.S., Commanding Battalion of Irregular Horse, AHMEDNUGGAR.
Seeing, I say, this simple visiting ticket, the world will avoid any of those awkward mistakes as to my person, which have been so frequent of late. There has been no end to the blunders regarding this humble title of mine, and the confusion thereby created. When I published my volume of poems, for instance, the Morning Post newspaper remarked "that the Lyrics of the Heart, by Miss Gahagan, may be ranked among the sweetest flowrets of the present spring season." The Quarterly Review, commenting upon my "Observations on the Pons Asinorum" (4to, London, 1836), called me "Doctor Gahagan," and so on. It was time to put an end to these mistakes, and I have taken the above simple remedy.
I was urged to it by a very exalted personage. Dining in August last at the palace of the T-l-r-es at Paris, the lovely young Duch- ss of Orl-ns (who, though she does not speak English, understands it as well as I do), said to me in the softest Teutonic, "Lieber Herr Major, haben sie den Ahmednuggarischen-jager-battalion gelassen?" "Warum denn?" said I, quite astonished at her R-l H- ss's question. The P-cess then spoke of some trifle from my pen, which was simply signed Goliah Gahagan.
There was, unluckily, a dead silence as H.R.H. put this question.
"Comment donc?" said H.M. Lo-is Ph-l-ppe, looking gravely at Count Mole; "le cher Major a quitte l'armee! Nicolas donc sera maitre de l'Inde!" H. M- and the Pr. M-n-ster pursued their conversation in a low tone, and left me, as may be imagined, in a dreadful state of confusion. I blushed and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent words to explain--but it would not do--I could not recover my equanimity during the course of the dinner; and while endeavouring to help an English duke, my neighbour, to poulet a l'Austerlitz, fairly sent seven mushrooms and three large greasy croutes over his whiskers and shirt-frill. Another laugh at my expense. "Ah! M. le Major," said the Q- of the B-lg-ns, archly, "vous n'aurez jamais votre brevet de Colonel." Her M-y's joke will be better understood when I state that his Grace is the brother of a Minister.
I am not at liberty to violate the sanctity of private life, by mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little anecdote. I only wish to have it understood that I am a gentleman, and live at least in DECENT society. Verbum sat.
But to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name of Goliah in full, to distinguish me from my brother, Gregory Gahagan, who was also a Major (in the King's service), and whom I killed in a duel, as the public most likely knows. Poor Greg! a very trivial dispute was the cause of our quarrel, which never would have originated but for the similarity of our names. The circumstance was this: I had been lucky enough to render the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service (in the notorious affair of Choprasjee Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a gold toothpick-case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I of course thought was for me: my brother madly claimed it; we fought, and the consequence was, that in about three minutes he received a slash in the right side (cut 6), which effectually did his business:- he was a good swordsman enough--I was THE BEST in the universe. The most ridiculous part of the affair is, that the toothpick-case was his, after all--he had left it on the Nawaub's table at tiffin. I can't conceive what madness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble; he had much better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was determined to have it. From this slight specimen of my adventures, the reader will perceive that my life has been one of no ordinary interest; and, in fact, I may say that I have led a more remarkable life than any man in the service--I have been at more pitched battles, led more forlorn hopes, had more success among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more, been a handsomer man than any officer now serving Her Majesty.
When I first went to India in 1802, I was a raw cornet of seventeen, with blazing red hair, six feet four in height, athletic at all kinds of exercises, owing money to my tailor and everybody else who would trust me, possessing an Irish brogue, and my full pay of 120l. a year. I need not say that with all these advantages I did that which a number of clever fellows have done before me--I fell in love, and proposed to marry immediately.
But how to overcome the difficulty? --It is true that I loved Julia Jowler--loved her to madness; but her father intended her for a Member of Council at least, and not for a beggarly Irish ensign. It was, however, my fate to make the passage to India (on board of the "Samuel Snob" East Indiaman, Captain Duffy) with this lovely creature, and my misfortune instantaneously to fall in love with her. We were not out of the Channel before I adored her, worshipped the deck which she trod upon, kissed a thousand times the cuddy-chair on which she used to sit. The same madness fell on every man in the ship. The two mates fought about her at the Cape; the surgeon, a sober pious Scotchman, from disappointed affection, took so dreadfully to drinking as to threaten spontaneous combustion; and old Colonel Lilywhite, carrying his wife and seven daughters to Bengal, swore that he would have a divorce from Mrs. L., and made an attempt at suicide; the captain himself told me, with tears in his eyes, that he hated his hitherto-adored Mrs. Duffy, although he had had nineteen children by her.
We used to call her the witch--there was magic in her beauty and in her voice. I was spell-bound when I looked at her, and stark staring mad when she looked at me! O lustrous black eyes! --O glossy night-black ringlets! --O lips! --O dainty frocks of white muslin! --O tiny kid slippers! --though old and gouty, Gahagan sees you still! I recollect, off Ascension, she looked at me in her particular way one day at dinner, just as I happened to be blowing on a piece of scalding hot green fat. I was stupefied at once--I thrust the entire morsel (about half a pound) into my mouth. I made no attempt to swallow, or to masticate it, but left it there for many minutes, burning, burning! I had no skin to my palate for seven weeks after, and lived on rice-water during the rest of the voyage. The anecdote is trivial, but it shows the power of Julia Jowler over me.
The writers of marine novels have so exhausted the subject of storms, shipwrecks, mutinies, engagements, sea-sickness, and so forth, that (although I have experienced each of these in many varieties) I think it quite unnecessary to recount such trifling adventures; suffice it to say, that during our five months' trajet, my mad passion for Julia daily increased; so did the captain's and the surgeon's; so did Colonel Lilywhite's; so did the doctor's, the mate's--that of most part of the passengers, and a considerable number of the crew. For myself, I swore--ensign as I was--I would win her for my wife; I vowed that I would make her glorious with my sword--that as soon as I had made a favourable impression on my commanding officer (which I did not doubt to create), I would lay open to him the state of my affections, and demand his daughter's hand. With such sentimental outpourings did our voyage continue and conclude.
We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in December 1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. She was carried off to her papa's arms in a palankeen, surrounded by at least forty hookahbadars; whilst the poor cornet, attended but by two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which unnatural name these blackamoors are called), made his way humbly to join the regiment at headquarters.
The -'th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the command of Lieut.-Colonel Julius Jowler, C.B., was known throughout Asia and Europe by the proud title of the Bundelcund Invincibles--so great was its character for bravery, so remarkable were its services in that delightful district of India. Major Sir George Gutch was next in command, and Tom Thrupp, as kind a fellow as ever ran a Mahratta through the body, was second Major. We were on the eve of that remarkable war which was speedily to spread throughout the whole of India, to call forth the valour of a Wellesley, and the indomitable gallantry of a Gahagan; which was illustrated by our victories at Ahmednuggar (where I was the first over the barricade at the storming of the Pettah); at Argaum, where I slew with my own sword twenty-three matchlock-men, and cut a dromedary in two; and by that terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley would have been beaten but for me--me alone: I headed nineteen charges of cavalry, took (aided by only four men of my own troop) seventeen field-pieces, killing the scoundrelly French artillerymen; on that day I had eleven elephants shot under me, and carried away Scindiah's nose- ring with a pistol-ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a Marshal, I but a simple Major of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war! But my feelings carry me away from my narrative, which had better proceed with more order.
On arriving, I say, at our barracks at Dum Dum, I for the first time put on the beautiful uniform of the Invincibles: a light blue swallow-tailed jacket with silver lace and wings, ornamented with about 3,000 sugar-loaf buttons, rhubarb-coloured leather inexpressibles (tights), and red morocco boots with silver spurs and tassels, set off to admiration the handsome persons of the officers of our corps. We wore powder in those days; and a regulation pigtail of seventeen inches, a brass helmet surrounded by leopard skin, with a bearskin top and a horsetail feather, gave the head a fierce and chivalrous appearance, which is far more easily imagined than described.
Attired in this magnificent costume, I first presented myself before Colonel Jowler. He was habited in a manner precisely similar, but not being more than five feet in height, and weighing at least fifteen stone, the dress he wore did not become him quite so much as slimmer and taller men. Flanked by his tall Majors, Thrupp and Gutch, he looked like a stumpy skittle-ball between two attenuated skittles. The plump little Colonel received me with vast cordiality, and I speedily became a prime favourite with himself and the other officers of the corps. Jowler was the most hospitable of men; and gratifying my appetite and my love together, I continually partook of his dinners, and feasted on the sweet presence of Julia.
I can see now, what I would not and could not perceive in those early days, that this Miss Jowler--on whom I had lavished my first and warmest love, whom I had endowed with all perfection and purity--was no better than a little impudent flirt, who played with my feelings, because during the monotony of a sea voyage she had no other toy to play with; and who deserted others for me, and me for others, just as her whim or her interest might guide her. She had not been three weeks at headquarters when half the regiment was in love with her. Each and all of the candidates had some favour to boast of, or some encouraging hopes on which to build. It was the scene of the "Samuel Snob" over again, only heightened in interest by a number of duels. The following list will give the reader a notion of some of them:- 1. Cornet Gahagan . . . Ensign Hicks, of the Sappers and Miners. Hicks received a ball in his jaw, and was half choked by a quantity of carroty whisker forced down his throat with the ball.
2. Captain Macgillicuddy, B.N.I. Cornet Gahagan. I was run through the body, but the sword passed between the ribs, and injured me very slightly.
3. Captain Macgillicuddy, B.N.I. Mr. Mulligatawny, B.C.S., Deputy- Assistant Vice Sub-Controller of the Boggleywollah Indigo grounds, Ramgolly branch.
Macgillicuddy should have stuck to sword's play, and he might have come off in his second duel as well as in his first; as it was, the civilian placed a ball and a part of Mac's gold repeater in his stomach. A remarkable circumstance attended this shot, an account of which I sent home to the "Philosophical Transactions:" the surgeon had extracted the ball, and was going off, thinking that all was well, when the gold repeater struck thirteen in poor Macgillicuddy's abdomen. I suppose that the works must have been disarranged in some way by the bullet, for the repeater was one of Barraud's, never known to fail before, and the circumstance occurred at seven o'clock. {1} I could continue, almost ad infinitum, an account of the wars which this Helen occasioned, but the above three specimens will, I should think, satisfy the peaceful reader. I delight not in scenes of blood, Heaven knows, but I was compelled in the course of a few weeks, and for the sake of this one woman, to fight nine duels myself, and I know that four times as many more took place concerning her.
I forgot to say that Jowler's wife was a half-caste woman, who had been born and bred entirely in India, and whom the Colonel had married from the house of her mother, a native. There were some singular rumours abroad regarding this latter lady's history: it was reported that she was the daughter of a native Rajah, and had been carried off by a poor English subaltern in Lord Clive's time. The young man was killed very soon after, and left his child with its mother. The black Prince forgave his daughter and bequeathed to her a handsome sum of money. I suppose that it was on this account that Jowler married Mrs. J., a creature who had not, I do believe, a Christian name, or a single Christian quality: she was a hideous, bloated, yellow creature, with a beard, black teeth, and red eyes: she was fat, lying, ugly, and stingy--she hated and was hated by all the world, and by her jolly husband as devoutly as by any other. She did not pass a month in the year with him, but spent most of her time with her native friends. I wonder how she could have given birth to so lovely a creature as her daughter. This woman was of course with the Colonel when Julia arrived, and the spice of the devil in her daughter's composition was most carefully nourished and fed by her. If Julia had been a flirt before, she was a downright jilt now; she set the whole cantonment by the ears; she made wives jealous and husbands miserable; she caused all those duels of which I have discoursed already, and yet such was the fascination of THE WITCH that I still thought her an angel. I made court to the nasty mother in order to be near the daughter; and I listened untiringly to Jowler's interminable dull stories, because I was occupied all the time in watching the graceful movements of Miss Julia.
But the trumpet of war was soon ringing in our ears; and on the battle-field Gahagan is a man! The Bundelcund Invincibles received orders to march, and Jowler, Hector-like, donned his helmet and prepared to part from his Andromache. And now arose his perplexity: what must be done with his daughter, his Julia? He knew his wife's peculiarities of living, and did not much care to trust his daughter to her keeping; but in vain he tried to find her an asylum among the respectable ladies of his regiment. Lady Gutch offered to receive her, but would have nothing to do with Mrs. Jowler; the surgeon's wife, Mrs. Sawbone, would have neither mother nor daughter: there was no help for it, Julia and her mother must have a house together, and Jowler knew that his wife would fill it with her odious blackamoor friends.
I could not, however, go forth satisfied to the campaign until I learned from Julia my fate. I watched twenty opportunities to see her alone, and wandered about the Colonel's bungalow as an informer does about a public-house, marking the incomings and the outgoings of the family, and longing to seize the moment when Miss Jowler, unbiassed by her mother or her papa, might listen, perhaps, to my eloquence, and melt at the tale of my love.
But it would not do--old Jowler seemed to have taken all of a sudden to such a fit of domesticity, that there was no finding him out of doors, and his rhubarb-coloured wife (I believe that her skin gave the first idea of our regimental breeches), who before had been gadding ceaselessly abroad, and poking her broad nose into every menage in the cantonment, stopped faithfully at home with her spouse. My only chance was to beard the old couple in their den, and ask them at once for their cub.
So I called one day at tiffin:- old Jowler was always happy to have my company at this meal; it amused him, he said, to see me drink Hodgson's pale ale (I drank two hundred and thirty-four dozen the first year I was in Bengal)--and it was no small piece of fun, certainly, to see old Mrs. Jowler attack the currie-bhaut;--she was exactly the colour of it, as I have had already the honour to remark, and she swallowed the mixture with a gusto which was never equalled, except by my poor friend Dando a propos d'huitres. She consumed the first three platefuls with a fork and spoon, like a Christian; but as she warmed to her work, the old hag would throw away her silver implements, and dragging the dishes towards her, go to work with her hands, flip the rice into her mouth with her fingers, and stow away a quantity of eatables sufficient for a sepoy company. But why do I diverge from the main point of my story?
Julia, then, Jowler, and Mrs. J., were at luncheon; the dear girl was in the act to sabler a glass of Hodgson as I entered. "How do you do, Mr. Gagin?" said the old hag, leeringly. "Eat a bit o' currie-bhaut,"--and she thrust the dish towards me, securing a heap as it passed. "What! Gagy my boy, how do, how do?" said the fat Colonel. "What! run through the body? --got well again--have some Hodgson--run through your body too!" --and at this, I may say, coarse joke (alluding to the fact that in these hot climates the ale oozes out as it were from the pores of the skin) old Jowler laughed: a host of swarthy chobdars, kitmatgars, sices, consomahs, and bobbychies laughed too, as they provided me, unasked, with the grateful fluid. Swallowing six tumblers of it, I paused nervously for a moment, and then said - "Bobbachy, consomah, ballybaloo hoga."
The black ruffians took the hint, and retired.
"Colonel and Mrs. Jowler," said I solemnly, "we are alone; and you, Miss Jowler, you are alone too; that is--I mean--I take this opportunity to--(another glass of ale, if you please)--to express, once for all, before departing on a dangerous campaign"--(Julia turned pale)--"before entering, I say, upon a war which may stretch in the dust my high-raised hopes and me, to express my hopes while life still remains to me, and to declare in the face of heaven, earth, and Colonel Jowler, that I love you, Julia!" The Colonel, astonished, let fall a steel fork, which stuck quivering for some minutes in the calf of my leg; but I heeded not the paltry interruption. "Yes, by yon bright heaven," continued I, "I love you, Julia! I respect my commander, I esteem your excellent and beauteous mother: tell me, before I leave you, if I may hope for a return of my affection. Say that you love me, and I will do such deeds in this coming war, as shall make you proud of the name of your Gahagan."
The old woman, as I delivered these touching words, stared, snapped, and ground her teeth, like an enraged monkey. Julia was now red, now white; the Colonel stretched forward, took the fork out of the calf of my leg, wiped it, and then seized a bundle of letters which I had remarked by his side.
"A cornet!" said he, in a voice choking with emotion; "a pitiful beggarly Irish cornet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler! Gag-- Gahagan, are you mad, or laughing at us? Look at these letters, young man--at these letters, I say--one hundred and twenty-four epistles from every part of India (not including one from the Governor-General, and six from his brother, Colonel Wellesley)--one hundred and twenty-four proposals for the hand of Miss Jowler! Cornet Gahagan," he continued, "I wish to think well of you: you are the bravest, the most modest, and, perhaps, the handsomest man in our corps; but you have not got a single rupee. You ask me for Julia, and you do not possess even an anna!" --(Here the old rogue grinned, as if he had made a capital pun.) --"No, no," said he, waxing good-natured; "Gagy my boy, it is nonsense! Julia love, retire with your mamma; this silly young gentleman will remain and smoke a pipe with me."
I took one: it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my life.
* * * I am not going to give here an account of my military services; they will appear in my great national autobiography, in forty volumes, which I am now preparing for the press. I was with my regiment in all Wellesley's brilliant campaigns; then taking dawk, I travelled across the country north-eastward, and had the honour of fighting by the side of Lord Lake at Laswaree, Degg, Furruckabad, Futtyghur, and Bhurtpore: but I will not boast of my actions--the military man knows them, MY SOVEREIGN appreciates them. If asked who was the bravest man of the Indian army, there is not an officer belonging to it who would not cry at once, GAHAGAN. The fact is, I was desperate: I cared not for life, deprived of Julia Jowler.
With Julia's stony looks ever before my eyes, her father's stern refusal in my ears, I did not care, at the close of the campaign, again to seek her company or to press my suit. We were eighteen months on service, marching and counter-marching, and fighting almost every other day: to the world I did not seem altered; but the world only saw the face, and not the seared and blighted heart within me. My valour, always desperate, now reached to a pitch of cruelty; I tortured my grooms and grass-cutters for the most trifling offence or error,--I never in action spared a man,--I sheared off three hundred and nine heads in the course of that single campaign.
Some influence, equally melancholy, seemed to have fallen upon poor old Jowler. About six months after we had left Dum Dum, he received a parcel of letters from Benares (whither his wife had retired with her daughter), and so deeply did they seem to weigh upon his spirits, that he ordered eleven men of his regiment to be flogged within two days; but it was against the blacks that he chiefly turned his wrath. Our fellows, in the heat and hurry of the campaign, were in the habit of dealing rather roughly with their prisoners, to extract treasure from them: they used to pull their nails out by the root, to boil them in kedgeree pots, to flog them and dress their wounds with cayenne pepper, and so on. Jowler, when he heard of these proceedings, which before had always justly exasperated him (he was a humane and kind little man), used now to smile fiercely and say, "D- the black scoundrels! Serve them right, serve them right!"
One day, about a couple of miles in advance of the column, I had been on a foraging-party with a few dragoons, and was returning peaceably to camp, when of a sudden a troop of Mahrattas burst on us from a neighbouring mango-tope, in which they had been hidden: in an instant three of my men's saddles were empty, and I was left with but seven more to make head against at least thirty of these vagabond black horsemen. I never saw in my life a nobler figure than the leader of the troop--mounted on a splendid black Arab; he was as tall, very nearly, as myself; he wore a steel cap and a shirt of mail, and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had already done execution upon two of my men. I saw that our only chance of safety lay in the destruction of this man. I shouted to him in a voice of thunder (in the Hindustanee tongue of course), "Stop, dog, if you dare, and encounter a man!"
In reply his lance came whirling in the air over my head, and mortally transfixed poor Foggarty of ours, who was behind me. Grinding my teeth and swearing horribly, I drew that scimitar which never yet failed its blow, {2} and rushed at the Indian. He came down at full gallop, his own sword making ten thousand gleaming circles in the air, shrieking his cry of battle.
The contest did not last an instant. With my first blow I cut off his sword-arm at the wrist; my second I levelled at his head. I said that he wore a steel cap, with a gilt iron spike of six inches, and a hood of chain mail. I rose in my stirrups and delivered "St. George;" my sword caught the spike exactly on the point, split it sheer in two, cut crashing through the steel cap and hood, and was only stopped by a ruby which he wore in his back- plate. His head, cut clean in two between the eyebrows and nostrils, even between the two front teeth, fell one side on each shoulder, and he galloped on till his horse was stopped by my men, who were not a little amused at the feat.
As I had expected, the remaining ruffians fled on seeing their leader's fate. I took home his helmet by way of curiosity, and we made a single prisoner, who was instantly carried before old Jowler.
We asked the prisoner the name of the leader of the troop: he said it was Chowder Loll.
"Chowder Loll!" shrieked Colonel Jowler. "O Fate! thy hand is here!" He rushed wildly into his tent--the next day applied for leave of absence. Gutch took the command of the regiment, and I saw him no more for some time.
* * * As I had distinguished myself not a little during the war, General Lake sent me up with despatches to Calcutta, where Lord Wellesley received me with the greatest distinction. Fancy my surprise, on going to a ball at Government House, to meet my old friend Jowler; my trembling, blushing, thrilling delight, when I saw Julia by his side!
Jowler seemed to blush too when he beheld me. I thought of my former passages with his daughter. "Gagy my boy," says he, shaking hands, "glad to see you. Old friend, Julia--come to tiffin-- Hodgson's pale--brave fellow Gagy." Julia did not speak, but she turned ashy pale, and fixed upon me her awful eyes! I fainted almost, and uttered some incoherent words. Julia took my hand, gazed at me still, and said, "Come!" Need I say I went?
I will not go over the pale ale and currie-bhaut again! but this I know, that in half-an-hour I was as much in love as I ever had been: and that in three weeks I--yes, I--was the accepted lover of Julia! I did not pause to ask where were the one hundred and twenty-four offers? why I, refused before, should be accepted now? I only felt that I loved her, and was happy!
* * * One night, one memorable night, I could not sleep, and, with a lover's pardonable passion, wandered solitary through the City of Palaces until I came to the house which contained my Julia. I peeped into the compound--all was still; I looked into the verandah--all was dark, except a light--yes, one light--and it was in Julia's chamber! My heart throbbed almost to stifling. I would--I WOULD advance, if but to gaze upon her for a moment, and to bless her as she slept. I DID look, I DID advance; and, O Heaven! I saw a lamp burning, Mrs. Jow. in a night-dress, with a very dark baby in her arms, and Julia looking tenderly at an ayah, who was nursing another.
"Oh, Mamma," said Julia, "what would that fool Gahagan say if he knew all?"
"HE DOES KNOW ALL!" shouted I, springing forward, and tearing down the tatties from the window. Mrs. Jow. ran shrieking out of the room, Julia fainted, the cursed black children squalled, and their d-d nurse fell on her knees, gabbling some infernal jargon of Hindustanee. Old Jowler at this juncture entered with a candle and a drawn sword.
"Liar! scoundrel! deceiver!" shouted I. "Turn, ruffian, and defend yourself!" But old Jowler, when he saw me, only whistled, looked at his lifeless daughter, and slowly left the room.
Why continue the tale? I need not now account for Jowler's gloom on receiving his letters from Benares--for his exclamation upon the death of the Indian chief--for his desire to marry his daughter: the woman I was wooing was no longer Miss Julia Jowler, she was Mrs. Chowder Loll!
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"id": "1935"
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2
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ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE
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I sat down to write gravely and sadly, for (since the appearance of some of my adventures in a monthly magazine) unprincipled men have endeavoured to rob me of the only good I possess, to question the statements that I make, and, themselves without a spark of honour or good feeling, to steal from me that which is my sole wealth--my character as a teller of THE TRUTH.
The reader will understand that it is to the illiberal strictures of a profligate press I now allude; among the London journalists, none (luckily for themselves) have dared to question the veracity of my statements: they know me, and they know that I am IN LONDON. If I can use the pen, I can also wield a more manly and terrible weapon, and would answer their contradictions with my sword! No gold or gems adorn the hilt of that war-worn scimitar; but there is blood upon the blade--the blood of the enemies of my country, and the maligners of my honest fame. There are others, however--the disgrace of a disgraceful trade--who, borrowing from distance a despicable courage, have ventured to assail me. The infamous editors of the Kelso Champion, the Bungay Beacon, the Tipperary Argus, and the Stoke Pogis Sentinel, and other dastardly organs of the provincial press, have, although differing in politics, agreed upon this one point, and, with a scoundrelly unanimity, vented a flood of abuse upon the revelations made by me.
They say that I have assailed private characters, and wilfully perverted history to blacken the reputation of public men. I ask, was any one of these men in Bengal in the year 1803? Was any single conductor of any one of these paltry prints ever in Bundelcund or the Rohilla country? Does this EXQUISITE Tipperary scribe know the difference between Hurrygurrybang and Burrumtollah? Not he! and because, forsooth, in those strange and distant lands strange circumstances have taken place, it is insinuated that the relater is a liar: nay, that the very places themselves have no existence but in my imagination. Fools! --but I will not waste my anger upon them, and proceed to recount some other portions of my personal history.
It is, I presume, a fact which even THESE scribbling assassins will not venture to deny, that before the commencement of the campaign against Scindiah, the English General formed a camp at Kanouge on the Jumna, where he exercised that brilliant little army which was speedily to perform such wonders in the Dooab. It will be as well to give a slight account of the causes of a war which was speedily to rage through some of the fairest portions of the Indian continent.
Shah Allum, the son of Shah Lollum, the descendant by the female line of Nadir Shah (that celebrated Toorkomaun adventurer, who had well-nigh hurled Bajazet and Selim the Second from the throne of Bagdad)--Shah Allum, I say, although nominally the Emperor of Delhi, was in reality the slave of the various warlike chieftains who lorded it by turns over the country and the sovereign, until conquered and slain by some more successful rebel. Chowder Loll Masolgee, Zubberdust Khan, Dowsunt Row Scindiah, and the celebrated Bobbachy Jung Bahawder, had held for a time complete mastery in Delhi. The second of these, a ruthless Afghan soldier, had abruptly entered the capital; nor was he ejected from it until he had seized upon the principal jewels, and likewise put out the eyes of the last of the unfortunate family of Afrasiab. Scindiah came to the rescue of the sightless Shah Allum, and though he destroyed his oppressor, only increased his slavery; holding him in as painful a bondage as he had suffered under the tyrannous Afghan.
As long as these heroes were battling among themselves, or as long rather as it appeared that they had any strength to fight a battle, the British Government, ever anxious to see its enemies by the ears, by no means interfered in the contest. But the French Revolution broke out, and a host of starving sans-culottes appeared among the various Indian States, seeking for military service, and inflaming the minds of the various native princes against the British East India Company. A number of these entered into Scindiah's ranks: one of them, Perron, was commander of his army; and though that chief was as yet quite engaged in his hereditary quarrel with Jeswunt Row Holkar, and never thought of an invasion of the British territory, the Company all of a sudden discovered that Shah Allum, his sovereign, was shamefully ill-used, and determined to re-establish the ancient splendour of his throne.
Of course it was sheer benevolence for poor Shah Allum that prompted our governors to take these kindly measures in his favour. I don't know how it happened that, at the end of the war, the poor Shah was not a whit better off than at the beginning; and that though Holkar was beaten, and Scindiah annihilated, Shah Allum was much such a puppet as before. Somehow, in the hurry and confusion of this struggle, the oyster remained with the British Government, who had so kindly offered to dress it for the Emperor, while His Majesty was obliged to be contented with the shell.
The force encamped at Kanouge bore the title of the Grand Army of the Ganges and the Jumna; it consisted of eleven regiments of cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, and was commanded by General Lake in person.
Well, on the 1st of September we stormed Perron's camp at Allyghur; on the fourth we took that fortress by assault; and as my name was mentioned in general orders, I may as well quote the Commander-in- Chief's words regarding me--they will spare me the trouble of composing my own eulogium:- "The Commander-in-Chief is proud thus publicly to declare his high sense of the gallantry of Lieutenant Gahagan, of the -- Cavalry. In the storming of the fortress, although unprovided with a single ladder, and accompanied but by a few brave men, Lieutenant Gahagan succeeded in escalading the inner and fourteenth wall of the place. Fourteen ditches lined with sword-blades and poisoned chevaux-de- frise, fourteen walls bristling with innumerable artillery and as smooth as looking-glasses, were in turn triumphantly passed by that enterprising officer. His course was to be traced by the heaps of slaughtered enemies lying thick upon the platforms; and alas! by the corpses of most of the gallant men who followed him! When at length he effected his lodgment, and the dastardly enemy, who dared not to confront him with arms, let loose upon him the tigers and lions of Scindiah's menagerie, this meritorious officer destroyed, with his own hand, four of the largest and most ferocious animals, and the rest, awed by the indomitable majesty of BRITISH VALOUR, shrank back to their dens. Thomas Higgory, a private, and Runty Goss, havildar, were the only two who remained out of the nine hundred who followed Lieutenant Gahagan. Honour to them! Honour and tears for the brave men who perished on that awful day!"
* * * I have copied this, word for word, from the Bengal Hurkaru of September 24, 1803: and anybody who has the slightest doubt as to the statement, may refer to the paper itself.
And here I must pause to give thanks to Fortune, which so marvellously preserved me, Sergeant-Major Higgory, and Runty Goss. Were I to say that any valour of ours had carried us unhurt through this tremendous combat, the reader would laugh me to scorn. No: though my narrative is extraordinary, it is nevertheless authentic: and never never would I sacrifice truth for the mere sake of effect. The fact is this:- the citadel of Allyghur is situated upon a rock, about a thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is surrounded by fourteen walls, as his Excellency was good enough to remark in his despatch. A man who would mount these without scaling-ladders, is an ass; he who would SAY he mounted them without such assistance, is a liar and a knave. We HAD scaling- ladders at the commencement of the assault, although it was quite impossible to carry them beyond the first line of batteries. Mounted on them, however, as our troops were falling thick about me, I saw that we must ignominiously retreat, unless some other help could be found for our brave fellows to escalade the next wall. It was about seventy feet high. I instantly turned the guns of wall A on wall B, and peppered the latter so as to make, not a breach, but a scaling place; the men mounting in the holes made by the shot. By this simple stratagem, I managed to pass each successive barrier--for to ascend a wall which the General was pleased to call "as smooth as glass" is an absurd impossibility: I seek to achieve none such:- "I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is neither more nor less."
Of course, had the enemy's guns been commonly well served, not one of us would ever have been alive out of the three; but whether it was owing to fright, or to the excessive smoke caused by so many pieces of artillery, arrive we did. On the platforms, too, our work was not quite so difficult as might be imagined--killing these fellows was sheer butchery. As soon as we appeared, they all turned and fled helter-skelter, and the reader may judge of their courage by the fact that out of about seven hundred men killed by us, only forty had wounds in front, the rest being bayoneted as they ran.
And beyond all other pieces of good fortune was the very letting out of these tigers; which was the dernier ressort of Bournonville, the second commandant of the fort. I had observed this man (conspicuous for a tricoloured scarf which he wore) upon every one of the walls as we stormed them, and running away the very first among the fugitives. He had all the keys of the gates; and in his tremor, as he opened the menagerie portal, left the whole bunch in the door, which I seized when the animals were overcome. Runty Goss then opened them one by one, our troops entered, and the victorious standard of my country floated on the walls of Allyghur!
When the General, accompanied by his staff, entered the last line of fortifications, the brave old man raised me from the dead rhinoceros on which I was seated, and pressed me to his breast. But the excitement which had borne me through the fatigues and perils of that fearful day failed all of a sudden, and I wept like a child upon his shoulder.
Promotion, in our army, goes unluckily by seniority; nor is it in the power of the General-in-Chief to advance a Caesar, if he finds him in the capacity of a subaltern: MY reward for the above exploit was, therefore, not very rich. His Excellency had a favourite horn snuff-box (for, though exalted in station, he was in his habits most simple): of this, and about a quarter of an ounce of high-dried Welsh, which he always took, he made me a present, saying, in front of the line, "Accept this, Mr. Gahagan, as a token of respect from the first to the bravest officer in the army."
Calculating the snuff to be worth a halfpenny, I should say that fourpence was about the value of this gift: but it has at least this good effect--it serves to convince any person who doubts my story, that the facts of it are really true. I have left it at the office of my publisher, along with the extract from the Bengal Hurkaru, and anybody may examine both by applying in the counting- house of Mr. Cunningham. {3} That once popular expression, or proverb, "Are you up to snuff?" arose out of the above circumstance; for the officers of my corps, none of whom, except myself, had ventured on the storming party, used to twit me about this modest reward for my labours. Never mind! when they want me to storm a fort AGAIN, I shall know better.
Well, immediately after the capture of this important fortress, Perron, who had been the life and soul of Scindiah's army, came in to us, with his family and treasure, and was passed over to the French settlements at Chandernagur. Bourquien took his command, and against him we now moved. The morning of the 11th of September found us upon the plains of Delhi.
It was a burning hot day, and we were all refreshing ourselves after the morning's march, when I, who was on the advanced picket along with O'Gawler of the King's Dragoons, was made aware of the enemy's neighbourhood in a very singular manner. O'Gawler and I were seated under a little canopy of horse-cloths, which we had formed to shelter us from the intolerable heat of the sun, and were discussing with great delight a few Manilla cheroots, and a stone jar of the most exquisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree. We had been playing cards the night before, and O'Gawler had lost to me seven hundred rupees. I emptied the last of the sangaree into the two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking, and holding mine up, said, "Here's better luck to you next time, O'Gawler!"
As I spoke the words--whish! --a cannon-ball cut the tumbler clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O'Gawler's stomach. It settled him completely, and of course I never got my seven hundred rupees. Such are the uncertainties of war!
To strap on my sabre and my accoutrements--to mount my Arab charger--to drink off what O'Gawler had left of the sangaree--and to gallop to the General, was the work of a moment. I found him as comfortably at tiffin as if he were at his own house in London.
"General," said I, as soon as I got into his paijamahs (or tent), "you must leave your lunch if you want to fight the enemy."
"The enemy--psha! Mr. Gahagan, the enemy is on the other side of the river."
"I can only tell your Excellency that the enemy's guns will hardly carry five miles, and that Cornet O'Gawler was this moment shot dead at my side with a cannon-ball."
"Ha! is it so?" said his Excellency, rising, and laying down the drumstick of a grilled chicken. "Gentlemen, remember that the eyes of Europe are upon us, and follow me!"
Each aide-de-camp started from table and seized his cocked hat; each British heart beat high at the thoughts of the coming melee. We mounted our horses, and galloped swiftly after the brave old General; I not the last in the train, upon my famous black charger.
It was perfectly true, the enemy were posted in force within three miles of our camp, and from a hillock in the advance to which we galloped, we were enabled with our telescopes to see the whole of his imposing line. Nothing can better describe it than this:- ___________________ A /.................... /. /.
- A is the enemy, and the dots represent the hundred and twenty pieces of artillery which defended his line. He was moreover, entrenched; and a wide morass in his front gave him an additional security.
His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then said, turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, "Order up Major-General Tinkler and the cavalry."
"HERE, does your Excellency mean?" said the aide-de-camp, surprised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the cannon-balls were flying about as thick as peas.
"HERE, SIR!" said the old General, stamping with his foot in a passion, and the A.D.C. shrugged his shoulders and galloped away. In five minutes we heard the trumpets in our camp, and in twenty more the greater part of the cavalry had joined us.
Up they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping in the air, their long line of polished jack-boots gleaming in the golden sunlight. "And now we are here," said Major-General Sir Theophilus Tinkler, "what next?" "Oh, d- it," said the Commander-in-Chief, "charge, charge--nothing like charging--galloping--guns--rascally black scoundrels--charge, charge!" And then turning round to me (perhaps he was glad to change the conversation), he said, "Lieutenant Gahagan, you will stay with me."
And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the battle WAS GAINED BY ME. I do not mean to insult the reader by pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day,-- that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed a battery of guns,--such absurd tales would disgrace both the hearer and the teller. I, as is well known, never say a single word which cannot be proved, and hate more than all other vices the absurd sin of egotism: I simply mean that my ADVICE to the General, at a quarter-past two o'clock in the afternoon of that day, won this great triumph for the British army.
Gleig, Mill, and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, though somehow they have omitted all mention of the hero of it. General Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord Lake of Laswaree. Laswaree! and who, forsooth, was the real conqueror of Laswaree? I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that I was. If any proof is wanting of the fact, let me give it at once, and from the highest military testimony in the world--I mean that of the Emperor Napoleon.
In the month of March, 1817, I was passenger on board the "Prince Regent," Captain Harris, which touched at St. Helena on its passage from Calcutta to England. In company with the other officers on board the ship, I paid my respects to the illustrious exile of Longwood, who received us in his garden, where he was walking about, in a nankeen dress and a large broad-brimmed straw hat, with General Montholon, Count Las Casas, and his son Emanuel, then a little boy; who I dare say does not recollect me, but who nevertheless played with my sword-knot and the tassels of my Hessian boots during the whole of our interview with his Imperial Majesty.
Our names were read out (in a pretty accent, by the way!) by General Montholon, and the Emperor, as each was pronounced, made a bow to the owner of it, but did not vouchsafe a word. At last Montholon came to mine. The Emperor looked me at once in the face, took his hands out of his pockets, put them behind his back, and coming up to me smiling, pronounced the following words:- "Assaye, Delhi, Deeg, Futtyghur?"
I blushed, and, taking off my hat with a bow, said, "Sire, c'est moi."
"Parbleu! je le savais bien," said the Emperor, holding out his snuff-box. "En usez-vous, Major?" I took a large pinch (which, with the honour of speaking to so great a man, brought the tears into my eyes), and he continued as nearly as possible in the following words:- "Sir, you are known; you come of an heroic nation. Your third brother, the Chef de Bataillon, Count Godfrey Gahagan, was in my Irish Brigade."
Gahagan. "Sire, it is true. He and my countrymen in your Majesty's service stood under the green flag in the breach of Burgos, and beat Wellington back. It was the only time, as your Majesty knows, that Irishmen and Englishmen were beaten in that war."
Napoleon (looking as if he would say, "D- your candour, Major Gahagan"). "Well, well; it was so. Your brother was a Count, and died a General in my service."
Gahagan. "He was found lying upon the bodies of nine-and-twenty Cossacks at Borodino. They were all dead, and bore the Gahagan mark."
Napoleon (to Montholon). "C'est vrai, Montholon: je vous donne ma parole d'honneur la plus sacree, que c'est vrai. Ils ne sont pas d'autres, ces terribles Ga'gans. You must know that Monsieur gained the battle of Delhi as certainly as I did that of Austerlitz. In this way:- Ce belitre de Lor Lake, after calling up his cavalry, and placing them in front of Holkar's batteries, qui balayaient la plaine, was for charging the enemy's batteries with his horse, who would have been ecrases, mitrailles, foudroyes to a man but for the cunning of ce grand rogue que vous voyez."
Montholon. "Coquin de Major, va!"
Napoleon. "Montholon! tais-toi. When Lord Lake, with his great bull-headed English obstinacy, saw the facheuse position into which he had brought his troops, he was for dying on the spot, and would infallibly have done so--and the loss of his army would have been the ruin of the East India Company--and the ruin of the English East India Company would have established my Empire (bah! it was a republic then!) in the East--but that the man before us, Lieutenant Goliah Gahagan, was riding at the side of General Lake."
Montholon (with an accent of despair and fury). "Gredin! cent mille tonnerres de Dieu!"
Napoleon (benignantly). "Calme-toi, mon fidele ami. What will you? It was fate. Gahagan, at the critical period of the battle, or rather slaughter (for the English had not slain a man of the enemy), advised a retreat."
Montholon. "Le lache! Un Francais meurt, mais il ne recule jamais."
Napoleon. "Stupide! Don't you see why the retreat was ordered? -- don't you know that it was a feint on the part of Gahagan to draw Holkar from his impregnable entrenchments? Don't you know that the ignorant Indian fell into the snare, and issuing from behind the cover of his guns, came down with his cavalry on the plains in pursuit of Lake and his dragoons? Then it was that the Englishmen turned upon him; the hardy children of the North swept down his feeble horsemen, bore them back to their guns, which were useless, entered Holkar's entrenchments along with his troops, sabred the artillerymen at their pieces, and won the battle of Delhi!"
As the Emperor spoke, his pale cheek glowed red, his eye flashed fire, his deep clear voice rung as of old when he pointed out the enemy from beneath the shadow of the Pyramids, or rallied his regiments to the charge upon the death-strewn plain of Wagram. I have had many a proud moment in my life, but never such a proud one as this; and I would readily pardon the word "coward," as applied to me by Montholon, in consideration of the testimony which his master bore in my favour.
"Major," said the Emperor to me in conclusion, "why had I not such a man as you in my service? I would have made you a Prince and a Marshal!" and here he fell into a reverie, of which I knew and respected the purport. He was thinking, doubtless, that I might have retrieved his fortunes; and indeed I have very little doubt that I might.
Very soon after, coffee was brought by Monsieur Marchand, Napoleon's valet-de-chambre, and after partaking of that beverage, and talking upon the politics of the day, the Emperor withdrew, leaving me deeply impressed by the condescension he had shown in this remarkable interview.
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"id": "1935"
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3
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A PEEP INTO SPAIN--ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND SERVICES
OF THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS
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HEADQUARTERS, MORELLA: September 15, 1838 I have been here for some months, along with my young friend Cabrera: and in the hurry and bustle of war--daily on guard and in the batteries for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four, with fourteen severe wounds and seven musket-balls in my body--it may be imagined that I have had little time to think about the publication of my memoirs. Inter arma silent leges--in the midst of fighting be hanged to writing! as the poet says; and I never would have bothered myself with a pen, had not common gratitude incited me to throw off a few pages.
Along with Oraa's troops, who have of late been beleaguering this place, there was a young Milesian gentleman, Mr. Toone O'Connor Emmett Fitzgerald Sheeny by name, a law student, and a member of Gray's Inn, and what he called Bay Ah of Trinity College, Dublin. Mr. Sheeny was with the Queen's people, not in a military capacity, but as representative of an English journal; to which, for a trifling weekly remuneration, he was in the habit of transmitting accounts of the movements of the belligerents, and his own opinion of the politics of Spain. Receiving, for the discharge of his duty, a couple of guineas a week from the proprietors of the journal in question, he was enabled, as I need scarcely say, to make such a show in Oraa's camp as only a Christino general officer, or at the very least a colonel of a regiment, can afford to keep up.
In the famous sortie which we made upon the twenty-third, I was of course among the foremost in the melee, and found myself, after a good deal of slaughtering (which it would be as disagreeable as useless to describe here), in the court of a small inn or podesta, which had been made the headquarters of several Queenite officers during the siege. The pesatero or landlord of the inn had been despatched by my brave chapel-churies, with his fine family of children--the officers quartered in the podesta had of course bolted; but one man remained, and my fellows were on the point of cutting him into ten thousand pieces with their borachios, when I arrived in the room time enough to prevent the catastrophe. Seeing before me an individual in the costume of a civilian--a white hat, a light blue satin cravat, embroidered with butterflies and other quadrupeds, a green coat and brass buttons, and a pair of blue plaid trousers, I recognised at once a countryman, and interposed to save his life.
In an agonised brogue the unhappy young man was saying all that he could to induce the chapel-churies to give up their intention of slaughtering him; but it is very little likely that his protestations would have had any effect upon them, had not I appeared in the room, and shouted to the ruffians to hold their hand.
Seeing a general officer before them (I have the honour to hold that rank in the service of His Catholic Majesty), and moreover one six feet four in height, and armed with that terrible cabecilla (a sword so called, because it is five feet long) which is so well known among the Spanish armies--seeing, I say, this figure, the fellows retired, exclaiming, "Adios, corpo di bacco nosotros," and so on, clearly proving (by their words) that they would, if they dared, have immolated the victim whom I had thus rescued from their fury. "Villains!" shouted I, hearing them grumble, "away! quit the apartment!" Each man, sulkily sheathing his sombrero, obeyed, and quitted the camarilla.
It was then that Mr. Sheeny detailed to me the particulars to which I have briefly adverted; and, informing me at the same time that he had a family in England who would feel obliged to me for his release, and that his most intimate friend the English Ambassador would move heaven and earth to revenge his fall, he directed my attention to a portmanteau passably well filled, which he hoped would satisfy the cupidity of my troops. I said, though with much regret, that I must subject his person to a search; and hence arose the circumstance which has called for what I fear you will consider a somewhat tedious explanation. I found upon Mr. Sheeny's person three sovereigns in English money (which I have to this day), and singularly enough a copy of the New Monthly Magazine, containing a portion of my adventures. It was a toss-up whether I should let the poor young man be shot or no, but this little circumstance saved his life. The gratified vanity of authorship induced me to accept his portmanteau and valuables, and to allow the poor wretch to go free. I put the Magazine in my coat-pocket, and left him and the podesta.
The men, to my surprise, had quitted the building, and it was full time for me to follow; for I found our sallying party, after committing dreadful ravages in Oraa's lines, were in full retreat upon the fort, hotly pressed by a superior force of the enemy. I am pretty well known and respected by the men of both parties in Spain (indeed I served for some months on the Queen's side before I came over to Don Carlos); and, as it is my maxim never to give quarter, I never expect to receive it when taken myself. On issuing from the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau and my sword in my hand, I was a little disgusted and annoyed to see our own men in a pretty good column retreating at double-quick, and about four hundred yards beyond me, up the hill leading to the fort; while on my left hand, and at only a hundred yards, a troop of the Queenite lancers were clattering along the road.
I had got into the very middle of the road before I made this discovery, so that the fellows had a full sight of me, and whizz! came a bullet by my left whisker before I could say Jack Robinson. I looked round--there were seventy of the accursed malvados at the least, and within, as I said, a hundred yards. Were I to say that I stopped to fight seventy men, you would write me down a fool or a liar: no, sir, I did not fight, I ran away.
I am six feet four--my figure is as well known in the Spanish army as that of the Count de Luchana, or my fierce little friend Cabrera himself. "GAHAGAN!" shouted out half-a-dozen scoundrelly voices, and fifty more shots came rattling after me. I was running-- running as the brave stag before the hounds--running as I have done a great number of times before in my life, when there was no help for it but a race.
After I had run about five hundred yards, I saw that I had gained nearly three upon our column in front, and that likewise the Christino horsemen were left behind some hundred yards more; with the exception of three, who were fearfully near me. The first was an officer without a lance; he had fired both his pistols at me, and was twenty yards in advance of his comrades; there was a similar distance between the two lancers who rode behind him. I determined then to wait for No. 1, and as he came up delivered cut 3 at his horse's near leg--off it flew, and down, as I expected, went horse and man. I had hardly time to pass my sword through my prostrate enemy, when No. 2 was upon me. If I could but get that fellow's horse, thought I, I am safe; and I executed at once the plan which I hoped was to effect my rescue.
I had, as I said, left the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau, and, unwilling to part with some of the articles it contained--some shirts, a bottle of whisky, a few cakes of Windsor soap, &c. &c.,-- I had carried it thus far on my shoulders, but now was compelled to sacrifice it malgre moi. As the lancer came up, I dropped my sword from my right hand, and hurled the portmanteau at his head, with aim so true, that he fell back on his saddle like a sack, and thus when the horse galloped up to me, I had no difficulty in dismounting the rider: the whisky-bottle struck him over his right eye, and he was completely stunned. To dash him from the saddle and spring myself into it, was the work of a moment; indeed, the two combats had taken place in about a fifth part of the time which it has taken the reader to peruse the description. But in the rapidity of the last encounter, and the mounting of my enemy's horse, I had committed a very absurd oversight--I was scampering away WITHOUT MY SWORD! What was I to do? --to scamper on, to be sure, and trust to the legs of my horse for safety!
The lancer behind me gained on me every moment, and I could hear his horrid laugh as he neared me. I leaned forward jockey-fashion in my saddle, and kicked, and urged, and flogged with my hand, but all in vain. Closer--closer--the point of his lance was within two feet of my back. Ah! ah! he delivered the point, and fancy my agony when I felt it enter--through exactly fifty-nine pages of the New Monthly Magazine. Had it not been for that Magazine, I should have been impaled without a shadow of a doubt. Was I wrong in feeling gratitude? Had I not cause to continue my contributions to that periodical?
When I got safe into Morella, along with the tail of the sallying party, I was for the first time made acquainted with the ridiculous result of the lancer's thrust (as he delivered his lance, I must tell you that a ball came whizz over my head from our fellows, and entering at his nose, put a stop to his lancing for the future). I hastened to Cabrera's quarter, and related to him some of my adventures during the day.
"But, General," said he, "you are standing. I beg you chiudete l'uscio (take a chair)."
I did so, and then for the first time was aware that there was some foreign substance in the tail of my coat, which prevented my sitting at ease. I drew out the Magazine which I had seized, and there, to my wonder, discovered the Christino lance twisted up like a fish-hook or a pastoral crook.
"Ha! ha! ha!" said Cabrera (who is a notorious wag).
"Valdepenas madrilenos," growled out Tristany.
"By my cachuca di caballero (upon my honour as a gentleman)," shrieked out Ros d'Eroles, convulsed with laughter, "I will send it to the Bishop of Leon for a crozier."
"Gahagan has CONSECRATED it," giggled out Ramon Cabrera; and so they went on with their muchacas for an hour or more. But, when they heard that the means of my salvation from the lance of the scoundrelly Christino had been the Magazine containing my own history, their laugh was changed into wonder. I read them (speaking Spanish more fluently than English) every word of my story. "But how is this?" said Cabrera. "You surely have other adventures to relate?"
"Excellent sir," said I, "I have;" and that very evening, as we sat over our cups of tertullia (sangaree), I continued my narrative in nearly the following words:- "I left off in the very middle of the battle of Delhi, which ended, as everybody knows, in the complete triumph of the British arms. But who gained the battle? Lord Lake is called Viscount Lake of Delhi and Laswaree, while Major Gaha--nonsense, never mind HIM, never mind the charge he executed when, sabre in hand, he leaped the six-foot wall in the mouth of the roaring cannon, over the heads of the gleaming pikes; when, with one hand seizing the sacred peishcush, or fish--which was the banner always borne before Scindiah,--he, with his good sword, cut off the trunk of the famous white elephant, which, shrieking with agony, plunged madly into the Mahratta ranks, followed by his giant brethren, tossing, like chaff before the wind, the affrighted kitmatgars. He, meanwhile, now plunging into the midst of a battalion of consomahs, now cleaving to the chine a screaming and ferocious bobbachee, {4} rushed on, like the simoom across the red Zaharan plain, killing, with his own hand, a hundred and forty-thr--but never mind--'ALONE HE DID IT;' sufficient be it for him, however, that the victory was won: he cares not for the empty honours which were awarded to more fortunate men!
"We marched after the battle to Delhi, where poor blind old Shah Allum received us, and bestowed all kinds of honours and titles on our General. As each of the officers passed before him, the Shah did not fail to remark my person, {5} and was told my name.
"Lord Lake whispered to him my exploits, and the old man was so delighted with the account of my victory over the elephant (whose trunk I use to this day), that he said, 'Let him be called GUJPUTI,' or the lord of elephants; and Gujputi was the name by which I was afterwards familiarly known among the natives,--the men, that is. The women had a softer appellation for me, and called me 'Mushook,' or charmer.
"Well, I shall not describe Delhi, which is doubtless well known to the reader; nor the siege of Agra, to which place we went from Delhi; nor the terrible day at Laswaree, which went nigh to finish the war. Suffice it to say that we were victorious, and that I was wounded; as I have invariably been in the two hundred and four occasions when I have found myself in action. One point, however, became in the course of this campaign QUITE evident--THAT SOMETHING MUST BE DONE FOR GAHAGAN. The country cried shame, the King's troops grumbled, the sepoys openly murmured that their Gujputi was only a lieutenant, when he had performed such signal services. What was to be done? Lord Wellesley was in an evident quandary. 'Gahagan,' wrote he, 'to be a subaltern is evidently not your fate- -YOU WERE BORN FOR COMMAND; but Lake and General Wellesley are good officers, they cannot be turned out--I must make a post for you. What say you, my dear fellow, to a corps of IRREGULAR HORSE?'
"It was thus that the famous corps of AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS had its origin; a guerilla force, it is true, but one which will long be remembered in the annals of our Indian campaigns.
* * * "As the commander of this regiment, I was allowed to settle the uniform of the corps, as well as to select recruits. These were not wanting as soon as my appointment was made known, but came flocking to my standard a great deal faster than to the regular corps in the Company's service. I had European officers, of course, to command them, and a few of my countrymen as sergeants; the rest were all natives, whom I chose of the strongest and bravest men in India; chiefly Pitans, Afghans, Hurrumzadehs, and Calliawns: for these are well known to be the most warlike districts of our Indian territory.
"When on parade and in full uniform we made a singular and noble appearance. I was always fond of dress; and, in this instance gave a carte blanche to my taste, and invented the most splendid costume that ever perhaps decorated a soldier. I am, as I have stated already, six feet four inches in height, and of matchless symmetry and proportion. My hair and beard are of the most brilliant auburn, so bright as scarcely to be distinguished at a distance from scarlet. My eyes are bright blue, overshadowed by bushy eyebrows of the colour of my hair, and a terrific gash of the deepest purple, which goes over the forehead, the eyelid, and the cheek, and finishes at the ear, gives my face a more strictly military appearance than can be conceived. When I have been drinking (as is pretty often the case) this gash becomes ruby bright, and as I have another which took off a piece of my under- lip, and shows five of my front teeth, I leave you to imagine that 'seldom lighted on the earth' (as the monster Burke remarked of one of his unhappy victims) 'a more extraordinary vision.' I improved these natural advantages; and, while in cantonment during the hot winds at Chittybobbary, allowed my hair to grow very long, as did my beard, which reached to my waist. It took me two hours daily to curl my hair in ten thousand little corkscrew ringlets, which waved over my shoulders, and to get my moustaches well round to the corners of my eyelids. I dressed in loose scarlet trousers and red morocco boots, a scarlet jacket, and a shawl of the same colour round my waist; a scarlet turban three feet high, and decorated with a tuft of the scarlet feathers of the flamingo, formed my head-dress, and I did not allow myself a single ornament, except a small silver skull and cross-bones in front of my turban. Two brace of pistols, a Malay creese, and a tulwar, sharp on both sides, and very nearly six feet in length, completed this elegant costume. My two flags were each surmounted with a real skull and cross-bones, and ornamented one with a black, and the other with a red beard (of enormous length, taken from men slain in battle by me). On one flag were of course the arms of John Company; on the other, an image of myself bestriding a prostrate elephant, with the simple word 'GUJPUTI' written underneath in the Nagaree, Persian, and Sanscrit characters. I rode my black horse, and looked, by the immortal gods, like Mars. To me might be applied the words which were written concerning handsome General Webb, in Marlborough's time:- "'To noble danger he conducts the way, His great example all his troop obey, Before the front the Major sternly rides, With such an air as Mars to battle strides. Propitious Heaven must sure a hero save Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave!'
"My officers (Captains Biggs and Mackanulty, Lieutenants Glogger, Pappendick, Stuffle, &c. &c.) were dressed exactly in the same way, but in yellow; and the men were similarly equipped, but in black. I have seen many regiments since, and many ferocious-looking men, but the Ahmednuggar Irregulars were more dreadful to the view than any set of ruffians on which I ever set eyes. I would to Heaven that the Czar of Muscovy had passed through Cabool and Lahore, and that I with my old Ahmednuggars stood on a fair field to meet him! Bless you, bless you, my swart companions in victory! through the mist of twenty years I hear the booming of your war-cry, and mark the glitter of your scimitars as ye rage in the thickest of the battle! {6} "But away with melancholy reminiscences. You may fancy what a figure the Irregulars cut on a field-day--a line of five hundred black-faced, black-dressed, black-horsed, black-bearded men--Biggs, Glogger, and the other officers in yellow, galloping about the field like flashes of lightning; myself enlightening them, red, solitary, and majestic, like yon glorious orb in heaven.
"There are very few men, I presume, who have not heard of Holkar's sudden and gallant incursion into the Dooab, in the year 1804, when we thought that the victory of Laswaree and the brilliant success at Deeg had completely finished him. Taking ten thousand horse he broke up his camp at Palimbang; and the first thing General Lake heard of him was, that he was at Putna, then at Rumpooge, then at Doncaradam--he was, in fact, in the very heart of our territory.
"The unfortunate part of the affair was this:- His Excellency, despising the Mahratta chieftain, had allowed him to advance about two thousand miles in his front, and knew not in the slightest degree where to lay hold on him. Was he at Hazarubaug? was he at Bogly Gunge? nobody knew, and for a considerable period the movements of Lake's cavalry were quite ambiguous, uncertain, promiscuous, and undetermined.
"Such, briefly, was the state of affairs in October 1804. At the beginning of that month I had been wounded (a trifling scratch, cutting off my left upper eyelid, a bit of my cheek, and my under- lip), and I was obliged to leave Biggs in command of my Irregulars, whilst I retired for my wounds to an English station at Furruckabad, alias Futtyghur--it is, as every twopenny postman knows, at the apex of the Dooab. We have there a cantonment, and thither I went for the mere sake of the surgeon and the sticking- plaster.
"Furruckabad, then, is divided into two districts or towns: the lower Cotwal, inhabited by the natives, and the upper (which is fortified slightly, and has all along been called Futtyghur, meaning in Hindustanee 'the-favourite-resort-of-the-white-faced- Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram'), occupied by Europeans. (It is astonishing, by the way, how comprehensive that language is, and how much can be conveyed in one or two of the commonest phrases.)
"Biggs, then, and my men were playing all sorts of wondrous pranks with Lord Lake's army, whilst I was detained an unwilling prisoner of health at Futtyghur.
"An unwilling prisoner, however, I should not say. The cantonment at Futtyghur contained that which would have made any man a happy slave. Woman, lovely woman, was there in abundance and variety! The fact is, that, when the campaign commenced in 1803, the ladies of the army all congregated to this place, where they were left, as it was supposed, in safety. I might, like Homer, relate the names and qualities of all. I may at least mention SOME whose memory is still most dear to me. There was - "Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, wife of Bulcher of the Infantry.
"Miss Bulcher.
"MISS BELINDA BULCHER (whose name I beg the printer to place in large capitals).
"Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy.
"Mrs. Major Macan and the four Misses Macan.
"The Honourable Mrs. Burgoo, Mrs. Flix, Hicks, Wicks, and many more too numerous to mention. The flower of our camp was, however, collected there, and the last words of Lord Lake to me, as I left him, were, 'Gahagan, I commit those women to your charge. Guard them with your life, watch over them with your honour, defend them with the matchless power of your indomitable arm.'
"Futtyghur is, as I have said, a European station, and the pretty air of the bungalows, amid the clustering topes of mango-trees, has often ere this excited the admiration of the tourist and sketcher. On the brow of a hill--the Burrumpooter river rolls majestically at its base; and no spot, in a word, can be conceived more exquisitely arranged, both by art and nature, as a favourite residence of the British fair. Mrs. Bulcher, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and the other married ladies above mentioned, had each of them delightful bungalows and gardens in the place, and between one cottage and another my time passed as delightfully as can the hours of any man who is away from his darling occupation of war.
"I was the commandant of the fort. It is a little insignificant pettah, defended simply by a couple of gabions, a very ordinary counterscarp, and a bomb-proof embrasure. On the top of this my flag was planted, and the small garrison of forty men only were comfortably barracked off in the casemates within. A surgeon and two chaplains (there were besides three reverend gentlemen of amateur missions, who lived in the town), completed, as I may say, the garrison of our little fortalice, which I was left to defend and to command.
"On the night of the first of November, in the year 1804, I had invited Mrs. Major-General Bulcher and her daughters, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and, indeed, all the ladies in the cantonment, to a little festival in honour of the recovery of my health, of the commencement of the shooting season, and indeed as a farewell visit, for it was my intention to take dawk the very next morning and return to my regiment. The three amateur missionaries whom I have mentioned, and some ladies in the cantonment of very rigid religious principles, refused to appear at my little party. They had better never have been born than have done as they did: as you shall hear.
"We had been dancing merrily all night, and the supper (chiefly of the delicate condor, the luscious adjutant, and other birds of a similar kind, which I had shot in the course of the day) had been duly feted by every lady and gentleman present; when I took an opportunity to retire on the ramparts, with the interesting and lovely Belinda Bulcher. I was occupied, as the French say, in CONTER-ing fleurettes to this sweet young creature, when, all of a sudden, a rocket was seen whizzing through the air, and a strong light was visible in the valley below the little fort. " 'What, fireworks! Captain Gahagan,' said Belinda; 'this is too gallant.' " 'Indeed, my dear Miss Bulcher,' said I, 'they are fireworks of which I have no idea: perhaps our friends the missionaries--' "'Look, look!' said Belinda, trembling, and clutching tightly hold of my arm: 'what do I see? yes--no--yes! it is--OUR BUNGALOW IS IN FLAMES!'
"It was true, the spacious bungalow occupied by Mrs. Major-General was at that moment seen a prey to the devouring element--another and another succeeded it--seven bungalows, before I could almost ejaculate the name of Jack Robinson, were seen blazing brightly in the black midnight air!
"I seized my night-glass, and looking towards the spot where the conflagration raged, what was my astonishment to see thousands of black forms dancing round the fires; whilst by their lights I could observe columns after columns of Indian horse, arriving and taking up their ground in the very middle of the open square or tank, round which the bungalows were built! " 'Ho, warder!' shouted I (while the frightened and trembling Belinda clung closer to my side, and pressed the stalwart arm that encircled her waist), 'down with the drawbridge! see that your masolgees' (small tumbrels which are used in place of large artillery) 'be well loaded: you, sepoys, hasten and man the ravelin! you, choprasees, put out the lights in the embrasures! we shall have warm work of it to-night, or my name is not Goliah Gahagan.'
"The ladies, the guests (to the number of eighty-three), the sepoys, choprasees, masolgees, and so on, had all crowded on the platform at the sound of my shouting, and dreadful was the consternation, shrill the screaming, occasioned by my words. The men stood irresolute and mute with terror; the women, trembling, knew scarcely whither to fly for refuge. 'Who are yonder ruffians?' said I. A hundred voices yelped in reply--some said the Pindarees, some said the Mahrattas, some vowed it was Scindiah, and others declared it was Holkar--no one knew. " 'Is there any one here,' said I, 'who will venture to reconnoitre yonder troops?' There was a dead pause. " 'A thousand tomauns to the man who will bring me news of yonder army!' again I repeated. Still a dead silence. The fact was that Scindiah and Holkar both were so notorious for their cruelty, that no one dared venture to face the danger. 'Oh for fifty of my brave Ahmednuggarees!' thought I. "'Gentlemen,' said I, 'I see it--you are cowards--none of you dare encounter the chance even of death. It is an encouraging prospect: know you not that the ruffian Holkar, if it be he, will with to- morrow's dawn beleaguer our little fort, and throw thousands of men against our walls? know you not that, if we are taken, there is no quarter, no hope; death for us--and worse than death for these lovely ones assembled here?' Here the ladies shrieked and raised a howl as I have heard the jackals on a summer's evening. Belinda, my dear Belinda! flung both her arms round me, and sobbed on my shoulder (or in my waistcoat-pocket rather, for the little witch could reach no higher). " 'Captain Gahagan,' sobbed she, 'Go-Go-Goggle-iah!' " 'My soul's adored!' replied I. "'Swear to me one thing.' " 'I swear.' " 'That if--that if--the nasty, horrid, odious black Mah-ra-a-a- attahs take the fort, you will put me out of their power.'
"I clasped the dear girl to my heart, and swore upon my sword that, rather than she should incur the risk of dishonour, she should perish by my own hand. This comforted her; and her mother, Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, and her elder sister, who had not until now known a word of our attachment, (indeed, but for these extraordinary circumstances, it is probable that we ourselves should never have discovered it), were under these painful circumstances made aware of my beloved Belinda's partiality for me. Having communicated thus her wish of self-destruction, I thought her example a touching and excellent one, and proposed to all the ladies that they should follow it, and that at the entry of the enemy into the fort, and at a signal given by me, they should one and all make away with themselves. Fancy my disgust when, after making this proposition, not one of the ladies chose to accede to it, and received it with the same chilling denial that my former proposal to the garrison had met with.
"In the midst of this hurry and confusion, as if purposely to add to it, a trumpet was heard at the gate of the fort, and one of the sentinels came running to me, saying that a Mahratta soldier was before the gate with a flag of truce!
"I went down, rightly conjecturing, as it turned out, that the party, whoever they might be, had no artillery; and received at the point of my sword a scroll of which the following is a translation. " 'To Goliah Gahagan Gujputi. " 'LORD OF ELEPHANTS, SIR,--I have the honour to inform you that I arrived before this place at eight o'clock p.m. with ten thousand cavalry under my orders. I have burned, since my arrival, seventeen bungalows in Furruckabad and Futtyghur, and have likewise been under the painful necessity of putting to death three clergymen (mollahs) and seven English officers, whom I found in the village; the women have been transferred to safe keeping in the harems of my officers and myself. " 'As I know your courage and talents, I shall be very happy if you will surrender the fortress, and take service as a major-general (hookahbadar) in my army. Should my proposal not meet with your assent, I beg leave to state that to-morrow I shall storm the fort, and on taking it, shall put to death every male in the garrison, and every female above twenty years of age. For yourself I shall reserve a punishment, which for novelty and exquisite torture has, I flatter myself, hardly ever been exceeded. Awaiting the favour of a reply, I am, Sir, "'Your very obedient servant, "'JESWUNT ROW HOLKAR. " 'CAMP BEFORE FUTTYGHUR: September 1, 1804. " 'R. S. V. P.' "The officer who had brought this precious epistle (it is astonishing how Holkar had aped the forms of English correspondence), an enormous Pitan soldier, with a shirt of mail, and a steel cap and cape, round which his turban wound, was leaning against the gate on his matchlock, and whistling a national melody. I read the letter, and saw at once there was no time to be lost. That man, thought I, must never go back to Holkar. Were he to attack us now before we were prepared, the fort would be his in half-an-hour.
"Tying my white pocket-handkerchief to a stick, I flung open the gate and advanced to the officer: he was standing, I said, on the little bridge across the moat. I made him a low salaam, after the fashion of the country, and, as he bent forward to return the compliment, I am sorry to say, I plunged forward, gave him a violent blow on the head, which deprived him of all sensation, and then dragged him within the wall, raising the drawbridge after me.
"I bore the body into my own apartment; there, swift as thought, I stripped him of his turban, cammerbund, peijammahs, and papooshes, and, putting them on myself, determined to go forth and reconnoitre the enemy."
* * * Here I was obliged to stop, for Cabrera, Ros d'Eroles, and the rest of the staff, were sound asleep! What I did in my reconnaissance, and how I defended the fort of Futtyghur, I shall have the honour of telling on another occasion.
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{
"id": "1935"
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4
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THE INDIAN CAMP--THE SORTIE FROM THE FORT
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HEADQUARTERS, MORELLA: October 3, 1838 It is a balmy night. I hear the merry jingle of the tambourine, and the cheery voices of the girls and peasants, as they dance beneath my casement, under the shadow of the clustering vines. The laugh and song pass gaily round, and even at this distance I can distinguish the elegant form of Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers gay nothings in the ears of the Andalusian girls, or joins in the thrilling chorus of Riego's hymn, which is ever and anon vociferated by the enthusiastic soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am alone, in the most inaccessible and most bomb-proof tower of our little fortalice; the large casements are open--the wind, as it enters, whispers in my ear its odorous recollections of the orange grove and the myrtle bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant cedar-tree) flares and flickers in the midnight breeze, and disperses its scent and burning splinters on my scroll and the desk where I write--meet implements for a soldier's authorship! --it is CARTRIDGE paper over which my pen runs so glibly, and a yawning barrel of gunpowder forms my rough writing-table. Around me, below me, above me, all--all is peace! I think, as I sit here so lonely, on my country, England! and muse over the sweet and bitter recollections of my early days! Let me resume my narrative, at the point where (interrupted by the authoritative summons of war) I paused on the last occasion.
I left off, I think--(for I am a thousand miles away from proof- sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple TRUTH, must contradict myself a thousand times in the course of my tale)--I think, I say, that I left off at that period of my story, when, Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in command of that fortress, I had just been compelled to make away with his messenger: and, dressed in the fallen Indian's accoutrements, went forth to reconnoitre the force, and, if possible, to learn the intentions of the enemy. However much my figure might have resembled that of the Pitan, and, disguised in his armour, might have deceived the lynx- eyed Mahrattas, into whose camp I was about to plunge, it was evident that a single glance at my fair face and auburn beard would have undeceived the dullest blockhead in Holkar's army. Seizing, then, a bottle of Burgess's walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my hands, and, with the simple aid of a flask of Warren's jet, I made my hair and beard as black as ebony. The Indian's helmet and chain hood covered likewise a great part of my face, and I hoped thus, with luck, impudence, and a complete command of all the Eastern dialects and languages, from Burmah to Afghanistan, to pass scot- free through this somewhat dangerous ordeal.
I had not the word of the night, it is true--but I trusted to good fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, bearing the flag of truce as before; I had scarcely passed on a couple of hundred yards, when lo! a party of Indian horsemen, armed like him I had just overcome, trotted towards me. One was leading a noble white charger, and no sooner did he see me than, dismounting from his own horse, and giving the rein to a companion, he advanced to meet me with the charger; a second fellow likewise dismounted and followed the first: one held the bridle of the horse, while the other (with a multitude of salaams, aleikums, and other genuflexions) held the jewelled stirrup, and kneeling, waited until I should mount.
I took the hint at once: the Indian who had come up to the fort was a great man--that was evident; I walked on with a majestic air, gathered up the velvet reins, and sprung into the magnificent high- peaked saddle. "Buk, buk," said I. "It is good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums, let us ride on." And the whole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping silence, and thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to encounter.
As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting upon my unusual silence (for I suppose, I--that is the Indian--was a talkative officer). "The lips of the Bahawder are closed," said one. "Where are those birds of Paradise, his long-tailed words? they are imprisoned between the golden bars of his teeth!"
"Kush," said his companion, "be quiet! Bobbachy Bahawder has seen the dreadful Feringhee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, the elephant-lord, whose sword reaps the harvest of death; there is but one champion who can wear the papooshes of the elephant-slayer--it is Bobbachy Bahawder!"
"You speak truly, Puneeree Muckun, the Bahawder ruminates on the words of the unbeliever: he is an ostrich, and hatches the eggs of his thoughts."
"Bekhusm! on my nose be it! May the young birds, his actions, be strong and swift in flight."
"May they DIGEST IRON!" said Puneeree Muckun, who was evidently a wag in his way.
"O--ho!" thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me. "It was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder whom I overcame just now! and he is the man destined to stand in my slippers, is he?" and I was at that very moment standing in his own! Such are the chances and changes that fall to the lot of the soldier!
I suppose everybody--everybody who has been in India, at least--has heard the name of Bobbachy Bahawder: it is derived from the two Hindustanee words--bobbachy, general; bahawder, artilleryman. He had entered into Holkar's service in the latter capacity, and had, by his merit and his undaunted bravery in action, attained the dignity of the peacock's feather, which is only granted to noblemen of the first class; he was married, moreover, to one of Holkar's innumerable daughters; a match which, according to the Chronique Scandaleuse, brought more of honour than of pleasure to the poor Bobbachy. Gallant as he was in the field, it was said that in the harem he was the veriest craven alive, completely subjugated by his ugly and odious wife. In all matters of importance the late Bahawder had been consulted by his prince, who had, as it appears (knowing my character, and not caring to do anything rash in his attack upon so formidable an enemy), sent forward the unfortunate Pitan to reconnoitre the fort; he was to have done yet more, as I learned from the attendant Puneeree Muckun, who was, I soon found out, an old favourite with the Bobbachy--doubtless on account of his honesty and love of repartee.
"The Bahawder's lips are closed," said he, at last, trotting up to me; "has he not a word for old Puneeree Muckun?"
"Bismillah, mashallah, barikallah," said I; which means, "My good friend, what I have seen is not worth the trouble of relation, and fills my bosom with the darkest forebodings."
"You could not then see the Gujputi alone, and stab him with your dagger?"
[Here was a pretty conspiracy!] "No, I saw him, but not alone; his people were always with him."
"Hurrumzadeh! it is a pity; we waited but the sound of your jogree (whistle), and straightway would have galloped up and seized upon every man, woman, and child in the fort: however, there are but a dozen men in the garrison, and they have not provision for two days--they must yield; and then hurrah for the moon-faces! Mashallah! I am told the soldiers who first get in are to have their pick. How my old woman, Rotee Muckun, will be surprised when I bring home a couple of Feringhee wives,--ha! ha!"
"Fool!" said I, "be still! --twelve men in the garrison there are twelve hundred! Gahagan himself is as good as a thousand men; and as for food, I saw with my own eyes five hundred bullocks grazing in the courtyard as I entered." This WAS a bouncer, I confess; but my object was to deceive Puneeree Muckun, and give him as high a notion as possible of the capabilities of defence which the besieged had.
"Pooch, pooch," murmured the men; "it is a wonder of a fortress: we shall never be able to take it until our guns come up."
There was hope then! they had no battering-train. Ere this arrived I trusted that Lord Lake would hear of our plight, and march down to rescue us. Thus occupied in thought and conversation, we rode on until the advanced sentinel challenged us, when old Puneeree gave the word, and we passed on into the centre of Holkar's camp.
It was a strange--a stirring sight! The camp-fires were lighted; and round them--eating, reposing, talking, looking at the merry steps of the dancing-girls, or listening to the stories of some Dhol Baut (or Indian improvisatore)--were thousands of dusky soldiery. The camels and horses were picketed under the banyan- trees, on which the ripe mango fruit was growing, and offered them an excellent food. Towards the spot which the golden fish and royal purdahs, floating in the wind, designated as the tent of Holkar, led an immense avenue--of elephants! the finest street, indeed, I ever saw. Each of the monstrous animals had a castle on its back, armed with Mauritanian archers and the celebrated Persian matchlock-men: it was the feeding time of these royal brutes, and the grooms were observed bringing immense toffungs, or baskets, filled with pine-apples, plantains, bananas, Indian corn, and cocoa-nuts, which grow luxuriantly at all seasons of the year. We passed down this extraordinary avenue--no less than three hundred and eighty-eight tails did I count on each side--each tail appertaining to an elephant twenty-five feet high--each elephant having a two-storied castle on its back--each castle containing sleeping and eating rooms for the twelve men that formed its garrison, and were keeping watch on the roof--each roof bearing a flagstaff twenty feet long on its top, the crescent glittering with a thousand gems, and round it the imperial standard,--each standard of silk velvet and cloth-of-gold, bearing the well-known device of Holkar, argent an or gules, between a sinople of the first, a chevron truncated, wavy. I took nine of these myself in the course of a very short time after, and shall be happy, when I come to England, to show them to any gentleman who has a curiosity that way. Through this gorgeous scene our little cavalcade passed, and at last we arrived at the quarters occupied by Holkar.
That celebrated chieftain's tents and followers were gathered round one of the British bungalows which had escaped the flames, and which he occupied during the siege. When I entered the large room where he sat, I found him in the midst of a council of war; his chief generals and viziers seated round him, each smoking his hookah, as is the common way with these black fellows, before, at, and after breakfast, dinner, supper, and bedtime. There was such a cloud raised by their smoke you could hardly see a yard before you- -another piece of good-luck for me--as it diminished the chances of my detection. When, with the ordinary ceremonies, the kitmatgars and consomahs had explained to the prince that Bobbachy Bahawder, the right eye of the Sun of the Universe (as the ignorant heathens called me), had arrived from his mission, Holkar immediately summoned me to the maidaun, or elevated platform, on which he was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, and I, instantly taking off my slippers, falling on my knees, and beating my head against the ground ninety-nine times, proceeded, still on my knees, a hundred and twenty feet through the room, and then up the twenty steps which led to his maidaun--a silly, painful, and disgusting ceremony, which can only be considered as a relic of barbarian darkness, which tears the knees and shins to pieces, let alone the pantaloons. I recommend anybody who goes to India, with the prospect of entering the service of the native rajahs, to recollect my advice, and have them WELL WADDED.
Well, the right eye of the Sun of the Universe scrambled as well as he could up the steps of the maidaun (on which, in rows, smoking, as I have said, the musnuds or general officers were seated), and I arrived within speaking distance of Holkar, who instantly asked me the success of my mission. The impetuous old man thereon poured out a multitude of questions: "How many men are there in the fort?" said he; "how many women? Is it victualled? have they ammunition? Did you see Gahagan Sahib, the commander? did you kill him?"
All these questions Jeswunt Row Holkar puffed out with so many whiffs of tobacco.
Taking a chillum myself, and raising about me such a cloud that, upon my honour as a gentleman, no man at three yards' distance could perceive anything of me except the pillar of smoke in which I was encompassed, I told Holkar, in Oriental language of course, the best tale I could with regard to the fort.
"Sir," said I, "to answer your last question first--that dreadful Gujputi I have seen--and he is alive: he is eight feet, nearly, in height; he can eat a bullock daily (of which he has seven hundred at present in the compound, and swears that during the siege he will content himself with only three a week): he has lost, in battle, his left eye; and what is the consequence? O Ram Gunge" (O thou-with-the-eye-as-bright-as-morning and-with-beard-as-black-as- night), "Goliah Gujputi--NEVER SLEEPS!"
"Ah, you Ghorumsaug (you thief of the world)," said the Prince Vizier, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee--"it's joking you are;"--and there was a universal buzz through the room at the announcement of this bouncer.
"By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu," said I, solemnly (an oath which no Indian was ever known to break), "I swear that so it is: so at least he told me, and I have good cause to know his power. Gujputi is an enchanter: he is leagued with devils; he is invulnerable. Look," said I, unsheathing my dagger-- and every eye turned instantly towards me--"thrice did I stab him with this steel--in the back, once--twice right through the heart; but he only laughed me to scorn, and bade me tell Holkar that the steel was not yet forged which was to inflict an injury upon him."
I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I gave him this somewhat imprudent message.
"Ah, lily-livered rogue!" shouted he out to me, "milk-blooded unbeliever! pale-faced miscreant! lives he after insulting thy master in thy presence? In the name of the Prophet, I spit on thee, defy thee, abhor thee, degrade thee! Take that, thou liar of the universe! and that--and that--and that!"
Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds! every time this old man said, "Take that," he flung some article near him at the head of the undaunted Gahagan--his dagger, his sword, his carbine, his richly ornamented pistols, his turban covered with jewels, worth a hundred thousand crores of rupees--finally, his hookah, snake mouthpiece, silver-bell, chillum and all--which went hissing over my head, and flattening into a jelly the nose of the Grand Vizier.
"Yock muzzee! my nose is off," said the old man, mildly. "Will you have my life, O Holkar? it is thine likewise!" and no other word of complaint escaped his lips.
Of all these missiles, though a pistol and carbine had gone off as the ferocious Indian flung them at my head, and the naked scimitar, fiercely but unadroitly thrown, had lopped off the limbs of one or two of the musnuds as they sat trembling on their omrahs, yet, strange to say, not a single weapon had hurt me. When the hubbub ceased, and the unlucky wretches who had been the victims of this fit of rage had been removed, Holkar's good-humour somewhat returned, and he allowed me to continue my account of the fort; which I did, not taking the slightest notice of his burst of impatience: as indeed it would have been the height of impoliteness to have done, for such accidents happened many times in the day.
"It is well that the Bobbachy has returned," snuffled out the poor Grand Vizier, after I had explained to the Council the extraordinary means of defence possessed by the garrison.
"Your star is bright, O Bahawder! for this very night we had resolved upon an escalade of the fort, and we had sworn to put every one of the infidel garrison to the edge of the sword."
"But you have no battering train," said I. "Bah! we have a couple of ninety-six pounders, quite sufficient to blow the gates open; and then, hey for a charge!" said Loll Mahommed, a general of cavalry, who was a rival of Bobbachy's, and contradicted, therefore, every word I said. "In the name of Juggernaut, why wait for the heavy artillery? Have we not swords? Have we not hearts? Mashallah! Let cravens stay with Bobbachy, all true men will follow Loll Mahommed! Allahhumdillah, Bismillah, Barikallah?" {7} and drawing his scimitar, he waved it over his head, and shouted out his cry of battle. It was repeated by many of the other omrahs; the sound of their cheers was carried into the camp, and caught up by the men; the camels began to cry, the horses to prance and neigh, the eight hundred elephants set up a scream, the trumpeters and drummers clanged away at their instruments. I never heard such a din before or after. How I trembled for my little garrison when I heard the enthusiastic cries of this innumerable host!
There was but one way for it. "Sir," said I, addressing Holkar, "go out to-night, and you go to certain death. Loll Mahommed has not seen the fort as I have. Pass the gate if you please, and for what? to fall before the fire of a hundred pieces of artillery; to storm another gate, and then another, and then to be blown up, with Gahagan's garrison in the citadel. Who talks of courage? Were I not in your august presence, O star of the faithful, I would crop Loll Mahommed's nose from his face, and wear his ears as an ornament in my own pugree! Who is there here that knows not the difference between yonder yellow-skinned coward and Gahagan Khan Guj--I mean Bobbachy Bahawder? I am ready to fight one, two, three, or twenty of them, at broad-sword, small-sword, single- stick, with fists if you please. By the holy piper, fighting is like mate and dthrink to Ga---to Bobbachy, I mane--whoop! come on, you divvle, and I'll bate the skin off your ugly bones."
This speech had very nearly proved fatal to me, for, when I am agitated, I involuntarily adopt some of the phraseology peculiar to my own country; which is so un-eastern, that, had there been any suspicion as to my real character, detection must indubitably have ensued. As it was, Holkar perceived nothing, but instantaneously stopped the dispute. Loll Mahommed, however, evidently suspected something; for, as Holkar, with a voice of thunder, shouted out; "Tomasha (silence)," Loll sprang forward and gasped out - "My lord! my lord! this is not Bob--" But he could say no more. "Gag the slave!" screamed out Holkar, stamping with fury; and a turban was instantly twisted round the poor devil's jaws. "Ho, furoshes! carry out Loll Mahommed Khan, give him a hundred dozen on the soles of his feet, set him upon a white donkey, and carry him round the camp, with an inscription before him: 'This is the way that Holkar rewards the talkative.'"
I breathed again; and ever as I heard each whack of the bamboo falling on Loll Mahommed's feet, I felt peace returning to my mind, and thanked my stars that I was delivered of this danger.
"Vizier," said Holkar, who enjoyed Loll's roars amazingly, "I owe you a reparation for your nose: kiss the hand of your prince, O Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee! be from this day forth Zoheir u Dowlut!"
The good old man's eyes filled with tears. "I can bear thy severity, O Prince," said he; "I cannot bear thy love. Was it not an honour that your Highness did me just now when you condescended to pass over the bridge of your slave's nose?"
The phrase was by all voices pronounced to be very poetical. The Vizier retired, crowned with his new honours, to bed. Holkar was in high good-humour.
"Bobbachy," said he, "thou, too, must pardon me. A propos, I have news for thee. Your wife, the incomparable Puttee Rooge" (white and red rose), "has arrived in camp."
"My WIFE, my lord!" said I, aghast.
"Our daughter, the light of thine eyes! Go, my son; I see thou art wild with joy. The Princess's tents are set up close by mine, and I know thou longest to join her."
My wife? Here was a complication truly!
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{
"id": "1935"
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5
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THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MY WIFE
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I found Puneeree Muckun, with the rest of my attendants, waiting at the gate, and they immediately conducted me to my own tents in the neighbourhood. I have been in many dangerous predicaments before that time and since, but I don't care to deny that I felt in the present instance such a throbbing of the heart as I never have experienced when leading a forlorn hope, or marching up to a battery.
As soon as I entered the tents a host of menials sprang forward, some to ease me of my armour, some to offer me refreshments, some with hookahs, attar of roses (in great quart bottles), and the thousand delicacies of Eastern life. I motioned them away. "I will wear my armour," said I; "I shall go forth to-night. Carry my duty to the princess, and say I grieve that to-night I have not the time to see her. Spread me a couch here, and bring me supper here: a jar of Persian wine well cooled, a lamb stuffed with pistachio- nuts, a pillaw of a couple of turkeys, a curried kid--anything. Begone! Give me a pipe; leave me alone, and tell me when the meal is ready."
I thought by these means to put off the fair Puttee Rooge, and hoped to be able to escape without subjecting myself to the examination of her curious eyes. After smoking for a while, an attendant came to tell me that my supper was prepared in the inner apartment of the tent (I suppose that the reader, if he be possessed of the commonest intelligence, knows that the tents of the Indian grandees are made of the finest Cashmere Shawls, and contain a dozen rooms at least, with carpets, chimneys, and sash- windows complete). I entered, I say, into an inner chamber, and there began with my fingers to devour my meal in the Oriental fashion, taking, every now and then, a pull from the wine-jar, which was cooling deliciously in another jar of snow.
I was just in the act of despatching the last morsel of a most savoury stewed lamb and rice, which had formed my meal, when I heard a scuffle of feet, a shrill clatter of female voices, and, the curtain being flung open, in marched a lady accompanied by twelve slaves, with moon faces and slim waists, lovely as the houris in Paradise.
The lady herself, to do her justice, was as great a contrast to her attendants as could possibly be: she was crooked, old, of the complexion of molasses, and rendered a thousand times more ugly by the tawdry dress and the blazing jewels with which she was covered. A line of yellow chalk drawn from her forehead to the tip of her nose (which was further ornamented by an immense glittering nose- ring), her eyelids painted bright red, and a large dab of the same colour on her chin, showed she was not of the Mussulman, but the Brahmin faith--and of a very high caste: you could see that by her eyes. My mind was instantaneously made up as to my line of action.
The male attendants had of course quitted the apartment, as they heard the well-known sound of her voice. It would have been death to them to have remained and looked in her face. The females ranged themselves round their mistress, as she squatted down opposite to me.
"And is this," said she, "a welcome, O Khan! after six months' absence, for the most unfortunate and loving wife in all the world? Is this lamb, O glutton! half so tender as thy spouse? Is this wine, O sot! half so sweet as her looks?"
I saw the storm was brewing--her slaves, to whom she turned, kept up a kind of chorus:- "Oh, the faithless one!" cried they. "Oh, the rascal, the false one, who has no eye for beauty, and no heart for love, like the Khanum's!"
"A lamb is not so sweet as love," said I gravely; "but a lamb has a good temper: a wine-cup is not so intoxicating as a woman--but a wine-cup has NO TONGUE, O Khanum Gee!" and again I dipped my nose in the soul-refreshing jar.
The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by my repartees; she and her maidens recommenced their chorus, and chattered and stormed until I lost all patience.
"Retire, friends," said I, "and leave me in peace."
"Stir, on your peril!" cried the Khanum.
So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out my pistols, cocked them, and said, "O houris! these pistols contain each two balls: the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred life for me- -but for you! --by all the saints of Hindustan, four of ye shall die if ye stay a moment longer in my presence!" This was enough; the ladies gave a shriek, and skurried out of the apartment like a covey of partridges on the wing.
Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rather Bobbachy's wife, sat still, a little flurried by the unusual ferocity which her lord had displayed in her presence. I seized her hand and, gripping it close, whispered in her ear, to which I put the other pistol:- "O Khanum, listen and scream not; the moment you scream, you die!" She was completely beaten: she turned as pale as a woman could in her situation, and said, "Speak, Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb."
"Woman," said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the chain cape which had covered almost the whole of my face--"I AM NOT THY HUSBAND--I am the slayer of elephants, the world-renowned GAHAGAN!"
As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over my shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and beard), I formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be conceived, and I recommend it as a subject to Mr. Heath, for the next "Book of Beauty."
"Wretch!" said she, "what wouldst thou?"
"You black-faced fiend," said I, "raise but your voice, and you are dead!"
"And afterwards," said she, "do you suppose that YOU can escape? The torments of hell are not so terrible as the tortures that Holkar will invent for thee."
"Tortures, madam?" answered I, coolly. "Fiddlesticks! You will neither betray me, nor will I be put to the torture: on the contrary, you will give me your best jewels and facilitate my escape to the fort. Don't grind your teeth and swear at me. Listen, madam: you know this dress and these arms;--they are the arms of your husband, Bobbachy Bahawder--MY PRISONER. He now lies in yonder fort, and if I do not return before daylight, at sunrise he dies: and then, when they send his corpse back to Holkar, what will you, his WIDOW, do?
"Oh!" said she, shuddering, "spare me, spare me!"
"I'll tell you what you will do. You will have the pleasure of dying along with him--of BEING ROASTED, madam: an agonising death, from which your father cannot save you, to which he will be the first man to condemn and conduct you. Ha! I see we understand each other, and you will give me over the cash-box and jewels." And so saying I threw myself back with the calmest air imaginable, flinging the pistols over to her. "Light me a pipe, my love," said I, "and then go and hand me over the dollars: do you hear?" You see I had her in my power--up a tree, as the Americans say, and she very humbly lighted my pipe for me, and then departed for the goods I spoke about.
What a thing is luck! If Loll Mahommed had not been made to take that ride round the camp, I should infallibly have been lost.
My supper, my quarrel with the princess, and my pipe afterwards, had occupied a couple of hours of my time. The princess returned from her quest, and brought with her the box, containing valuables to the amount of about three millions sterling. (I was cheated of them afterwards, but have the box still, a plain deal one.) I was just about to take my departure, when a tremendous knocking, shouting, and screaming was heard at the entrance of the tent. It was Holkar himself, accompanied by that cursed Loll Mahommed, who, after his punishment, found his master restored to good-humour, and had communicated to him his firm conviction that I was an impostor.
"Ho, Begum!" shouted he, in the ante-room (for he and his people could not enter the women's apartments), "speak, O my daughter! is your husband returned?"
"Speak, madam," said I, "or REMEMBER THE ROASTING."
"He is, Papa," said the Begum.
"Are you sure? Ho! ho! ho!" (the old ruffian was laughing outside)--"are you sure it is? --Ha! aha! --he-e-e!"
"Indeed it is he, and no other. I pray you, father, to go, and to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter. Have I ever seen the face of any other man?" And hereat she began to weep as if her heart would break--the deceitful minx!
Holkar's laugh was instantly turned to fury. "Oh, you liar and eternal thief!" said he, turning round (as I presume, for I could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, "to make your prince eat such monstrous dirt as this! Furoshes, seize this man. I dismiss him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I appropriate to myself all his property: and hark ye, furoshes, GIVE HIM A HUNDRED DOZEN MORE!"
Again I heard the whacks of the bamboos, and peace flowed into my soul.
* * * Just as morn began to break, two figures were seen to approach the little fortress of Futtyghur: one was a woman wrapped closely in a veil; the other a warrior, remarkable for the size and manly beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a deal box of considerable size. The warrior at the gate gave the word and was admitted; the woman returned slowly to the Indian camp. Her name was Puttee Rooge; his was - G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S.. C.I.H.A.
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{
"id": "1935"
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6
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FAMINE IN THE GARRISON
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Thus my dangers for the night being overcome, I hastened with my precious box into my own apartment, which communicated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with a guard to report if he should recover, and to prevent his escape. My servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard. I called him, and the fellow came, looking very much confused and frightened, as it seemed, at my appearance.
"Why, Ghorumsaug," said I, "what makes thee look so pale, fellow?" (He was as white as a sheet.) "It is thy master, dost thou not remember him?" The man had seen me dress myself in the Pitan's clothes, but was not present when I had blacked my face and beard in the manner I have described.
"O Bramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet!" cried the faithful fellow, "and do I see my dear master disguised in this way? For Heaven's sake let me rid you of this odious black paint; for what will the ladies say in the ballroom, if the beautiful Feringhee should appear amongst them with his roses turned into coal?"
I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time of which I write, when only two-and-twenty, I confess I was a little vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to appear before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor. I allowed Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armour and habiliments which I wore; and having, with a world of scrubbing and trouble, divested my face and beard of their black tinge, I put on my own becoming uniform, and hastened to wait on the ladies; hastened, I say,--although delayed would have been the better word, for the operation of bleaching lasted at least two hours.
"How is the prisoner, Ghorumsaug?" said I, before leaving my apartment.
"He has recovered from the blow which the Lion dealt him; two men and myself watch over him; and Macgillicuddy Sahib (the second in command) has just been the rounds, and has seen that all was secure."
I bade Ghorumsaug help me to put away my chest of treasure (my exultation in taking it was so great that I could not help informing him of its contents); and this done, I despatched him to his post near the prisoner, while I prepared to sally forth and pay my respects to the fair creatures under my protection. "What good after all have I done," thought I to myself, "in this expedition which I had so rashly undertaken?" I had seen the renowned Holkar; I had been in the heart of his camp; I knew the disposition of his troops, that there were eleven thousand of them, and that he only waited for his guns to make a regular attack on the fort. I had seen Puttee Rooge; I had robbed her (I say ROBBED her, and I don't care what the reader or any other man may think of the act) of a deal box, containing jewels to the amount of three millions sterling, the property of herself and husband.
Three millions in money and jewels! And what the deuce were money and jewels to me or to my poor garrison? Could my adorable Miss Bulcher eat a fricassee of diamonds, or, Cleopatra-like, melt down pearls to her tea? Could I, careless as I am about food, with a stomach that would digest anything--(once, in Spain, I ate the leg of a horse during a famine, and was so eager to swallow this morsel that I bolted the shoe, as well as the hoof, and never felt the slightest inconvenience from either)--could I, I say, expect to live long and well upon a ragout of rupees, or a dish of stewed emeralds and rubies? With all the wealth of Croesus before me I felt melancholy; and would have paid cheerfully its weight in carats for a good honest round of boiled beef. Wealth, wealth, what art thou? What is gold? --Soft metal. What are diamonds? -- Shining tinsel. The great wealth-winners, the only fame-achievers, the sole objects worthy of a soldier's consideration, are beefsteaks, gunpowder, and cold iron.
The two latter means of competency we possessed; I had in my own apartments a small store of gunpowder (keeping it under my own bed, with a candle burning for fear of accidents); I had 14 pieces of artillery (4 long 48's and 4 carronades, 5 howitzers, and a long brass mortar, for grape, which I had taken myself at the battle of Assaye), and muskets for ten times my force. My garrison, as I have told the reader in a previous number, consisted of 40 men, two chaplains, and a surgeon; add to these my guests, 83 in number, of whom nine only were gentlemen (in tights, powder, pigtails, and silk stockings, who had come out merely for a dance, and found themselves in for a siege). Such were our numbers:- Troops and artillerymen 40 Ladies 74 Other non-combatants 11 MAJOR-GENERAL O'G.GAHAGAN 1,000 1,125 I count myself good for a thousand, for so I was regularly rated in the army: with this great benefit to it, that I only consumed as much as an ordinary mortal. We were then, as far as the victuals went, 126 mouths; as combatants we numbered 1,040 gallant men, with 12 guns and a fort, against Holkar and his 12,000. No such alarming odds, if - IF! --ay, there was the rub--IF we had SHOT, as well as powder for our guns; IF we had not only MEN but MEAT. Of the former commodity we had only three rounds for each piece. Of the latter, upon my sacred honour, to feed 126 souls, we had but Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer. Of soda-water, four ditto. Two bottles of fine Spanish olives. Raspberry cream--the remainder of two dishes. Seven macaroons, lying in the puddle of a demolished trifle. Half a drum of best Turkey figs. Some bits of broken bread; two Dutch cheeses (whole); the crust of an old Stilton; and about an ounce of almonds and raisins. Three ham-sandwiches, and a pot of currant-jelly, and 197 bottles of brandy, rum, madeira, pale ale (my private stock); a couple of hard eggs for a salad, and a flask of Florence oil.
This was the provision for the whole garrison! The men after supper had seized upon the relics of the repast, as they were carried off from the table; and these were the miserable remnants I found and counted on my return; taking good care to lock the door of the supper-room, and treasure what little sustenance still remained in it.
When I appeared in the saloon, now lighted up by the morning sun, I not only caused a sensation myself, but felt one in my own bosom which was of the most painful description. Oh, my reader! may you never behold such a sight as that which presented itself: eighty- three men and women in ball-dresses; the former with their lank powdered locks streaming over their faces; the latter with faded flowers, uncurled wigs, smudged rouge, blear eyes, draggling feathers, rumpled satins--each more desperately melancholy and hideous than the other--each, except my beloved Belinda Bulcher, whose raven ringlets never having been in curl could of course never go out of curl; whose cheek, pale as the lily, could, as it may naturally be supposed, grow no paler; whose neck and beauteous arms, dazzling as alabaster, needed no pearl-powder, and therefore, as I need not state, did not suffer because the pearl-powder had come off. Joy (deft link-boy!) lit his lamps in each of her eyes as I entered. As if I had been her sun, her spring, lo! blushing roses mantled in her cheek! Seventy-three ladies, as I entered, opened their fire upon me, and stunned me with cross-questions, regarding my adventures in the camp--SHE, as she saw me, gave a faint scream (the sweetest, sure, that ever gurgled through the throat of a woman!) then started up--then made as if she would sit down--then moved backwards--then tottered forwards--then tumbled into my--Psha! why recall, why attempt to describe that delicious-- that passionate greeting of two young hearts? What was the surrounding crowd to us? What cared we for the sneers of the men, the titters of the jealous women, the shrill "Upon my word!" of the elder Miss Bulcher, and the loud expostulations of Belinda's mamma? The brave girl loved me, and wept in my arms. "Goliah! my Goliah!" said she, "my brave, my beautiful, THOU art returned, and hope comes back with thee. Oh! who can tell the anguish of my soul, during this dreadful dreadful night!" Other similar ejaculations of love and joy she uttered; and if I HAD perilled life in her service, if I DID believe that hope of escape there was none, so exquisite was the moment of our meeting, that I forgot all else in this overwhelming joy!
* * * [The Major's description of this meeting, which lasted at the very most not ten seconds, occupies thirteen pages of writing. We have been compelled to dock off twelve-and-a-half; for the whole passage, though highly creditable to his feelings, might possibly be tedious to the reader.]
* * * As I said, the ladies and gentlemen were inclined to sneer, and were giggling audibly. I led the dear girl to a chair, and, scowling round with a tremendous fierceness, which those who know me know I can sometimes put on, I shouted out, "Hark ye! men and women--I am this lady's truest knight--her husband I hope one day to be. I am commander, too, in this fort--the enemy is without it; another word of mockery--another glance of scorn--and, by Heaven, I will hurl every man and woman from the battlements, a prey to the ruffianly Holkar!" This quieted them. I am a man of my word, and none of them stirred or looked disrespectfully from that moment.
It was now my turn to make them look foolish. Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy (whose unfailing appetite is pretty well known to every person who has been in India) cried, "Well, Captain Gahagan, your ball has been so pleasant, and the supper was despatched so long ago, that myself and the ladies would be very glad of a little breakfast." And Mrs. Van giggled as if she had made a very witty and reasonable speech. "Oh! breakfast, breakfast, by all means," said the rest; "we really are dying for a warm cup of tea."
"Is it bohay tay or souchong tay that you'd like, ladies?" says I. "Nonsense, you silly man; any tea you like," said fat Mrs. Van.
"What do you say, then, to some prime GUNPOWDER?" Of course they said it was the very thing.
"And do you like hot rowls or cowld--muffins or crumpets--fresh butter or salt? And you, gentlemen, what do you say to some ilegant divvled-kidneys for yourselves, and just a trifle of grilled turkeys, and a couple of hundthred new-laid eggs for the ladies?"
"Pooh, pooh! be it as you will, my dear fellow," answered they all.
"But stop," says I. "O ladies, O ladies! O gentlemen, gentlemen! that you should ever have come to the quarters of Goliah Gahagan, and he been without--" "What?" said they, in a breath.
"Alas! alas! I have not got a single stick of chocolate in the whole house."
"Well, well, we can do without it."
"Or a single pound of coffee."
"Never mind; let that pass too." (Mrs. Van and the rest were beginning to look alarmed.)
"And about the kidneys--now I remember, the black divvles outside the fort have seized upon all the sheep; and how are we to have kidneys without them?" (Here there was a slight o-o-o!)
"And with regard to the milk and crame, it may be remarked that the cows are likewise in pawn, and not a single drop can be had for money or love: but we can beat up eggs, you know, in the tay, which will be just as good."
"Oh! just as good."
"Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be had-- no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, "nor a stale one either; not a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bohay; nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh; nor hot rowls or cowld!"
"In the name of Heaven!" said Mrs. Van, growing very pale, "what is there, then?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you what there is now," shouted I. "There's "Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer," &c. &c. &c. And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, ending with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly.
"Law! Mr. Gahagan," said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy, "give me the ham-sandwiches--I must manage to breakfast off them."
And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at this modest proposition! Of course I did not accede to it--why should I? I was the commander of the fort, and intended to keep these three very sandwiches for the use of myself and my dear Belinda. "Ladies," said I, "there are in this fort one hundred and twenty- six souls, and this is all the food which is to last us during the siege. Meat there is none--of drink there is a tolerable quantity; and at one o'clock punctually, a glass of wine and one olive shall be served out to each woman: the men will receive two glasses, and an olive and a fig--and this must be your food during the siege. Lord Lake cannot be absent more than three days; and if he be--why, still there is a chance--why do I say a chance? --a CERTAINTY of escaping from the hands of these ruffians."
"Oh, name it, name it, dear Captain Gahagan!" screeched the whole covey at a breath.
"It lies," answered I, "in the powder magazine. I will blow this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey of Holkar."
The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been heard in Holkar's camp, and fainted in different directions; but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, "Well done, thou noble knight! bravely said, my heart's Goliah!" I felt I was right: I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury of that single moment! "And now, ladies," said I, "I must leave you. The two chaplains will remain with you to administer professional consolation--the other gentlemen will follow me upstairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for them."
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{
"id": "1935"
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7
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THE ESCAPE
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Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, where I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my absence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honour); and the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer. Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars, my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named) were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave him out of their sight. The lieutenant was instructed to look to them and to their prisoner; and as Bobbachy was severely injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I considered myself sure of his person.
Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent: this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their prisoner; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I despatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear immediately.
The messenger came back; he was looking ghastly pale: he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined.
The men had fled;--Bobbachy had fled; and in his place, fancy my astonishment when I found--with a rope cutting his naturally wide mouth almost into his ears--with a dreadful sabre-cut across his forehead--with his legs tied over his head, and his arms tied between his legs--my unhappy, my attached friend--Mortimer Macgillicuddy!
He had been in this position for about three hours--it was the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be placed--an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner.
I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position; I poured half-a-bottle of whisky down the immensely enlarged orifice of his mouth; and when he had been released, he informed me of the circumstances that had taken place.
Fool that I was! idiot! --upon my return to the fort, to have been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner--when his escape would have been prevented. O foppery, foppery! --it was that cursed love of personal appearance which had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country, my monarch, and my own honour!
Thus it was that the escape took place:- My own fellow of the Irregulars, whom I had summoned to dress me, performed the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan's disguise, which I had taken from the back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder. What did the rogue do next? --Why, he carried back the dress to the Bobbachy--he put it, once more, on its right owner; he and his infernal black companions (who had been won over by the Bobbachy with promises of enormous reward) gagged Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. The sentinel, thinking it was myself, who had first come in, and was as likely to go out again--(indeed my rascally valet said that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out with him and his two companions to reconnoitre)--opened the gates, and off they went!
This accounted for the confusion of my valet when I entered! --and for the scoundrel's speech, that the lieutenant had JUST BEEN THE ROUNDS;--he HAD, poor fellow, and had been seized and bound in this cruel way. The three men, with their liberated prisoner, had just been on the point of escape, when my arrival disconcerted them: I had changed the guard at the gate (whom they had won over likewise); and yet, although they had overcome poor Mac, and although they were ready for the start, they had positively no means for effecting their escape, until I was ass enough to put means in their way. Fool! fool! thrice besotted fool that I was, to think of my own silly person when I should have been occupied solely with my public duty.
From Macgillicuddy's incoherent accounts, as he was gasping from the effects of the gag and the whisky he had taken to revive him, and from my own subsequent observations, I learned this sad story. A sudden and painful thought struck me--my precious box! --I rushed back, I found that box--I have it still. Opening it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks of bright tomauns, kopeks and rupees, strings of diamonds as big as ducks' eggs, rubies as red as the lips of my Belinda, countless strings of pearls, amethysts, emeralds, piles upon piles of bank-notes--I found--a piece of paper! with a few lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for word, translated:- "EPIGRAM. (On disappointing a certain Major.)
"The conquering lion return'd with his prey, And safe in his cavern he set it; The sly little fox stole the booty away, And, as he escaped, to the lion did say, 'AHA! don't you wish you may get it?'"
Confusion! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cutting lines. I stamped,--I swore,--I don't know to what insane lengths my rage might have carried me, had not at this moment a soldier rushed in, screaming, "The enemy, the enemy!"
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{
"id": "1935"
}
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8
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THE CAPTIVE
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It was high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance. Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with the other, I at once frightened and examined the enemy. Well they knew when they saw that flamingo-plume floating in the breeze--that awful figure standing in the breach--that waving war-sword sparkling in the sky--well, I say, they knew the name of the humble individual who owned the sword, the plume, and the figure. The ruffians were mustered in front, the cavalry behind. The flags were flying, the drums, gongs, tambourines, violoncellos, and other instruments of Eastern music, raised in the air a strange barbaric melody; the officers (yatabals), mounted on white dromedaries, were seen galloping to and fro, carrying to the advancing hosts the orders of Holkar.
You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising as it does on a rock that is almost perpendicular) are defended by the Burrumpooter river, two hundred feet deep at this point, and a thousand yards wide, so that I had no fear about them attacking me in that quarter. My guns, therefore (with their six-and-thirty miserable charges of shot), were dragged round to the point at which I conceived Holkar would be most likely to attack me. I was in a situation that I did not dare to fire, except at such times as I could kill a hundred men by a single discharge of a cannon; so the attacking party marched and marched, very strongly, about a mile and a half off, the elephants marching without receiving the slightest damage from us, until they had come to within four hundred yards of our walls (the rogues knew all the secrets of our weakness, through the betrayal of the dastardly Ghorumsaug, or they never would have ventured so near). At that distance--it was about the spot where the Futtyghur hill began gradually to rise--the invading force stopped; the elephants drew up in a line, at right angles with our wall (the fools! they thought they should expose themselves too much by taking a position parallel to it); the cavalry halted too, and--after the deuce's own flourish of trumpets and banging of gongs, to be sure,--somebody, in a flame-coloured satin dress, with an immense jewel blazing in his pugree (that looked through my telescope like a small but very bright planet), got up from the back of one of the very biggest elephants, and began a speech.
The elephants were, as I said, in a line formed with admirable precision, about three hundred of them. The following little diagram will explain matters:- ....... G | E | | F E is the line of elephants. F is the wall of the fort. G a gun in the fort. Now the reader will see what I did.
The elephants were standing, their trunks waggling to and fro gracefully before them; and I, with superhuman skill and activity, brought the gun G (a devilish long brass gun) to bear upon them. I pointed it myself; bang! it went, and what was the consequence? Why, this:- x ....... G | E | | F F is the fort, as before. G is the gun, as before. E, the elephants, as we have previously seen them. What then is x? x is the line taken by the ball fired from G, which took off ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR ELEPHANTS' TRUNKS, and only spent itself in the tusk of a very old animal, that stood the hundred and thirty-fifth!
I say that such a shot was never fired before or since; that a gun was never pointed in such a way. Suppose I had been a common man, and contented myself with firing bang at the head of the first animal? An ass would have done it, prided himself had he hit his mark, and what would have been the consequence? Why, that the ball might have killed two elephants and wounded a third; but here, probably, it would have stopped, and done no further mischief. The trunk was the place at which to aim; there are no bones there; and away, consequently, went the bullet, shearing, as I have said, through one hundred and thirty-five probosces. Heavens! what a howl there was when the shot took effect! What a sudden stoppage of Holkar's speech! What a hideous snorting of elephants! What a rush backwards was made by the whole army, as if some demon was pursuing them!
Away they went. No sooner did I see them in full retreat, than, rushing forward myself, I shouted to my men, "My friends, yonder lies your dinner!" We flung open the gates--we tore down to the spot where the elephants had fallen: seven of them were killed; and of those that escaped to die of their hideous wounds elsewhere, most had left their trunks behind them. A great quantity of them we seized; and I myself, cutting up with my scimitar a couple of the fallen animals, as a butcher would a calf, motioned to the men to take the pieces back to the fort, where barbecued elephant was served round for dinner, instead of the miserable allowance of an olive and a glass of wine, which I had promised to my female friends, in my speech to them. The animal reserved for the ladies was a young white one--the fattest and tenderest I ever ate in my life: they are very fair eating, but the flesh has an India-rubber flavour, which, until one is accustomed to it, is unpalatable.
It was well that I had obtained this supply, for, during my absence on the works, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy and one or two others had forced their way into the supper-room, and devoured every morsel of the garrison larder, with the exception of the cheeses, the olives, and the wine, which were locked up in my own apartment, before which stood a sentinel. Disgusting Mrs. Van! When I heard of her gluttony, I had almost a mind to eat HER. However, we made a very comfortable dinner off the barbecued steaks, and when everybody had done, had the comfort of knowing that there was enough for one meal more.
The next day, as I expected, the enemy attacked us in great force, attempting to escalade the fort; but by the help of my guns, and my good sword, by the distinguished bravery of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy and the rest of the garrison, we beat this attack off completely, the enemy sustaining a loss of seven hundred men. We were victorious; but when another attack was made, what were we to do? We had still a little powder left, but had fired off all the shot, stones, iron-bars, &c. in the garrison! On this day, too, we devoured the last morsel of our food: I shall never forget Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy's despairing look, as I saw her sitting alone, attempting to make some impression on the little white elephant's roasted tail.
The third day the attack was repeated. The resources of genius are never at an end. Yesterday I had no ammunition; to-day, I discovered charges sufficient for two guns, and two swivels, which were much longer, but had bores of about blunderbuss size.
This time my friend Loll Mahommed, who had received, as the reader may remember, such a bastinadoing for my sake, headed the attack. The poor wretch could not walk, but he was carried in an open palanquin, and came on waving his sword, and cursing horribly in his Hindustan jargon. Behind him came troops of matchlock-men, who picked off every one of our men who showed their noses above the ramparts; and a great host of blackamoors with scaling-ladders, bundles to fill the ditch, fascines, gabions, culverins, demilunes, counterscarps, and all the other appurtenances of offensive war.
On they came; my guns and men were ready for them. You will ask how my pieces were loaded? I answer, that though my garrison were without food, I knew my duty as an officer, and HAD PUT THE TWO DUTCH CHEESES INTO THE TWO GUNS, AND HAD CRAMMED THE CONTENTS OF A BOTTLE OF OLIVES INTO EACH SWIVEL.
They advanced,--whish! went one of the Dutch cheeses,--bang! went the other. Alas! they did little execution. In their first contact with an opposing body, they certainly floored it; but they became at once like so much Welsh-rabbit, and did no execution beyond the man whom they struck down.
"Hogree, pogree, wongree-fum (praise to Allah and the forty-nine Imaums!)" shouted out the ferocious Loll Mahommed when he saw the failure of my shot. "Onward, sons of the Prophet! the infidel has no more ammunition. A hundred thousand lakhs of rupees to the man who brings me Gahagan's head!"
His men set up a shout, and rushed forward--he, to do him justice, was at the very head, urging on his own palanquin-bearers, and poking them with the tip of his scimitar. They came panting up the hill: I was black with rage, but it was the cold concentrated rage of despair. "Macgillicuddy," said I, calling that faithful officer, "you know where the barrels of powder are?" He did. "You know the use to make of them?" He did. He grasped my hand. "Goliah," said he, "farewell! I swear that the fort shall be in atoms, as soon as yonder unbelievers have carried it. Oh, my poor mother!" added the gallant youth, as sighing, yet fearless, he retired to his post.
I gave one thought to my blessed, my beautiful Belinda, and then, stepping into the front, took down one of the swivels;--a shower of matchlock balls came whizzing round my head. I did not heed them.
I took the swivel, and aimed coolly. Loll Mahommed, his palanquin, and his men, were now not above two hundred yards from the fort. Loll was straight before me, gesticulating and shouting to his men. I fired--bang!!!
I aimed so true, that ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN BEST SPANISH OLIVES WERE LODGED IN A LUMP IN THE FACE OF THE UNHAPPY LOLL MAHOMMED. The wretch, uttering a yell the most hideous and unearthly I ever heard, fell back dead; the frightened bearers flung down the palanquin and ran--the whole host ran as one man: their screams might be heard for leagues. "Tomasha, tomasha," they cried, "it is enchantment!" Away they fled, and the victory a third time was ours. Soon as the fight was done, I flew back to my Belinda. We had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, but I forgot hunger in the thought of once more beholding her!
The sweet soul turned towards me with a sickly smile as I entered, and almost fainted in my arms; but alas! it was not love which caused in her bosom an emotion so strong--it was hunger! "Oh! my Goliah," whispered she, "for three days I have not tasted food--I could not eat that horrid elephant yesterday; but now--oh! Heaven! --" She could say no more, but sank almost lifeless on my shoulder. I administered to her a trifling dram of rum, which revived her for a moment, and then rushed downstairs, determined that if it were a piece of my own leg, she should still have something to satisfy her hunger. Luckily I remembered that three or four elephants were still lying in the field, having been killed by us in the first action, two days before. Necessity, thought I, has no law; my adorable girl must eat elephant, until she can get something better.
I rushed into the court where the men were, for the most part, assembled. "Men," said I, "our larder is empty; we must fill it as we did the day before yesterday. Who will follow Gahagan on a foraging party?" I expected that, as on former occasions, every man would offer to accompany me.
To my astonishment, not a soul moved--a murmur arose among the troops; and at last one of the oldest and bravest came forward.
"Captain," he said, "it is of no use; we cannot feed upon elephants for ever; we have not a grain of powder left, and must give up the fort when the attack is made to-morrow. We may as well be prisoners now as then, and we won't go elephant-hunting any more."
"Ruffian!" I said, "he who first talks of surrender, dies!" and I cut him down. "Is there anyone else who wishes to speak?"
No one stirred.
"Cowards! miserable cowards!" shouted I; "what, you dare not move for fear of death at the hands of those wretches who even now fled before your arms--what, do I say your arms? --before MINE! --alone I did it; and as alone I routed the foe, alone I will victual the fortress! Ho! open the gate!"
I rushed out; not a single man would follow. The bodies of the elephants that we had killed still lay on the ground where they had fallen, about four hundred yards from the fort. I descended calmly the hill, a very steep one, and coming to the spot, took my pick of the animals, choosing a tolerably small and plump one, of about thirteen feet high, which the vultures had respected. I threw this animal over my shoulders, and made for the fort.
As I marched up the acclivity, whizz--piff--whirr! came the balls over my head; and pitter-patter, pitter-patter! they fell on the body of the elephant like drops of rain. The enemy were behind me; I knew it, and quickened my pace. I heard the gallop of their horse: they came nearer, nearer; I was within a hundred yards of the fort--seventy--fifty! I strained every nerve; I panted with the superhuman exertion--I ran--could a man run very fast with such a tremendous weight on his shoulders?
Up came the enemy; fifty horsemen were shouting and screaming at my tail. O Heaven! five yards more--one moment--and I am saved. It is done--I strain the last strain--I make the last step--I fling forward my precious burden into the gate opened wide to receive me and it, and--I fall! The gate thunders to, and I am left on the outside! Fifty knives are gleaming before my bloodshot eyes--fifty black hands are at my throat, when a voice exclaims, "Stop! --kill him not, it is Gujputi!" A film came over my eyes--exhausted nature would bear no more.
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{
"id": "1935"
}
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9
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SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR
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When I awoke from the trance into which I had fallen, I found myself in a bath, surrounded by innumerable black faces; and a Hindoo pothukoor (whence our word apothecary) feeling my pulse and looking at me with an air of sagacity.
"Where am I?" I exclaimed, looking round and examining the strange faces, and the strange apartment which met my view. "Bekhusm!" said the apothecary. "Silence! Gahagan Sahib is in the hands of those who know his valour, and will save his life."
"Know my valour, slave? Of course you do," said I; "but the fort-- the garrison--the elephant--Belinda, my love--my darling-- Macgillicuddy--the scoundrelly mutineers--the deal bo- " I could say no more; the painful recollections pressed so heavily upon my poor shattered mind and frame, that both failed once more. I fainted again, and I know not how long I lay insensible.
Again, however, I came to my senses: the pothukoor applied restoratives, and after a slumber of some hours I awoke, much refreshed. I had no wound; my repeated swoons had been brought on (as indeed well they might) by my gigantic efforts in carrying the elephant up a steep hill a quarter of a mile in length. Walking, the task is bad enough: but running, it is the deuce; and I would recommend any of my readers who may be disposed to try and carry a dead elephant, never, on any account, to go a pace of more than five miles an hour.
Scarcely was I awake, when I heard the clash of arms at my door (plainly indicating that sentinels were posted there), and a single old gentleman, richly habited, entered the room. Did my eyes deceive me? I had surely seen him before. No--yes--no--yes--it was he: the snowy white beard, the mild eyes, the nose flattened to a jelly, and level with the rest of the venerable face, proclaimed him at once to be--Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee, Holkar's Prime Vizier; whose nose, as the reader may recollect, his Highness had flattened with his kaleawn during my interview with him in the Pitan's disguise. I now knew my fate but too well--I was in the hands of Holkar.
Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee slowly advanced towards me, and with a mild air of benevolence which distinguished that excellent man (he was torn to pieces by wild horses the year after, on account of a difference with Holkar), he came to my bedside and, taking gently my hand, said, "Life and death, my son, are not ours. Strength is deceitful, valour is unavailing, fame is only wind--the nightingale sings of the rose all night--where is the rose in the morning? Booch, booch! it is withered by a frost. The rose makes remarks regarding the nightingale, and where is that delightful song-bird? Pena-bekhoda, he is netted, plucked, spitted, and roasted! Who knows how misfortune comes? It has come to Gahagan Gujputi!"
"It is well," said I, stoutly, and in the Malay language. "Gahagan Gujputi will bear it like a man."
"No doubt--like a wise man and a brave one; but there is no lane so long to which there is not a turning, no night so black to which there comes not a morning. Icy winter is followed by merry springtime--grief is often succeeded by joy."
"Interpret, O riddler!" said I; "Gahagan Khan is no reader of puzzles--no prating mollah. Gujputi loves not words, but swords."
"Listen then, O Gujputi: you are in Holkar's power."
"I know it."
"You will die by the most horrible tortures to-morrow morning."
"I dare say."
"They will tear your teeth from your jaws, your nails from your fingers, and your eyes from your head."
"Very possibly."
"They will flay you alive, and then burn you."
"Well; they can't do any more."
"They will seize upon every man and woman in yonder fort"--it was not then taken! --"and repeat upon them the same tortures."
"Ha! Belinda! Speak--how can all this be avoided?"
"Listen. Gahagan loves the moon-face called Belinda."
"He does, Vizier, to distraction."
"Of what rank is he in the Koompani's army?"
"A captain."
"A miserable captain--oh, shame! Of what creed is he?"
"I am an Irishman, and a Catholic."
"But he has not been very particular about his religious duties?"
"Alas, no!"
"He has not been to his mosque for these twelve years?" " 'Tis too true."
"Hearken now, Gahagan Khan. His Highness Prince Holkar has sent me to thee. You shall have the moon-face for your wife--your second wife, that is;--the first shall be the incomparable Puttee Rooge, who loves you to madness;--with Puttee Rooge, who is the wife, you shall have the wealth and rank of Bobbachy Bahawder, of whom his Highness intends to get rid. You shall be second in command of his Highness's forces. Look, here is his commission signed with the celestial seal, and attested by the sacred names of the forty-nine Imaums. You have but to renounce your religion and your service, and all these rewards are yours."
He produced a parchment, signed as he said, and gave it to me (it was beautifully written in Indian ink: I had it for fourteen years, but a rascally valet, seeing it very dirty, washed it, forsooth, and washed off every bit of the writing). I took it calmly, and said, "This is a tempting offer. O Vizier, how long wilt thou give me to consider of it?"
After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I promised to give him an answer. My mind, however, was made up--as soon as he was gone, I threw myself on the sofa and fell asleep.
* * * At the end of the six hours the Vizier came back: two people were with him; one, by his martial appearance, I knew to be Holkar, the other I did not recognise. It was about midnight.
"Have you considered?" said the Vizier, as he came to my couch.
"I have," said I, sitting up,--I could not stand, for my legs were tied, and my arms fixed in a neat pair of steel handcuffs. "I have," said I, "unbelieving dogs! I have. Do you think to pervert a Christian gentleman from his faith and honour? Ruffian blackamoors! do your worst; heap tortures on this body, they cannot last long. Tear me to pieces: after you have torn me into a certain number of pieces, I shall not feel it; and if I did, if each torture could last a life, if each limb were to feel the agonies of a whole body, what then? I would bear all--all--all-- all--all--ALL!" My breast heaved--my form dilated--my eye flashed as I spoke these words. "Tyrants!" said I, "dulce et decorum est pro patria mori." Having thus clinched the argument, I was silent.
The venerable. Grand Vizier turned away; I saw a tear trickling down his cheeks.
"What a constancy!" said he. "Oh, that such beauty and such bravery should be doomed so soon to quit the earth!"
His tall companion only sneered and said, "AND BELINDA--?"
"Ha!" said I, "ruffian, be still! --Heaven will protect her spotless innocence. Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest me too! Who, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies? Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring? Who slew thy generals? Who slew thy elephants? Three hundred mighty beasts went forth to battle: of these I slew one hundred and thirty-five! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever! Gahagan hates thee, spurns thee, spits on thee!"
Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a scream of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch me at once (it was the very thing I wished for), when the third person sprang forward and, seizing his arm, cried - "Papa! oh, save him!" It was Puttee Rooge! "Remember," continued she, "his misfortunes--remember, oh, remember my--love!" --and here she blushed, and putting one finger into her mouth, and hanging down her head, looked the very picture of modest affection.
Holkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, "'Tis better as it is; had I killed him now, I had spared him the torture. None of this shameless fooling, Puttee Rooge," continued the tyrant, dragging her away. "Captain Gahagan dies three hours from hence." Puttee Rooge gave one scream and fainted--her father and the Vizier carried her off between them; nor was I loth to part with her, for, with all her love, she was as ugly as the deuce.
They were gone--my fate was decided. I had but three hours more of life: so I flung myself again on the sofa, and fell profoundly asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers to be in the same situation, and to be hanged themselves, let me earnestly entreat them to adopt this plan of going to sleep, which I for my part have repeatedly found to be successful. It saves unnecessary annoyance, it passes away a great deal of unpleasant time, and it prepares one to meet like a man the coming catastrophe.
* * * Three o'clock came: the sun was at this time making his appearance in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were appointed to conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was carried out, and was set on the very white donkey on which Loll Mahommed was conducted through the camp after he was bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored to his rank and state; troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all sides; my ass was conducted by the common executioner: a crier went forward, shouting out, "Make way for the destroyer of the faithful--he goes to bear the punishment of his crimes." We came to the fatal plain: it was the very spot whence I had borne away the elephant, and in full sight of the fort. I looked towards it. Thank Heaven! King George's banner waved on it still--a crowd were gathered on the walls--the men, the dastards who had deserted me--and women, too. Among the latter I thought I distinguished ONE who--O gods! the thought turned me sick--I trembled and looked pale for the first time.
"He trembles! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder, ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy.
"Dog!" shouted I--(I was sitting with my head to the donkey's tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face)--"not so pale as you looked when I felled you with this arm--not so pale as your women looked when I entered your harem!" Completely chop-fallen, the Indian ruffian was silent: at any rate, I had done for HIM.
We arrived at the place of execution. A stake, a couple of feet thick and eight high, was driven in the grass: round the stake, about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to which were attached two fetters; in these my wrists were placed. Two or three executioners stood near, with strange-looking instruments: others were blowing at a fire, over which was a cauldron, and in the embers were stuck prongs and other instruments of iron.
The crier came forward and read my sentence. It was the same in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day previous by the Grand Vizier. I confess I was too agitated to catch every word that was spoken.
Holkar himself, on a tall dromedary, was at a little distance. The Grand Vizier came up to me--it was his duty to stand by, and see the punishment performed. "It is yet time!" said he.
I nodded my head, but did not answer.
The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible anguish, and with a voice choking with emotion, said, "EXECUTIONER--DO--YOUR-- DUTY!"
The horrid man advanced--he whispered sulkily in the ears of the Grand Vizier, "Guggly ka ghee, hum khedgeree," said he, "THE OIL DOES NOT BOIL YET--wait one minute." The assistants blew, the fire blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew a few feet aside: taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, he advanced - * * * "Whish! bang, bang! pop!" the executioner was dead at my feet, shot through the head; the ladle of scalding oil had been dashed in the face of the unhappy Grand Vizier, who lay on the plain, howling. "Whish! bang! pop! Hurrah! --charge! --forwards! --cut them down! --no quarter!"
I saw--yes, no, yes, no, yes! --I saw regiment upon regiment of galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying natives. First of the host, I recognised, O Heaven! my AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS! On came the gallant line of black steeds and horsemen; swift swift before them rode my officers in yellow--Glogger, Pappendick, and Stuffle; their sabres gleamed in the sun, their voices rung in the air. "D- them!" they cried, "give it them, boys!" A strength supernatural thrilled through my veins at that delicious music: by one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from its foundation, five feet in the ground. I could not release my hands from the fetters, it is true; but, grasping the beam tightly, I sprung forward--with one blow I levelled the five executioners in the midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can; with the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy's palanquin off their legs; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the small of the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing soldiers!
The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, Pappendick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that wild chase had swept far away. We were alone: I was freed from my immense bar; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord Lake trotted up with his staff, he found me sitting on it.
"Look at Gahagan," said his Lordship. "Gentlemen, did I not tell you we should be sure to find him AT HIS POST?"
The gallant old nobleman rode on: and this was the famous BATTLE OF FURRUCKABAD, or SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought on the 17th of November, 1804.
* * * About a month afterwards, the following announcement appeared in the Boggleywollah Hurkaru and other Indian papers:- "Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O'Grady Gahagan, Commanding Irregular Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C.B. His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride; and, after a splendid dejeuner, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect, however, that Mars must not always be at her side. The Irregulars are nothing without their leader."
Such was the paragraph--such the event--the happiest in the existence of G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A. Footnotes: {1} So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will stand in any climate, that I repeatedly heard poor Macgillicuddy relate the following fact. The hours, as it is known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four: THE DAY MAC LANDED AT NAPLES HIS REPEATER RUNG THE ITALIAN HOURS, FROM ONE TO TWENTY-FOUR; as soon as he crossed the Alps it only sounded as usual. --G. O'G. G. {2} In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small swords:- miserable weapons, only fit for tailors. --G. O'G. G. {3} The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr. Cunningham's office; but it contained no extract from a newspaper, and does not quite prove that he killed a rhinoceros and stormed fourteen entrenchments at the siege of Allyghur.
{4} The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader may recollect is mentioned by Suidas (in his Commentary on the Flight of Darius), is so called by the Mahrattas.
{5} There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major's part. Shah Allum was notoriously blind: how, then, could he have seen Gahagan? The thing is manifestly impossible.
{6} I do not wish to brag of my style of writing, or to pretend that my genius as a writer has not been equalled in former times; but if, in the works of Byron, Scott, Goethe, or Victor Hugo, the reader can find a more beautiful sentence than the above, I will be obliged to him, that is all--I simply say, I will be obliged to him. --G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A. {7} The Major has put the most approved language into the mouths of his Indian characters. Bismillah, Barikallah, and so on, according to the novelists, form the very essence of Eastern conversation.
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{
"id": "1935"
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1
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: A Startling Proposal.
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On March 3rd, 1516, the trading vessel the Swan dropped anchor at Plymouth. She would in our days be considered a tiny craft indeed, but she was then looked upon as a large vessel, and one of which her owner, Master Diggory Beggs, had good reason to be proud. She was only of some eighty tons burden, but there were few ships that sailed out from Plymouth of much larger size; and Plymouth was even then rising into importance as a seaport, having flourished mightily since the downfall of its once successful rival--Fowey. Large ships were not needed in those days, for the only cargoes sent across the sea were costly and precious goods, which occupied but small space. The cloths of the Flemings, the silks and satins of Italy, the produce of the East, which passed first through the hands of the Venetian and Genoese merchants, and the wines of France and Spain were the chief articles of commerce. Thus the freight for a vessel of eighty tons was a heavy venture, and none but merchants of wealth and position would think of employing larger ships. In this respect the Spaniards and the Italian Republics were far ahead of us, and the commerce of England was a small thing, indeed, in comparison with that of Flanders.
In Plymouth, however, the Swan was regarded as a goodly ship; and Master Diggory Beggs was heartily congratulated, by his acquaintances, when the news came that the Swan was sailing up the Sound, having safely returned from a voyage to Genoa.
As soon as the anchor was dropped and the sails were furled, the captain, Reuben Hawkshaw, a cousin of Master Beggs, took his place in the boat, accompanied by his son Roger, a lad of sixteen, and was rowed by two sailors to the landing place. They were delayed for a few minutes there by the number of Reuben's acquaintances, who thronged round to shake him by the hand; but as soon as he had freed himself of these, he strode up the narrow street from the quays to the house of Master Diggory.
Reuben Hawkshaw was a tall, powerfully built man, weatherbeaten and tanned from his many comings and goings upon the sea; with a voice that could be heard in the loudest storm, and a fierce look--but, as his men knew, gentle and kind at heart, though very daring; and having, as it seemed, no fear of danger either from man or tempest.
Roger was large boned and loosely jointed, and was likely some day to fill out into as big a man as his father, who stood over six-feet-two without his shoes.
Reuben was wont to complain that he, himself, was too big for shipboard.
"If a crew were men wholly of my size," he would say, "a ship would be able to carry but a scant crew; for, lie they as close as they would, there would not be room for a full complement below."
For indeed, in those days space was precious, and on board a ship men were packed well-nigh as close as they could lie; having small thought of comfort, and being well content if there was room to turn, without angering those lying next on either side.
The merchant, who was so stout and portly that he offered a strong contrast to his cousin, rose from his desk as the latter entered.
"I am glad, indeed, to see you back, Cousin Reuben; and trust that all has fared well with you."
"Indifferent well, Cousin Diggory. We have a good stock of Italian goods on board; but as, of course, these took up but a small portion of her hold, I put into Cadiz on my way back. There I filled up with three-score barrels of Spanish wine, which will, I warrant me, return good profit on the price I paid for them."
"And you have met with no accidents or adventures, Reuben?"
"Not more than is useful. We had a fight with some Moorish pirates, who coveted the goods with which, as they doubtless guessed, we were laden; but we beat them off stoutly, with a loss of only six men killed among us. We had bad weather coming up the Portugal Coast, and had two men washed overboard; and we had another stabbed in a drunken brawl in the street. And besides these there are, of course, many who were wounded in the fight with the Moors and in drunken frays ashore; but all are doing well, and the loss of a little blood will not harm them, so our voyage may be termed an easy and pleasant one.
"That is well," the merchant said, in a tone of satisfaction. "We cannot expect a voyage like this to pass without accident.
"And how are you, Roger?" he asked, turning to the boy, who was standing near the door with his cap in his hand, until it should please his elders to address him.
"I am well, I thank you, Master Diggory. It is seldom that anything ails with me. I trust that Mistress Mercy and my cousins are well."
"You had best go upstairs, and see them for yourself, Roger. Your father and I have weighty matters to talk over, and would fain be alone."
Roger was glad to escape from the merchant's counting house and, bowing to his cousin, went off with a quiet step; which, after he had closed the door behind him, was changed into a rapid bound as he ascended the stairs.
"Gently, Roger," Mistress Beggs said, as he entered the room where she and her two daughters were sitting, at work. "We are truly glad to see you, but you must remember that we stay-at-home people are not accustomed to the boisterous ways of the sea."
The reproof was administered in a kindly tone, but Roger colored to the hair; for indeed, in his delight at being back again, he had forgotten the manners that were expected from a lad of his age, on shore. However, he knew that, although Mistress Beggs was somewhat precise in her ways, she was thoroughly kind; and always treated him as if he were a nephew of her own, rather than a young cousin of her husband's. He therefore recovered at once from his momentary confusion, and stepped forward to receive the salute Mistress Beggs always gave him, on his return from his voyages.
"Dorothy, Agnes, you remember your Cousin Roger?"
The two girls, who had remained seated at their work--which had, however, made but little progress since their father had run in, two hours before, to say that the Swan was signaled in the Sound--now rose, and each made a formal courtesy, and then held up her cheek to be kissed, according to the custom of the day; but there was a little smile of amusement on their faces that would have told a close observer that, had their mother not been present, their greeting would have been a warmer and less ceremonious one.
"Well, well, Roger," Mistress Beggs went on, "it is marvelous to see how fast you grow! Why, it is scarce six months since you sailed away, and you seem half a head taller than you were when you went! And so the Swan has returned safely, without damage or peril?"
"No damage to speak of, Cousin Mercy, save for a few shot holes in her hull, and a good many patches on her side--the work of a Moorish corsair, with whom we had a sharp brush by the way."
"And was there loss of life, Roger?"
"We have come back nine hands shorter than we sailed with, and there are a few on board still unfit for hard work."
"And did you fight, Cousin Roger?" Dorothy Beggs asked.
"I did what I could with my bow, until I got alongside, and then joined in the melee as well as I could. The heathen fought bravely, but they were not a match for our men; being wanting in weight and strength, and little able to stand up against the crushing blows of our axes. But they are nimble and quick with their curved swords; and the fierceness of their faces, and their shouting, would have put men out of countenance who had less reason to be confident than ours."
"And the trading has gone well?" asked Mistress Beggs, who was known to have a keen eye to the main chance.
"I believe that my father's well satisfied, Cousin Mercy, and that the venture has turned out fully as well as he looked for."
"That is well, Roger.
"Do you girls go on with your work. You can sew while you are listening. I will go and see that the preparations for dinner are going on regularly, for the maids are apt to give way to talk and gossip, when they know that the Swan is in."
As soon as she had left the room, the two girls threw down their work and, running across to Roger, saluted him most heartily.
"That is a much better welcome," Roger said, "than the formal greetings you before gave me. I wonder what Cousin Mercy would have said, had she chanced to come in again."
"Mother guessed well enough what it would be, when we were alone together," Dorothy said, laughing. "She always thinks it right on special occasions to keep us to our manners, and to make us sure that we know how it is becoming to behave; but you know well, Roger, that she is not strict with us generally, and likes us to enjoy ourselves. When we are staying up at the farm with Aunt Peggy, she lets us run about as we will; and never interferes with us, save when our spirits carry us away altogether. I think we should be glad if we always lived in the country.
"But now, Roger, let us hear much more about your voyage, and the fight with the Moors. Are they black men?"
"Not at all, Dorothy. They are not very much darker than our own fishermen, when they are bronzed by the sun and wind. There are black men who live somewhere near their country, and there were several of these fighting with them. These blacks are bigger men than the Moors, and have thick lips and wide mouths. I believe that they live as slaves among the Moors, but those who were with them fought as bravely as they did; and it needed a man with a stout heart to engage with them, so ugly were their faces."
"Were you not terrified, Roger?"
"I was frightened at first, Dorothy, and felt a strange weakness in my knees, as they began to swarm up the ship's side; but it passed off when the scuffle began. You see, there was no time to think about it. We all had to do our best, and even had I been frightened ever so badly, I hope that I should not have showed it, for it would have brought shame upon my father as well as myself; but in truth I thought little about it, one way or the other. There they were on the deck, and had to be driven back again; and we set about the work like Englishmen and honest men and, thanks to our pikes and axes, we had not very much trouble about it; especially when we once became fairly angered, on seeing some of our friends undone by the heathen.
"I myself would rather go through two or three such fights, than encounter such another storm as we had off the coast of Portugal, for four days. It seemed that we must be lost, the waves were of such exceeding bigness--far surpassing anything I had ever seen before. My heart was in my mouth scores of times, and over and over again I thought that she would never rise again, so great was the weight of water that poured over her. Truly it was the mercy of God which alone saved us, for I believe that even my father thought the ship would be beaten to pieces, though he kept up a show of confidence in order to inspirit the men. However, at the end of the fourth day the gale abated; but it was days before the great sea went down, the waves coming in long regular hills, which seemed to me as big as those which we have here in Devonshire; but smooth and regular, so that while we rolled mightily, there was naught to fear from them."
"I should not like to be a sailor," Agnes said. "It would be far better, Roger, were you to come into our father's counting house. You know he would take you into his business, did Cousin Reuben desire it."
Roger laughed.
"I should make but a poor penman, Agnes. I love the sea dearly, and it is seldom that we have such gales to meet as that; and after all, it is no worse to be drowned than it is to come to any other death. I am well content, cousin, with matters as they are; and would not stay ashore and spend my life in writing, not to be as rich as the greatest merchant in Plymouth. I almost wish, sometimes, I had been born a Spaniard or a Portugal; for then I might have a chance of sailing to wondrous new countries, instead of voyaging only in European waters."
"It seems to me that you have plenty to see as it is, Roger," Dorothy said.
"I do not say nay to that," Roger assented; "but I do not see why Spain and Portugal should claim all the Indies, East and West, and keep all others from going there."
"But the pope has given the Indies to them," Dorothy said.
"I don't see that they were the pope's to give," Roger replied. "That might do for the king, and his minister Wolsey, and the bishops; but when in time all the people have read, as we do, Master Wycliffe's Bible, they will come to see that there is no warrant for the authority the pope claims; and then we may, perhaps, take our share of these new discoveries."
"Hush, Roger! You should not speak so loud about the Bible. You know that though there are many who read it, it is not a thing to be spoken of openly; and that it would bring us all into sore trouble, were anyone to hear us speak so freely as you have done. There has been burning of Lollards, and they say that Wolsey is determined to root out all the followers of Wycliffe."
"It will take him some trouble to do that," Roger said, shrugging his shoulders. "Still, I will be careful, Dorothy, for I would not on any account bring trouble upon you, here. But, thank Heaven, England is not Spain, where men are forever being tortured and burned for their religion. The English would never put up with that. It may be that there will be persecution, but methinks it is rather those whose opinions lead them to make speeches that are regarded as seditious, and who stir up the people into discontent, who fall into trouble; and that, as long as folks hold their own opinions in peace and quiet, and trouble not others, neither king nor cardinal will seek to interfere with them.
"It is not so in Spain. There, upon the slightest suspicion that a man or woman holds views differing from those of the priests, he is dragged away and thrown into the prisons of the Inquisition, and tortured and burned."
Mistress Mercy now returned, and she and the girls busied themselves in laying the table for dinner.
That evening, after Mistress Mercy, the girls, and Roger had retired to bed, Reuben Hawkshaw and his cousin had a long talk together, concerning the next voyage of the Swan. After Master Diggory had discussed the chances of a voyage to the low countries, or another trip to the Mediterranean, Reuben, who had been silently listening to him, said: "Well, Cousin Diggory, to tell you the truth, I have been turning over a project that seems to me to offer a chance of greater profit, though I deem it not without risk. That is the case, of course, with all trading affairs; and, as you know, the greater the risk the greater the profit, so the question to be considered is whether the profit is in fair proportion to the risk run. I think that it is, in this case, and I am ready to risk my life in carrying it out. It is for you to consider whether you are ready to risk your venture."
"What is it, Reuben? There are no other voyages that I know of; unless, indeed, you think of sailing up to Constantinople, and trading with the Grand Turk."
"My thoughts go farther afield still, Diggory. It is a matter I have thought over for some time, and when I was at Cadiz the other day I made many inquiries, and these have confirmed me in my opinions on the matter. You know that the Spaniards are gaining huge wealth from the Indies, and I heard at Cadiz that, after the conquest they made, a year since, of the island they call Cuba, the stores of precious things brought home were vast indeed. As you know, they bring from there gold and spices and precious woods, and articles of native workmanship of all kinds."
"I know all that, Reuben; and also that, like dogs in the manger, they suffer none others to sail those seas; and that no English ship has ever yet traversed those waters."
"That is so, Diggory; but by all I hear the number of islands is large, and there are reports that there lies, farther west, a great land from which it is they procure, chiefly, the gold and silver and precious things. Now it seems to me that, were the matter secretly conducted, so that no news could be sent to Spain, a ship might slip out and cruise there, dealing with the natives, and return richly stored with treasures.
"The Swan is a fast sailer and, did she fall in with the Spanish ships, would show them a clean pair of heels. Of course she would avoid the places where the Spaniards have forts and garrisons, and touch only at those at which, I hear, they trade but little;" and he took out a scroll from his bosom, unrolled it, and showed it to be a map.
"This I purchased, for ten gold pieces, of a Spanish captain who had come to poverty and disgrace from his ship being cast away, while he was asleep in liquor, in his cabin--a fault which is rare among the Spaniards, and therefore thought all the more of. I met him in Cadiz, at a wine shop near the port. He told me his story as we drank together, for he spoke Dutch, having traded much with the Low Countries.
"He took out a map, to show me some of the places at which he had had adventures. I said that the thing was curious, and would buy it of him, if he was disposed to sell. He said that it would be as much as his life were worth to part with it, to an Englishman; and, indeed, that it was only captains of ships trading in those seas who were allowed to have them, seeing that all matters connected with the islands were held as a state secret. After some trouble and chaffering, however, he agreed to make me an exact copy, and to sell it me for ten gold pieces.
"This is the copy. It is exact, for I compared it with the original, before I paid for it. Now here, you see, are laid down the position and bearing of all the islands, together with all the ports and places where the Spaniards have their settlements. This line over here represents the mainland, but it is, as you see, but vaguely drawn; seeing that, except at one or two points, the Spaniards themselves have but little knowledge of it. Now it seems that, with the help of this, I might so navigate the Swan as to avoid much risk of falling in with the Dons; and might yet make a shift to fill up the ship with goods of all kinds, such as would sell here for great prices. I know, of course, that were we taken we should be killed without mercy; but in the first place they would have to catch us, which would not be easy; and in the second to capture us, which, methinks would be more difficult still, seeing that a crew of stout Devonshire lads, fighting with halters round their necks, would give a good account of themselves, even if overhauled by a great Spanish galleon.
"What think you of the scheme, Cousin Diggory?"
"It is a perilous one, certainly, Reuben," the merchant replied, after a long silence. "There is the risk of the loss of the ship and all her freight, and there is the risk of the loss of your life and of those of the crew; and I would rather lose even the Swan, Reuben, than that harm should come to you and Roger. Then it may well be that, even if you carried the scheme to a successful end, and returned laden with wealth, the king and his counselors, when the matter came to their ears--which it would be sure to do on your return, for it would make a prodigious talk--might be grievously offended, accuse us of embroiling England with Spain, confiscate the cargo, visit me with fine and imprisonment, and treat you and the crew as pirates."
"I do not fear that," Reuben said. "Our relations with Spain have grown cold, lately, and there is a talk of peace between us and France. In the next place, I should say that the king would be mightily glad to see a chance of us English having a finger in this pie, that the Spaniards want to keep to themselves; and that he will perceive that great advantage will arise, from our obtaining a share of the trade with the Indies. There is a rare jealousy in the country, at the Spaniards and Portugals keeping all the trade of both the Indies in their hands; and methinks that, even if he judged it necessary to make a show of displeasure against the men who led the way in this matter, there would in the end be much honor, as well as profit, in this venture."
"It is a grave matter, Reuben, and one not to be undertaken without much thought and calculation. Still, I own that the proposal is a tempting one, and that the possession of this map, which I will examine at my leisure, would help you much in your enterprise. Truly, as you say, although the king might frown, there would be much honor as well as profit in being the first English merchant to dispatch a ship to the Spanish main. I love not the Spaniards and, like all Englishmen who think as I do on matters of religion, have viewed with much disfavor our alliance with men who are such cruel persecutors of all who are not of their religion."
"I hate them," Reuben Hawkshaw said, energetically. "They swagger as if they were the lords of the world, and hold all others as of no account beside them. If you resolve on this enterprise I shall, of course, do my utmost to avoid them; but should they try to lay hand on us, I shall be right glad to show them that we Englishmen hold ourselves fully a match for them."
"Well, well, we must not think of that," Diggory Beggs said, hastily; "but, nevertheless, cousin, if the Swan sails for those seas, I will see that she is well provided with ordnance and small arms, so that she shall be able to hold her own with those who would meddle with her."
"That is all I ask, Diggory. We shan't meddle with them, if they do not meddle with us; but if they treat us as pirates, to be slain without form of trial, they must not blame us if we act as pirates when they come upon us. They hold that they are beyond the law, when they are once beyond sight of land, going westward; and we have only to take them at their word.
"As to piracy, if the things that are whispered as to their cruelty to the natives be true, pirates are an innocent and kindly folk compared to them. They openly proclaim that all found in these seas, which they claim as their own, will be treated as enemies and slain without mercy; and we shall be, therefore, fully justified in treating as an enemy any Spanish ship that we may come across; and holding her as a fair prize, if we are strong enough to take her."
"But you must not go out with that intent, Reuben. If I fit out the Swan to go to the Indies, it is that she may trade honestly with such natives as are ready to trade with her, and not that she may wage war against the Spaniards."
"I quite understand that, Cousin Diggory," Reuben Hawkshaw said, with a grim smile; "and that also is my intent, if the Spaniards will but let me adhere to it; only if we are attacked, we must defend ourselves. If they try to capture us, and we beat them, it is but natural that we should capture them."
"Against that I have nothing to say, Reuben. I can find no authority, in Scripture, for the Spaniards claiming a portion of the seas as their right. The world is all, as it seems to me, open to trade, and neither the pope nor anyone else has a right to parcel it out, for the exclusive use of one or two nations. As we all know, the seas within a mile or two of shore are held to belong, naturally, to those who own the land; but that is a different thing, altogether, to holding that more than half the seas, inasmuch as we know of them, are to be held as private property by Spaniards and Portugals.
"Well, we will say no more about it, at present. There is plenty of time to think it over, while the Swan is unloading. I certainly do not like to take so great a risk as this would be on my own shoulders; but if I could get two or three others to join me, I should be willing enough to embark upon it."
"I need not tell you, Diggory, that it behooves you to be right careful as to those to whom you may broach it. Remember that an incautious word might ruin the enterprise altogether. If so much as a whisper of it reached the ear of the Spanish ambassador in London, he would apply to the king to put a stop to it; and whatever King Harry might think of it, he could hardly permit the Swan to sail in the face of such a remonstrance, for to do so would assuredly embroil him with Spain."
"I will be careful, Reuben; for I see this as well as you do, and shall only speak to men who have, before now, worked with me in joint adventures, and on whose discretion I can surely rely. I will talk the matter over with them, Reuben, first; and if they appear favorably disposed, you shall meet them here, show them your map, and explain your intentions fully to them. If three others join me, in equal shares, I shall propose that, as it is your idea, and as you have obtained this map, you shall have an equal share with each of us in the business; and shall, in addition to your pay as master, take one-fifth of the profits, after payment of expenses. Will that content you?"
"Right well, Cousin Diggory; and from this moment I shall, I can tell you, regard myself as a rich man."
The unloading of the Swan occupied some time. There was no undue haste, in those days. The bales were hoisted by whips from the hold, and then carried up to Master Beggs' warehouse. The sailors had earned a fair time for repose, after the hardships of the voyage, and took matters easily, and it was more than a week before the Swan's hold was empty.
During that time the merchant had not made any allusion, to Reuben, as to their conversation on the evening after the Swan came into port. But Reuben was neither surprised nor anxious at this silence. He knew that his cousin although an enterprising was a cautious man, and had hardly hoped to find his proposal so favorably entertained. He had looked for absolute refusal at first, and expected that he would only arrive at his end after long disputes and discussion. Therefore he doubted not that Diggory was turning the matter over and over in his mind, settling the details, and perhaps broaching the matter to the merchants he had spoken of.
The Swan, once empty, was laid up on the shore; where she dried at low tide, so that she could have her seams caulked, and a coat of pitch laid on below the waterline, and be made tight and sound for any voyage on which she might be dispatched. Reuben Hawkshaw had lost his wife years before and, when in port at Plymouth, always occupied lodgings in a house a short distance from that of his cousin; spending his evenings mostly at Master Diggory's, but refusing to take his breakfast or dinner there.
"I know what is what, cousin," he would say, when the merchant pressed him and Roger to come to breakfast or dinner. "Women are women and, as is only right, they hold to the nicety of things; and nothing displeases them more than for people to come in late for their meals. When I am at work I work, and if when the clock strikes the hour for meals I am in the middle of a job, I see that it is finished before the men knock off. Then there is the matter of washing and cleaning up, for one gathers much dust and dirt in the hold of a ship; so that, do what I would, Roger and I could never reckon upon being punctual, and the matter would weigh on my mind when I ought to be thinking of other things. No, no, Diggory, we will be free men, taking our bite and sup on board, as we can make shift to get them; and then, when work is over, coming with clean hands and a clear mind, to supper with you. When the Swan's hold is empty, it will be time enough to talk about amusement."
The evening after the unlading of the cargo was completed, Master Diggory said to his wife: "Get the table cleared as soon as you can, Mercy, and bring two flasks of that last batch of Spanish wine out of the cellar, and put them and some cups on the board. I have two or three friends coming in, to talk over a matter of business with Reuben and me."
As soon as the table was cleared, Roger asked permission of his aunt to take his cousins for a walk upon the Hoe. This was readily granted, as there was no other room in which they could well be bestowed; and having set the wine upon the table, Dame Mercy retired to look after domestic matters, of which she always found an abundance to occupy her.
In a short time Master Turnbull, Master Streatham, and Master Winslow, three worshipful traders of Plymouth, arrived.
"Cousin Reuben," Master Diggory said, "I have spoken to these good friends of mine in respect of that venture which you proposed to me, and they would fain hear more of it, from your own lips. You can speak with confidence before them; for, whether they agree to cast in their lot with us or not, no word of this matter will pass their lips."
Reuben addressed himself to his task, and that at much greater detail than he had given, when first speaking of the matter to Diggory. He told them what he had gathered from the sea captains, and others, as to the articles with which the Dons traded with the natives. That they were for the most part cheap and common, and that the amount required for a sufficient stock of such merchandise would be very small. Small hand mirrors, strings of colored glass beads, brass rings and trinkets, colored handkerchiefs and bright cloths, were the articles chiefly used in barter. Knives and axes were greatly prized, the natives considering iron to be more valuable than silver or gold. Small bells and brass vessels were also valued, and iron spear and arrow heads were eagerly sought for; but the Spaniards were chary of providing such goods, seeing that they might be used in conflicts against themselves.
Then he produced a list of the stores that would be required for the ship and crew.
"In this matter," he said, "you will think, perhaps, that my demands are excessive; but I am of opinion that money in this way would be well spent. As a rule--though I say it before men accustomed to victualing ships--our crews are vilely provided for. Salt meat they must eat, for no other can be obtained at sea; but it should be of good quality, likewise the other provisions. I want not biscuits that are alive with maggots, nor moldy flour, nor peas or other things that cattle would turn up their noses at. I want everything to be the very best of its kind, with cider good, and sound, and in fair abundance.
"This is not an ordinary voyage. We shall be away for many months, maybe for a year or two; and unless the men are well fed they will assuredly lose their health, and likely enough become mutinous. If we come upon a Spanish ship when three parts of the crew are weak with scurvy, we shall make but a poor fight of it. Therefore, I want to keep my men in good strength and in good heart, and to do this they must be well fed. Such a voyage as this no English ship has ever made before and, cooped up as we shall be in the Swan--for we must carry a great crew--everything depends upon there being no fair ground for grumbling. Many a ship has been lost from the crew being weakened by scurvy, and if you are to bring this enterprise to a good end, I say that there must be no stint in the matter of provisions, and that all must be the very best of their kind.
"I trust that, once out there, we shall be able to obtain an abundance of fruit and vegetables from the natives; for these are things, above all, necessary to keep men's blood sweet on shipboard.
"Then, as to arms. I think we should carry twelve pieces, six of a side; of which four should be of good size, and yet not too large to be quickly handled. In the matter of weight, the Spaniards are sure to have the advantage of us; but if we can shoot much more quickly than they can, it will equalize matters. Then, of course, there will be bows and arrows. I do not hold greatly to the new musketoons--a man can shoot six arrows while he can fire one of them, and that with a straighter and truer aim, though it is true they can carry somewhat farther. Then, of course, there will be pikes, and boarding axes, and a good stock of powder and balls for the cannon. These are the complete lists I have made out.
"Now I hold that we should carry from eighty to a hundred men. These I should pay only the ordinary rate of wage, but each should have an interest in the venture, according to his rank. As to the profits, I would leave it to you, my masters, to reckon; but seeing that in fair trade one can get gold, to say nothing of silver, weight for weight for iron; and other things in proportion; you can judge for yourselves what it will amount to--to say nothing of the chance of our falling in with a Spanish treasure ship, which may be rash enough, regarding us an easy prize, to fall foul of us."
"There is no doubt that the profits will be great, if you return safely home, Master Hawkshaw," Nicholas Turnbull said; "but the chances of that seem but small."
"I think that the chances are good enough to risk my life upon, Master Turnbull," Reuben replied; "and no man can show greater confidence than that. This is the map of which my Cousin Diggory has no doubt spoken to you. You see that the islands are many, and some of them great; and that the places at which the Spaniards have ports are few, in comparison. We have to avoid these, but anywhere else we can open trade with the natives. If we are chased, and find the place too hot for us, we can make away to the mainland and, cruising along there, may come upon places that the Spaniards have never visited, and may there gather great store of gold and silver, without danger. But I wish no one, and certainly not my Cousin Diggory, to enter upon this affair unless with confidence and good heart. I would far rather take a horse and travel to Bristol, and lay my scheme before some of the traders there."
This idea was most distasteful to the traders, for Plymouth regarded Bristol with great jealousy; and Diggory Beggs at once said: "No, no, Reuben. My friend Master Nicholas Turnbull did not mean that he regarded your scheme as hopeless, only that the risks were doubtless great. But we all know that to earn great profit one must run such risk; and the venture, divided between four of us, would not be a very heavy one--that is to say, not beyond what we are justified in periling.
"Would you leave us for a while, Reuben? We will examine these lists that you have made, and reckon up the total cost; and we shall then see the better how much we shall each have to contribute, to make up our venture."
Reuben nodded and, putting on his hat, left the room, saying, "In an hour I will return;" and then strolled over to a tavern much frequented by the masters of the ships in the port.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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2
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: Bound To Unknown Parts.
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When Reuben Hawkshaw returned to the chamber where Diggory Beggs was in conference with the other three traders, he found that these had finished their calculations.
"The matter is settled, Reuben, as far as we are concerned. My three friends and myself will go equal shares in the matter. The value of the Swan is to be taken as part of my contribution, and if she ever comes back again, as we hope she may do, that sum will be deducted from my share of the profits, due allowance being made for what damage or injury she may have suffered. You, it is understood, will take a share of the profits equal to ours, and one-third share will, in the first place, be set aside to be divided among the other officers and crew. It will be left entirely to you to choose your officers and men, and I need not tell you the sort of fellows to pick out for such a business.
"I shall see that the Swan is provided with new rigging and gear, and that there is a plentiful store of all things on board, to repair any damage you may suffer from storm or foe. My good friends here are willing that the purchasing of all the stores required shall be in my hands, and you shall yourself test the quality of all the provisions before the bargains are concluded, so as to see that everything is sweet and wholesome. My friends here will not appear in the affair at all, for if folks saw that four of us were concerned in the venture, they would think that it was something quite out of ordinary.
"All preparation will be made as quietly as possible, and it will be given out that the Swan is going to make a voyage to the Levant, and that she will carry a stronger battery of guns than usual to beat off any Moorish pirates she may meet by the way. As it is known that she had a sharp fight, coming homeward, it will seem only natural that we should add to her armament. I shall write up to my agent in London to purchase for me the articles required to trade with the natives, and bid him send them round here by sea, well packed in bales. If we were to purchase so many strange articles, here, it would give rise to talk; for people would wonder with whom we intended to trade such goods.
"Tomorrow morning you and I will make out a list of what you deem advisable for the purpose."
For another hour the party sat and talked; for, now that the other traders had fully determined to go into the venture, they were quite excited over it.
"Truly if I could but be spared from my business, here, I would gladly go with you myself," Master Streatham said. "I have always had a longing to see strange climes, and as no Englishman has yet set eyes on these countries you are about to visit, Friend Reuben, I would gladly be by your side, and take share in your perils and adventures."
"I doubt not your heart and courage, Master Jonas," Reuben replied, "and would warrant that you would behave doughtily, in case of fight with Spaniard or Indian; but I question whether you would support the hardships of the voyage, as cheerfully as you would the dangers. Although you may store the Swan with the best provisions that money can buy, a diet of naught but biscuit and salt meat palls after some weeks--to say nothing of some months--of it; and this all the more in a hot climate, where the appetite weakens, and one comes to pine for dainty cakes such as our Devonshire wives are famous for."
"Yes, I fear I never should support that," Master Streatham, who was a large corpulent man, mightily fond of the pleasures of the table, agreed with a sigh.
"Besides, Friend Jonas," Diggory Beggs put in, "Mistress Tabitha would have her voice in the matter; and however much your spirit would lead you to such an adventure, I doubt whether she would let you put foot on board."
"No, it is not for us to be running after adventure," Nicholas Turnbull said. "In the first place, we are sober citizens, and have our wives and families to think about, and our business and the affairs of the town; and in the next place, even could we leave all these, Master Reuben Hawkshaw would not thank us for our company. Every foot of space is of value on the ship; and men who take up space and consume food, and can neither set a sail nor work a cannon, are but useless encumbrances."
"You have spoken truly, Master Nicholas," Reuben said bluntly. "In the matter of a trip to London, or even as far as the Low Countries, we could accommodate your worshipful honors well enough; but on a journey like this, any man who cannot, if needs be, drink bilge water and eat shoe leather, is best at home. I took a voyage once--it is many years ago, now--to Amsterdam, and the owner, not my good cousin here, but another, took a fancy to go with me; and his wife must needs accompany him, and verily, before that voyage was over, I wished I was dead.
"I was no longer captain of the ship. My owner was my captain, and his wife was his. We were forever putting into port for fresh bread and meat, milk and eggs, for she could eat none other. If the wind got up but ever so little, we had to run into shelter and anchor until the sea was smooth. The manners of the sailors shocked her. She would scream at night when a rat ran across her, and would lose her appetite if a living creature, of which, as usual, the ship was full, fell from a beam onto her platter. I was tempted, more than once, to run the ship on to a rock and make an end of us all.
"No, no: a day's sail out from Plymouth, in a freshly launched ship, on a fine day, with a store of good victuals and a few flasks of good wine, is a right merry business; but farther than that I wish not to see a passenger, on board any ship which I command."
The others laughed.
"Well, Master Diggory, we must be going," Nicholas Turnbull said; "it is getting late. Tomorrow I will come over in the forenoon, as you suggest; and we will go through these lists more carefully, and talk over prices and see what bulk they will occupy, and discuss many other matters with the aid and advice of Master Hawkshaw. There is no occasion for undue haste; and yet, if the thing is to be done, the sooner it be done the better."
As the party went out, Reuben found his son waiting outside the door.
"Well, father?" he asked anxiously, when the three merchants had walked briskly off towards their homes.
"It is all settled, Roger. As soon as everything is prepared, the Swan will sail for the Spanish main."
Roger threw his cap high in the air, with a lusty shout that startled the better passers-by, hurrying towards their homes; for it was now long after dark, and although the town watch patrolled the streets regularly, prudent citizens did not care to be abroad after nightfall.
"You silly boy;" Reuben said; "you have lost your cap."
"Nay, I heard it fall somewhere here," Roger said, searching; "besides, a cap is a small matter, one way or other.
"Ah! Here it is, floating in a pool of mud; however, a bucket of water will set it all right, in the morning.
"O father! I feel wild with joy, only to think that all we have talked over together is going to be true, and that we are to be the first Englishmen who ever saw the beautiful islands they talk about, and the natives with their feathers and strange attire. And--" "And the Spaniards with their loaded guns, and their dungeons and gibbets," Reuben Hawkshaw put in.
"Not for us, father. The bottom of the sea maybe, but not a Spanish dungeon."
"I hope not, my lad. Still, no man can see the future. However, I am right glad that we are to try this adventure. It is a glorious one, and will bring us honor in the eyes of all Englishmen if we succeed, to say nothing of wealth.
"But mind that you let not your spirits run away with your tongue. No word of this must be spoken to a soul, nor must any mention be made of it in the hearing of my Cousin Mercy, or the girls. The four partners in the adventure have all taken a solemn promise to each other, that they will not breathe a word of it even to their wives, averring that women could never be trusted to keep a secret; though as far as I have seen of them, methinks a woman can keep a bridle on her tongue just as well as a man--and indeed, somewhat better, since they do not loosen them with cider, or wine, or strong waters. But I believe, myself, it was not so much that they doubted whether their wives would keep the secret, as whether they would approve of the enterprise; and that they made the contract together, in order that each might, afterwards, be able to assure his wife that, for his part, he would gladly have taken her into his confidence, but that he was obliged to fall in with the wishes of his partners.
"It is a strange thing, Roger, but methinks that, whereas most men behave valiantly enough when it comes to blows with an enemy, a great proportion are but cowards with their wives."
"But why should they be, father?"
"That is an easy question to ask, Roger, but a difficult one to answer. Maybe you will understand the matter better, some day, when you have taken a wife to yourself. In some matters there is no doubt that women's wits outrun those of men, and that they have a wonderful sharpness of tongue. Now a man, when things go wrong with him, speaks out loudly and roundly; he storms and he rages, but when it is over, there is an end of it. Now a woman is not like that. She seems to ponder the matter over in her heart, and to bring it out as it were piecemeal--throwing little darts at you when you don't expect it; saying little things to which, from their suddenness, you can find no reply; and pricking you furiously all over, until you are ready to roar out with pain and vexation. You see, Roger, a prick hurteth more than a great cut."
"I should not have thought that, father."
"That is because you have not thought the matter over, Roger. In that fight with the Moors many of the men were sorely cut and wounded, but you heard no cry from them; they only set their teeth the harder, and smote more furiously upon their foes; but there was no one of them all but, had he sat down suddenly on a small nail, would have roared out like a bull, and have sworn lustily for a good half hour. So it is in domestic matters: the man rages and storms when things go wrong; and his wife, if she be a woman of judgment, holds her peace until it is over, knowing well enough that he will be at her mercy, afterwards. Then she sets to work, like those gnats that came on board at Genoa, that they call mosquitoes, and startles him with shrill buzzings in his ears, and pricketh him in the tenderest spots she can find; drawing but the smallest speck of blood, but causing an itching that makes him ready to tear his flesh.
"Your mother, Roger, was one of the best of women. She was a good housewife, and an affectionate. I do not know that I ever saw her greatly ruffled in temper, but there were times when I would fly from my house, and not come up from my work on board, until it was time to go straight away to bed, so did she prick and sting me with her tongue; and that not shrilly or with anger, but with little things, let slip as it were unawares, and with an air of ignorance that they in any way applied to me.
"No, Roger, if you will take my advice you will make your ship your mistress. She will have her ways, but you will learn them, and will know just how much helm she requires, and how the sail should be trimmed; but with a woman no man attains to this knowledge, and if you take my advice, you will give them a wide berth.
"I know," he went on, in answer to Roger's merry laugh, "that this is a matter in which no man will trust to other experience than his own. Every man who takes a woman to wife thinks that he can manage her, and goes into the matter with a light heart, as if it were a mere pleasure excursion on which he is embarking; whereas, in truth, it is a voyage as full of dangers and perils as that upon which we are about to adventure.
"Now let us turn back to our lodging, for I have nearly gone on my face four times already, in these deep ruts and holes. I would that the councilors of this town could see the streets of Genoa, or Cadiz, or Amsterdam! They might then try to mend the ways of Plymouth, and make them somewhat less perilous to passengers, after dark."
Work began in earnest upon the following day. A number of shipwrights were set upon the hull of the Swan, which was to be thoroughly overhauled, caulked and pitched, within and without. The masts and rigging were to be carefully looked to, and every defect repaired. A new suit of sails was ordered, the old ones to be patched where the Moorish shot had torn them, so as to be of use as a second suit, did any misadventure happen to the others.
James Standing, the first mate, took charge of these matters; Reuben Hawkshaw assisting Diggory Beggs in all things relating to the stores. Greatly were the provision merchants of the town surprised at the quality of the provisions that Master Beggs ordered for the use of the Swan. Nothing but fine flour of the last year's grinding; freshly killed beef and pork, to be carefully salted down in barrels; and newly baked biscuits would satisfy Reuben Hawkshaw. They could scarce believe that such articles could be meant for use on shipboard; for, as a rule, the very cheapest and worst quality of everything was considered as amply good enough for the use of sailors.
Then, too, the cider and beer must be neither thin nor sour, but sweet and of good body. Surely, Master Beggs must have gone off his head, thus to furnish his ship! For never before had a vessel sailed out of Plymouth harbor, provided after this fashion. An ample store of ropes and cordage, and of all matters required for a ship's equipage, were also laid in. To all questions as to the surprising lavishness of cost, Diggory replied: "I would have the ship well found in all matters. It was but the other day that the Antelope returned from a voyage to the Levant. She had lost a third of her crew from scurvy, and of the rest but six were strong enough to pull at a rope when she came into port. Did not the women follow Master Skimpole, her owner, through the streets, and cry after him that he was the murderer of their husbands, by reason of the foul victual that he had provided for their use? No, no, it will cost more to start with, but it will be cheaper in the end; for a weak crew often means the losing of a ship, besides the loss of a good name. I have never carried economy to such lengths as did Master Skimpole; but I am resolved, in the future, that those who sail in my ships shall have good and wholesome fare. Then, if misfortune happens, no one will be able to point to me in the streets, and say that I fed my men worse than dogs, and thought only of my profits and nothing of the lives of those who served me."
Indeed Master Diggory, after a short time, quite forgot that all this provision for the health and comfort of the crew was but the outcome of Reuben Hawkshaw's insistence; and came to regard himself, with a feeling of pride, as a man possessed of greater benevolence than his fellow merchants.
A week after the refitting of the Swan was completed she was afloat, with a large proportion of her stores in her hold. A ship from London came round and took up her berth alongside of her, discharging large numbers of bales and cases into her; together with six cannon, in addition to those she before carried, and a large store of ammunition. This naturally gave rise to fresh talk in the town.
"They say that you are fitting the Swan out for a pirate, Master Beggs," one of the merchants said to him; "for twelve cannon are more than a peaceful trader can positively require."
"Yes, if she is to meet with none but peaceful people, neighbor; but if she meets with those who are not peaceful, at all, she needs just as much defense as if she were a ship of war. Master Hawkshaw had much ado to beat off the Moorish pirates who attacked him on his last voyage; and as the present one will be longer, and more dangerous, he has put stress upon me to add much to her armament. She will have valuable cargo on her return voyage, and he has strongly urged upon me to provide such means of defense as may ensure her being able to beat off any who meddle with her; besides, as far as I can read the course of politics, it seems to me that our alliance with Spain is well nigh at an end, and before the Swan is on her return we may be at war with her. This in itself is good reason why I should give my master the means of defending himself stoutly.
"The money spent on the guns is not wasted. They will be none the worse for keeping; and should the Swan, on her next voyage, go into a safer line of trade, I can sell them for as much as they now cost me."
In the meantime, Reuben Hawkshaw had been carefully and quietly picking a crew. He was going to take with him fully twice as many as had, before, sufficed to navigate the Swan. Of the forty men who had sailed with him he had lost nine, and five others had not sufficiently recovered from their wounds to sail with him again. Of the remainder he engaged twenty, all of whom were stout and willing fellows who would, he knew, sail with him wherever he bid them. The remaining six, being given to grumbling, he would have none of, good sailors though they were.
"Half-a-dozen grumblers are enough to spoil a whole crew," he said.
There were, therefore, some sixty new hands to engage. Towards these he found eighteen who had sailed with him on previous voyages, and were glad enough to rejoin him; for he had the name of being a good captain, considerate to his men; one who would be obeyed, but who did not harass his crew, and did all he could, in reason, to make them comfortable.
The others were picked up carefully, one by one. For this purpose he took some of his best men aside, and confided to them, privately, that the present voyage was to be out of the ordinary, and that he needed not only stout fellows but willing and cheerful ones: men who would take hardships without grumbling, and who, with a prospect of good reward in addition to their pay, would go without question where they were told, and do as they were ordered--were it to singe the beard of the Grand Turk, himself, in his own palace. He charged them, therefore, to find for him men of this kind, among their relations, or men who had sailed with him.
"I would rather," he said, "have landsmen, providing they are strong and stout hearted, than sailors, however skillful, who are given to grumbling and disaffection. We shall have plenty of good sailors on board, and the others will soon learn their business; therefore, choose you not for seamanship, but rather for willingness and good temper. And broach not the subject to any unless you feel assured, beforehand, that they will be willing to join; for I want not the matter talked about. Therefore those who join are to keep the matter private, and are not to come on board until the night before we get up our anchors. We are taking a much stronger crew than usual, for we have many guns that need working, if it comes to fighting."
As these instructions were given separately, none of the twelve men he spoke to knew that the others had received similar instructions; and that instead of forty men, as usual, the Swan was to carry nearly ninety.
As to the officers, Reuben Hawkshaw needed none others than those who had before sailed with him. The two mates had each been with him for upwards of ten years, and had learned their business under his eye; and he intended, although he had not as yet told him so, to rate Roger as third mate. His boatswain would go in the same capacity as before; and he shipped, as gunner, one who had served for some years in a king's ship in that rank, and was well acquainted with the working of ordnance.
Mistress Mercy had, of course, heard from her gossips of the talk that was going on, concerning the unusual preparations that were being made, by her husband, for the forthcoming voyage of the Swan; and the trader was often put to his wits' end by her questions on the subject. His professions of benevolence towards the crew, and his explanations of his reasons for her powerful armament had sufficed for others, but they by no means satisfied her.
"Do you think, Diggory Beggs," she asked, indignantly, "that after all these years I do not know you as well as I do the contents of my linen chest? I have never before known you open your purse strings one inch wider than was necessary. Have I not always had to ask, until I am verily ashamed, before I can get a new gown for myself, or a decent cloak for the girls? You have ever been hard fisted with your money, and never disposed to spend a groat, save on good occasion. There is not the wife of a trader of your standing in Plymouth but makes a braver show than I do, when we walk on the hoe on holidays or feast days.
"There is something at the bottom of all this I don't understand; but mark you, Diggory, I am not to be kept in the dark. As your wife, I have a right to know why you are throwing about good and lawful money. I toil and slave to keep your house decent and respectable, at small cost; but I shall do so no longer. If you can afford to throw money into the gutter in one way, you can in another; and people will cry shame on you, when, as they say, you are pampering up your sailors, in such manner as will cause discontent among all others in the port, while your wife and daughters are walking about in homespun!"
Mistress Mercy did not succeed in extracting the information she desired from her husband, who was, however, forced to fall back upon the defense that he had his reasons, but that he was pledged to say nothing concerning them.
"Pledged!" she replied, scornfully. "And to whom are you pledged, I should like to know? I thought you were pledged to me, and that you were bound to cherish and comfort me; which means, of course, that you were to have no secrets from me, and to tell me all that I desire to know."
But though Diggory kept the secret, albeit with much trouble; and with many misgivings as to what would happen in the future, when his wife came to learn of the important venture he had undertaken, without consulting her; she nevertheless succeeded so far that, in order to pacify her, he was obliged to allow her a free hand in choosing, from his magazines, such pieces of cloth and silk for herself and the girls as she had a fancy to. This permission she did not abuse as to quality, for she knew well enough what was becoming, in the way of dress, for the wife of a merchant; and that it was not seemly, for such a one, to attire herself in apparel suited for the wives of nobles, and ladies of the Court. But Diggory groaned in spirit, although he prudently said nothing, at seeing that she took advantage of the present position to carry off a store which would amply suffice, for at least two or three years' wearing, for herself and the girls.
"You have done me a parlous ill turn, Cousin Reuben," he said sadly to his cousin, "by bidding me hide this matter from my wife. A few more such secrets, and I should be a ruined man. Never before have I known her seized with a desire for such prodigality of vesture. I have looked upon her, all these years, as a sober and discreet woman, well content to wear what was quiet and becoming to her station; but now--truly my heart melted when I saw how she fingered the goods, and desired John, my assistant, to cut off such lengths as she desired from some of my goodliest cloths."
"Tut, tut, cousin; you exaggerate things greatly. It is no wonder that Mistress Mercy, seeing that you are flourishing greatly in trade, and able to spend your money freely, should deem it but fitting that she, as your wife, should make a braver show than heretofore. Besides, the girls are growing up, and need to be a little bright and gay. Why, man, there are many London citizens, who could not count their broad pieces with you, whose wives spend many times as much, every year, on their attire as Mistress Mercy has cost you now."
"Well, well, Reuben, there may be something in what you say; but no more secrets, or there is no saying what wild extravagance she might take in her head, next time. She might quarrel with the house and insist upon a new one, furnished from top to bottom; or set her heart on a coach, with running footmen. No, no more secrets, or I shall be having her so set herself up that I shall be no more master of my own house."
Roger was plied with many questions by his cousins, who tried alternately coaxing, and pouting, to learn from him why it was that, as all told them, preparations were being made for the voyage of the Swan such as were unknown, before, at Plymouth. All he could reply was that the ship was only being victualed as all ships ought to be whose owners cared, as they should do, for the comfort and health of their crews. More than that he could not say. He would not deny that he had certain ideas of his own as to the voyage; but if Cousin Diggory and his father thought it well to make no talk about the matter, it was not for him to say what were his thoughts about it.
"But we would tell nobody," Dorothy urged. "Don't you think we could keep a secret, as well as you can?"
"That is just it, Cousin Dorothy! Don't you see, if I were to tell you, it would be a proof that I could not keep a secret? And then, if you told it, I could not blame you for blabbing. I don't say there is any secret; but if there is, I must keep it."
"I know that you are going into danger, Reuben; else you would not have all those great guns they say there are, on board."
"The great guns will keep us out of danger, you see. The more guns, the less danger."
"Come away, Agnes," Dorothy said, with an assumption of stateliness. "Cousin Roger is altogether too smart for us. Let him keep his secrets, if he will; and let us go and help mother with her sewing."
And so, for the last two or three days before the Swan sailed, there was a coolness between Roger and the girls, as well as between Diggory Beggs and his wife.
At last the day came when everything was complete, the water casks filled, and the last packet and bale stored away in the hold; and even Reuben Hawkshaw admitted that there was nothing else that he could think of, requisite either for the safety or navigation of the ship, or the provisioning or health of the crew.
The order was passed round for all the old hands to be aboard before sunset, that evening, together with those who had been openly engaged to fill up the vacancies. As for the rest, the twelve recruiters each received private orders. Three of them were to bring down the men they had engaged to the wharf, abreast of the Swan, at eight o'clock; and to go off in the boat which would be awaiting them there, under charge of Master Standing. Three others were to come half an hour later. The other six were to bring down their men at daybreak--so that all would get on board unnoticed.
The last meal at Master Diggory's was but a dull one. The subject of the Swan and her voyage had, by common consent, been dropped altogether for the last day or two; and it was not until supper was over that Mistress Mercy, and the girls, knew that the hour of sailing was at hand. Then Reuben spoke up: "We go on board tonight, Cousin Mercy, and shall get up our anchor and loose our sails the first thing in the morning. I know that you have been somewhat aggrieved, at not learning more about our intentions; but it was not Cousin Diggory's fault that you have not been told."
"I do not seek to pry into matters which my husband thinks fit to conceal from me," she said, coldly.
"Nevertheless, cousin, you are hurt; and I cannot blame you, seeing that it is natural that a woman should like to know what is passing around her. But I wish, before I go, that you should see that Diggory is not to blame in this matter. There is no harm in my telling you, now, that he stands not alone in this venture, but that others have joined with him. Now he himself, knowing you to be a circumspect woman, who could be trusted to keep to yourself anything that you might learn, would willingly have taken you into our councils; but all women are not so discreet, and matters which it is very important should be kept secret might have leaked out, had it not been proposed that all concerned in the matter should bind themselves solemnly to each other, to say no words about it, even to their wives; and thus, you see, Diggory's lips have been sealed, and that not by any mistrust of you.
"It may be some time before it will be prudent for the truth about this voyage to be known, but in good time those concerned may think fit to relieve each other of this agreement they have entered upon, and to let their wives, and others who may be depended upon, into the secret. I wanted to tell you this before we sailed, for I should not like to go away feeling that you cherished aught of malice against me; for I have seen for some time that you have held me, as well as your husband, to blame. We are going on a long voyage, Cousin Mercy, and one from which it may well be that none of us will ever return to this good town of Plymouth. I am somewhat breaking my promise in saying this, and I rely upon you, and the girls, repeating it to no one. It is a long and venturous journey, and one not without much peril; but if it succeeds, it will bring much honor, as well as wealth, to all concerned.
"And now, Cousin Mercy, as I have told you so much as that, I trust that we may part as we have always parted, in friendly and kindly fashion. You and your husband have been good friends to me and my boy, and have gone in that matter far beyond the ordinary bounds of kinship; and I should not like to start upon this voyage knowing that there was a cloud between us."
Mistress Mercy rose from her seat, walked round to Reuben Hawkshaw, and kissed him.
"Forgive me, Cousin Reuben," she said, "for my cross looks and shrewish ways. I see that I have acted altogether wrongly in the matter, and that neither you nor Diggory are to blame. I knew not that others were concerned, and thought that a mystery was being made because it was considered that, did I know it, I should run out and blab it in the streets of Plymouth. Now I know how it is, I am well content as to that; but not so, at the thought of this unknown peril into which you are about to run, and I wonder that Diggory should adventure your life, and that of Roger, upon such an expedition."
"It is my own proposal, Cousin Mercy, and Diggory has but yielded to my wishes. Roger is as hot for the adventure as I am, and we are both content to run what risks we may encounter, for the honor which we shall gain if we return safely home.
"And now, Roger, let us be going. Leave takings are sad things, and the shorter they are made, the better."
While these words had been said the girls, who sat on either side of Roger, were silently making their peace with him, by furtive squeezes of his hands below the table; and they burst into tears, as Roger and his father rose.
"Goodbye, Agnes," Roger said.
"Goodbye, Dorothy," and as he kissed her he whispered, "if I return, I will bring you the prettiest trinkets ever seen in Plymouth."
"Bring back yourself, Roger, and I shall be more than content," she replied.
In another minute they were gone, Diggory Beggs taking his hat and starting with them; telling his wife that he should not return until morning, as he should go on board the Swan with them, and remain until she sailed.
"You will not go before daybreak, Cousin Reuben?" Mistress Mercy asked.
"No; it will more likely be an hour after sunrise before we weigh anchor."
"Then I and the girls will be down on the wharf, to see the last of you and wave our kerchiefs, and wish you a pleasant voyage and a safe return."
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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3
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: The Voyage.
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Great was the surprise of the original crew of the Swan, when boat load after boat load of fresh hands arrived. They themselves had been quietly told that the voyage was likely to be one of unusual length, and that none save those willing and ready to stay away, as long as might be required, were to sail in the Swan on her present venture. There was, therefore, a general idea current among them that Master Hawkshaw had some adventure quite out of the ordinary in his mind; and the news that some heavy guns had arrived from London for her, had confirmed their opinion as to the voyage.
"Let us have no loud talk, tonight," Reuben Hawkshaw ordered. "When we get our sails spread tomorrow, and are well out of port, you can talk to your hearts' content; but the night is still, and I want not that attention of any on shore should be called to the ship. There has been more foolish talk than enough about her already; so turn in to rest, lads, without ado. The boatswain will serve you each out a pottle of cider, such as you never drank on board ship before, I warrant me, and which is a sample of what you will have, all the voyage. When you have tossed that off, let each lie down as he can find space. We will divide into watches, and settle as to each man's place, tomorrow.
"Pengarvan, set four hands aside to go on shore, with the boat, an hour before daybreak. Tell them off to sleep where you can lay hands upon them, easily. Keep the boat alongside, and make off to the wharf as noiselessly as you can; but I shall be on deck, then, and will give you further orders."
The second mate only replied, "Ay, ay, Captain Hawkshaw," for he was a man of but few words.
Reuben Hawkshaw was not fond of Cornishmen, but he made an exception in the case of Pengarvan--indeed, although their borders joined, there was little liking among Cornish and Devon men for each other.
"They are black, ill-conditioned dogs," Reuben Hawkshaw would say; "good sailors, I own; none better; but glum and surly in their ways, and with nothing joyous in their natures. It seems to me that working in the darkness--in those holes of theirs, underground--has infected the spirits of the whole county; as it might well do, seeing that, as everyone knows, there are little people who guard the treasures of the mines; and who, if they cannot do bodily hurt to those who delve for metals, can yet infect their spirits with a black melancholy, and do them other grievous harm.
"So when Pengarvan came to me as a boy, on the quay here, and asked me to take him with me to sea, I did not much like doing so; for I saw at once, by his speech, that he was Cornish; but I did not like to turn him away, for he said that he was willing, and accustomed to the sea. So I gave him a trial, and he has turned out a first-rate sailor. He is chary of speech, and not given to jest or laughter; but he is always quick, and willing to obey orders; taking whatever comes in good part, and bearing himself just the same, in storm, as in sunshine.
"I know naught of his history. The Swan has been his home since he first came on board, twelve years ago. As long as she is afloat, he never leaves her. When she is laid down for repairs, he takes the nearest lodging on hand, and abides there till she is afloat again. I believe that he comes from Fowey, and guess that he got into some trouble or other, and had to run for it. But that's nothing to me. I want no better man; and know that, whatever comes, I can rely upon Pengarvan to stand by me, and the ship, to the last."
If the men were astonished at the thirty new hands who came on board on the previous evening, they were still more astonished when as many more embarked in the morning. The newcomers were ordered to keep in the forecastle, and in the quarters under it, until the Swan was well away from land.
"There will be a good many eyes turned on the ship, as soon as we are seen to be shaking out our canvas," Reuben said; "and there is no need to set their tongues wagging, by showing more men on deck than we usually carry."
The captain and Diggory Beggs talked late on into the night. They went over all the ground again; and Reuben brought out the map of the islands, and showed where he intended to touch.
"I think not to do much trading there," he said. "There is gold in Hispaniola and Cuba; but the captain I got the chart from said there was no very great store there, and that the natives had but little of it when the Spaniards first arrived; seeing that it took trouble and labor to obtain, and they are by nature altogether averse to hard work, and moreover place but little value on the gold. But there were rumors among them that, farther west, there was a land where gold was in great plenty; and where there was a powerful people, dressed in gay attire, and wearing great bracelets and necklaces of gold.
"So far, the Spaniards have not found this land; though they have sailed down the coast a long way to the south, and northward as far as the point that Master Cabot reached, when he sailed down from Newfoundland; but due west they have never sailed far, and have found the sea ever stretching away in front of them; so that it is clear that either the great mainland is split in two at this point, or there is a vast bay. This I shall try to discover, and if we find these people of whom the Indians speak, we may well return loaded down with gold.
"My advice to you, Cousin Diggory, is that you and your partners should continue to keep silent as to this voyage of ours. If we come not back, and after a time there is a talk here that we have gone to the Indies, the news may be carried to London; and you may be questioned, and may be blamed mightily for undertaking such an adventure, without the king's permission; and all sorts of harm may fall upon you. Success would, in my mind, altogether excuse you; and you will be able to offer so great a present to the king that he will be mighty contented. But if you fail, it will be otherwise. Therefore my advice is, till the Swan is anchored in the port say nothing about her. It were best, from the moment we sail, to write off all that has been spent upon her as money lost, just the same as if you knew for certain that she had gone down as soon as she was out of sight of land.
"Folks will ask you what has become of her, and you will truly say that you have had no news; and when months pass on, and she comes not, you will shake your head, and say that you begin to fear that evil has befallen her. She may have gone down in a storm, or been cast on some rocky coast and all perished, or been captured by pirates.
"If the friends of the sailors make a stir, and go to the magistrates, you have but to show the copy of the letter of instructions which we drew up the other day, laying it down that I was to make for the African Straits, and to put into no Portuguese or Spanish port by the way; that I was then to shape my course for the island of Malta, and to take in fresh stores of food and water there; then that I was to pass round the southernmost point of Greece, and sail upwards to Constantinople, and there to dispose of such portion of my cargo as I could sell at good profit, buying goods suited for our market with the monies I received; and if my hold was full I was then to return straight to England; but if I had still some of my cargo unsold, I could trade as best seemed to me among the Eastern Islands, and with the ports of Asia.
"There would be your instructions to show, and as it is notorious to all that you provisioned the ship in the best manner possible, and laid in greater stores than ordinary of all things necessary for the voyage, none can hold you to blame, in any way, if the chances of the seas have proved too masterful for us, and the Swan returns no more.
"Should we carry out our enterprise to the fullest, and gain great store of gold, I shall, if it is possible, come not directly home, but to some port--maybe in Ireland, maybe in the Low Countries--whence we can send word to you. Upon hearing of our coming there, I should advise you and your fellow adventurers to journey straight to London, to gain audience with one of the ministers, and tell him you have a matter of great importance to communicate to the king himself; and that you should then lay before his majesty an account of what you have done, and pray him to pardon your boldness, which was due to your desire for the honor of the country as much as to wish for profit, and beg him to accept such share of the gold as you may think fit. I shall, of course, when I write let you know about what weight of the metal I have on board. In that way, when the ship comes into port all will be smooth sailing for you; whereas if I come unannounced, there is no saying what share of your profits his majesty may think fit to take."
"I think the plan is a very good one, indeed, Reuben; and I will follow it to the letter. When think you may I begin to expect to hear news of you?"
"It is difficult to say, seeing that we know neither the distance we may have to sail, nor the difficulties we may have to meet with, nor the winds and currents of those regions. I should say fifteen months at the earliest; and if double that time passes, without your hearing aught, then I should say you may give up all hope of ever seeing us again."
"I am disposed even now, Reuben, to regret that I ever embarked in this venture--not, as you surely know, from any fear of losing the money that I have put into it, but from the risk that will be run by you and the lad Roger, who are both very dear to me."
"Whatever comes, you must not blame yourself in that matter, Diggory. You have only yielded to my solicitations, and if we go to our death it is our choosing, and none of thine."
"Should the Swan come back without you, Reuben--as may possibly be, for if there be any danger you are sure to expose yourself in the front of it--Roger shall be as a son to me; and shall either in time have a ship to command, and a share in her, as thou hast; and he shall come in our business, when he has had enough of adventure at sea, and is willing to settle down on land."
Reuben wrung his cousin's hand silently, and then said: "Let us take one more glass of strong water, Diggory, and then get a few hours' sleep before morning. It is past midnight now, and I must be up by four; for at that hour the boat must go off for the first batch of our new hands."
Day broke, just as the last batch of men were brought on board. As soon as these had gone below the whistle was sounded, the old crew came up on deck, and the preparations for making sail commenced. The anchor was hove short, the lashings of the sails were loosened, the flags run up to the mast heads, the last casks and bales lowered into the hold, the hatches put on, and the decks washed down.
Before these preparations were all complete, a little group was seen, standing at the end of the wharf.
"There is your good wife, Diggory, and the girls. She has kept her word to be up, betimes, to see the last of us."
At last all was ready, and Diggory shook hands with Reuben, and turned to Roger, when the captain said: "The lad can go in charge of the boat that takes you ashore, Diggory, and just say another word of parting to them there."
In five minutes, Roger stood on the wharf.
"I cannot wait, Cousin Mercy," he said, "for all is ready for hoisting the anchor; but my father said I might just come ashore, for one more goodbye."
"May God protect you, Roger," Mistress Mercy said, as she folded him in a motherly embrace. "We shall all pray for you, daily and nightly, until you return. Goodbye, Roger! Don't imperil your life needlessly, but be prudent and careful."
"For your sake, Dorothy," he whispered, as he kissed her.
"Yes, for my sake, Roger," she said softly.
Agnes hung round his neck, crying loudly, and her mother had to unclasp the child's fingers.
"God bless you all," said Roger hoarsely, and then ran down the steps, and leaped into the stern of the boat.
When he gained the deck of the Swan, the boat was hoisted in, and the men began to heave round the windlass. As soon as the anchor was up, the sails were sheeted home; and the Swan, yielding to the light breeze off the land, began to make her way through the water. Roger, from the poop, waved his cap in reply to the signals of farewell from shore; and then, running down into the waist, busied himself with the work of the ship, until they were too far away from the land for the figures there to be any longer visible.
The rest of the crew now came on deck, and all were mustered in watches. Reuben Hawkshaw, standing on the edge of the poop, then said a few words to them.
"Men," he said, "I dare say there is some wonderment among you, in finding yourselves so strong a crew, and at seeing the Swan so well provided with guns, and with all other necessaries. You will learn, in good time, all about it; but at present it is best, for many reasons, that you should know nothing about the matter. We may be overhauled by a king's ship; we may meet with foul weather, and have to put back into port; and a loose tongue might do us grievous damage. It is enough for you to know that where the ship is going you are going; that she is stored with provisions of such quality as was never put on board a trader before; that everything will be done for your comfort. As to myself, I am content to know that I have a crew of eighty-five stout Devonshire lads under me, and that we can give an account of ourselves, whosoever may meet us. Those who have sailed with me before know that I do my best for my men, that there will be no harsh words or violence on board this ship, save they are well merited. Discipline, order, and obedience I will have, and that strictly. Above all, I will have no grumbling. A grumbling crew is a useless crew, and a sick crew; while a cheerful crew can meet, with confidence, whatever befalls them; but I think not that I have any grumblers on board, since every man has been carefully chosen. A merry heart goes all the way, as the saying has it, and I want this crew to be a happy one.
"So far as the order of the ship permits it, you shall have every indulgence. At first you will find yourselves pressed for space, but you will soon eat and drink room for yourselves. The stores to be first used are all down in the fore hold, and I reckon that, in three weeks or a month, that will be cleared; and there will then be room for all to lie in shelter, when we are in harbor; and the present accommodation is sufficient for the watch below, providing all sleep quietly, and have good conscience.
"And now, to work. While you get everything tidy and in good shipshape, the cooks will get to work at the coppers; and I can promise you a good breakfast, washed down by sound cider, such as you had last night."
The men gave a cheer, and were soon at work, under the direction of their officers. It mattered little to them where they were going, or what was before them. They had guessed that it was no ordinary voyage they were going to undertake; but the thought that, wherever it was, they were to be well kept and well cared for, satisfied them mightily; and if fighting were to come into their way, so much the better. With such a crew, they could well take their part against any enemy they were likely to meet.
In the poop of the Swan there was a small saloon, extending across the stern, and two cabins on either side of the passage leading to it. These were occupied by the captain, the two mates, and Roger; and they took their meals together in the saloon. In a cabin underneath this, the three petty officers and twenty of the sailors lived together, the main body of the crew occupying the raised forecastle and the cabin underneath it. The galley was forward, built up against the forecastle, and thus sheltered from heavy seas which might sweep the waist of the vessel. Four small cannon were mounted on the poop, two on the forecastle, the six larger guns were in the waist--three on either side.
The breeze freshened as the Swan drew out from under the shelter of the land, and by midday the shore had faded from the sight. The crew had by this time settled down in their places, and sat in groups on deck, some overhauling the contents of their sea bags, looking over their clothes, and setting to, with needle and thread, to make such repairs as were needed. Some of the new hands were leaning over the side, wishing heartily that they were on shore again. Those who had made voyages were talking to their companions about the various ports at which they might touch, and the sights they would behold.
All, save those suffering from the effects of the sea, were in high good temper. As much fresh beef as was like to keep good till eaten had been brought on board. The wind set in, the next morning, freshly from the northeast; and with all sail set, the Swan ran gaily before it.
"Would that this wind would blow, without a break, for another month," Reuben Hawkshaw said, as he sat at dinner with the two mates and Roger.
Standing and Pengarvan looked up quickly; but the latter, without a question, again betook himself to feeding. Standing, however, laid down his jackknife in astonishment.
"A month, Captain Hawkshaw? I should have thought four or five days of this would give us ample westing, and that after that a westerly breeze, somewhat from the north, would suit us best."
"Ay, ay, you would think so, Standing; but then you see, you know not to within a good many points where our journey tendeth. Wait till I have finished my dinner, for man cannot talk and eat together, with comfort. Then, when my boy has removed the trenchers, I will tell you, over an extra mug of cider, what all this is about."
The meal lasted for some time longer, for Reuben Hawkshaw was a good trencherman, and one not given to hurrying himself, unless there was need; and neither of the other men were far behind their chief, in the matter of the stowage of victuals. But at last the meal was done, and the trenchers were carried off. The earthenware mugs were again filled with cider, and then Reuben Hawkshaw--sitting at one end of the table, with Roger facing him, and the mates one on either hand--threw himself back in his settle, which he used in right of captaincy, while the others contented themselves with stools, and began.
"I had not thought, comrades, to broach this matter until we were down in the latitude of the African Straits; but seeing that the wind has taken us in charge, I see no reason for longer keeping silent. You, who have both sailed with me for years, must have known right well that this was no ordinary voyage--the number of men I have taken on board, the care I have had as to the stores, and the great number of water casks, must have told you that. You have asked no questions, and I did not expect that you would."
"Why should we?" James Standing growled. "It mattered naught to us where we went, as we knew we should hear, in good time."
Pengarvan said nothing, but he nodded, to show that he agreed with the first mate.
"Well, men, our intent is this: I see not why the Spaniards should have all the good things to themselves, and I purpose to go a-trading with the natives, down in these new islands of theirs."
An exclamation of surprise broke from James Standing, but Pengarvan only nodded again.
"But this is not all," Reuben went on. "So far, the Spaniards have not gained much store of gold from these islands; but I have learned that, among the natives, there is talk of a rich nation lying somewhere farther to the west, where gold and riches of all sorts abound. So far the Spaniards have not found it, having their hands pretty well full. They have sailed down the land to the south and, as you know, Master Cabot sailed from the north, down almost to the latitude of these islands; but due west no man has sailed yet, or if he has, has never returned to tell of it."
"Well, Captain Reuben," James Standing said, "as I said before, it makes no difference to me where we go. If the Spaniards catch us there, they will cut our throats to a surety, if they can; but if you are ready to take your chance of that, I have nothing against it. I feel as if I am taken aback a bit, just now, as it comes new to me--my own fancy being that you intended to trade with the Turkish ports and islands, and had taken a strong crew on board to beat off any pirates that they might meet."
"And you, Pengarvan?"
"It is as I expected, Captain. I thought that you did not bring the Spaniard on board at Cadiz, and sit plying him with wine, and talking to him by the hour, for nothing. So when I saw what was being done on board the Swan, it came to me that you intended to try a venture in the Spanish main."
"Here is a map which I got from the Spaniard," Reuben said, laying it out upon the table. "Here, you see, all the great islands are marked in their places, with their ports and the Spanish settlements. There are besides these, the Spaniard said, numbers of small ones not marked on the chart. In these large islands, Cuba and Hispaniola, the Spaniards have made themselves masters of the people, and reduced them to slavery; and there would be no touching at these with either safety or profit. The small ones have been only occasionally visited, and with these we may do trade.
"Here is the line of the mainland, to the south of the islands. You see it runs along as far as the easternmost of them, and then turns away to the south; while from the north the mainland comes down well nigh to Cuba. One reason, the Spaniard said, why they have not sailed west to find out this land of gold, is that there is a great current, which runs in between the islands and the southern land, and sweeps out again with great force between the Bahamas and this northern land; and that they fear being swept away by it, and getting driven into whirlpools; and moreover they say that there are great storms to be encountered, in the waters to the west.
"Now the fact that there is a current into, and another current out of, this western sea, seems to show that there is no exit to the west; and that the water that comes in at the south finds itself in a great bay, and so is forced to pass out to the north. How great this bay may be I know not, but surely it cannot be too great to search. At any rate it is clear to me that, somewhere to the west, these two great lands that we see to the north and south join. Now that men who have, with much toil and risk, made a discovery of a new land should claim it, for their king, seems to me fair and right; but not that they should claim sole traffic, with lands of whose very existence they know nothing; and therefore, although it is true that the pope has given these western islands to Spain, I see not how he can give to them land not, as yet, discovered.
"If there is, as the natives in the islands say, a land lying somewhere to the west, where gold is abundant, I see no reason why, if we are first there, we should not gather great stores. The bales and boxes, that were brought round from London, contain a great quantity of all the things that are, as the Spaniard told me, most prized by the natives. Glass beads of all sorts and kinds, vessels of brass, iron hatchets and arrowheads, hawk bells, mirrors, and trinkets. The venture is, I admit, a perilous one; but if we succeed, every man on board will have a share in the profit."
Reuben then explained the arrangements he had made, with the owners, for the division of such treasure as they might bring home.
"That is a fair proposal," the first mate said; "and I doubt not that all on board will gladly fall in with it. If we succeed, we shall set every tongue in England wagging; and there will be plenty of others, I warrant, who will be ready to follow our example."
"I had intended," Reuben went on, "to sail as far as the straits; then to head for the island of Madeira and, when within sight of it, to head away west-sou'-west. But if we carry this wind with us, we will make straight for the islands, and thereby shall escape the risk of being seen by vessels coming and going, as they all follow a track south of Madeira. We can make a good fight with any Spaniard that falls foul of us, and are as likely to take him as he is to capture us; but I would fain keep clear of them, if I can, since we go to trade and not to fight.
"Now I think you had best give a hint of the matter in hand to our old crew, all of whom we can depend upon; as indeed, I hope we can upon all, though as yet their mettle has not been tried. Take them aside singly, and open the matter to them. In a few days I shall tell the rest; but the matter will go more fairly, and easily, if we have a proportion of them ready to throw up their caps, and shout."
"Aye, aye, Captain Reuben. One bellwether will carry a whole flock after it, but I fear not that any will want to hold back. It is just the adventure that will suit a brave man's spirit--plenty to see, plenty to do, the chance of a fight, and the chance of a fortune. I should like to know what one could want, better than that. Besides, all are in high feather at the quality of the food, which they say the like of was never known on shipboard before; and that goes a long way. It is the fasting man who kicks. The full one is content, however matters go."
Pengarvan had not again opened his lips. He nodded occasionally, and that was all his captain expected of him; but the fact that he had guessed the destination of the ship, added to the esteem which Reuben Hawkshaw had for his second mate.
Three days later Reuben Hawkshaw called the crew together, and informed them of their destination. He possessed the rough eloquence best suited for the class he was addressing, and carried his hearers with him. He spoke as if the idea, that any of them could shrink from undertaking such an adventure, had not entered his mind; but assumed that they were the most fortunate of men, in having such a chance offered to them.
"You do not yet know," he said, "how great a piece of good fortune has befallen you, by being chosen to sail with me on this voyage. Had the news been as much as whispered, in Plymouth, I could have gathered a thousand volunteers in an hour. You all know how careful have been the preparations for the voyage, how strongly we are manned, how well we are armed, what stores of excellent provisions and what casks of good cider and ale are in the hold.
"Now I am going to tell you what all this is for. We are going, lads, to get gold; and if we succeed, as I doubt not we shall, each man on his return will, in addition to his wages, have a share in the spoil--such a share as will, I hope, make him comfortable for life."
A loud cheer broke from the men, as they pressed forward eagerly to listen.
"I have learned, lads," he said, "from a Spaniard who has been out there, of a land abounding with gold, lying to the west of the Spanish Islands. As yet, none of them have ventured thither; and I mean that we shall be the first to reap the harvest. Why should these Spaniards keep every good thing to themselves? We are as good sailors as they are, and better; as good men, and better. Therefore, I say, we will have a share of the prizes.
"We shall touch on our way at some of the islands, for wood and water and fruit and vegetables. There are plenty of them where we can find these, without meeting with a Spaniard. If we do meet with one, and he tries to interfere with us, so much the worse for him.
"Then, when we have taken in what we want, we will sail west; and if we find this land, as I doubt not we shall, we will return home with such treasures as were never brought before into an English port.
"You must make up your minds, lads, that it is not to be all plain sailing, and that we may have hardships and trials to meet with; but no true sailor shrinks from these. It is a grand adventure, lads--an adventure that nobles and princes would be glad to share in. There is honor and glory in it, as well as booty. We shall be the first Englishmen who ever sailed those seas, or dared to dispute the right of the Spaniards to keep all the treasures of the west in their hands; and in time to come your children's children will be proud to say, 'My grandsire was one of those who sailed in the Swan.'"
When the captain ceased speaking, there was a shout of enthusiasm from his hearers; not one of whom but considered himself to be one of the most fortunate of men, in being chosen as one of the crew of the Swan. This was an adventure, indeed. It was no mere trading voyage, but a grand expedition. There were new lands to be seen, there was the satisfaction of outwitting the Spaniards, there were glory and honor and gold to be obtained.
As for hardships and danger, they recked little of them. These always formed part of their lot; and with so well found a ship, and so good a crew, they felt confident of being able to face anything that might befall them.
They speedily broke up into excited groups, eagerly discussing the news they had heard. The new hands plied the older ones with questions, as to the general strength of the Spanish ships, the number of men they carried, and their armament. The guns were examined with fresh attention and admiration, and men looked along the sights as if already, in fancy, engaging in an encounter with the Dons. A horn of strong ale was served out to each, by the captain's orders, to celebrate the occasion; and the men drank success to the enterprise, shaking each other by the hand, and each vowing to do his share, bravely.
The wind continued favorable until they had passed Madeira, which was seen like a cloud on the port side. Three days later the breeze dropped, and there was a stark calm, in which the Swan lay motionless on the sea for well nigh a fortnight. The captain, knowing well that idleness is, of all things, the most harmful to a crew, set them to work to get up the cases of arms, and polish their swords and pikes until they shone. Then the crew were exercised with boarding pike and cutlass. Singlesticks and staffs, which the captain had provided for such an occasion, were brought up; and men were matched against each other with these--small prizes being given to those who showed themselves the most proficient.
Squads were told off to the great guns, and instructed how these should best be worked by the gunner, so that each man should do his share without hurry or confusion. He would fain have practiced them at a mark, but this the captain would not have as, with the air so still, the guns would be heard at a long distance, and might even bring up some Spanish or Portuguese vessel, to inquire into the cause of the firing--for they were now far below the line which the ships of other nations were forbidden to cross. Nor was there great need for practice, for to each gun was appointed, as captain, one of the old hands accustomed to the work, who could be trusted to send the ball straight when the time should come.
With these and other exercises, and with such sports as the sailors could devise, the time of the calm was got through well enough. They had now been over a month at sea; but, thanks to the honest food and sound cider, the men's health in no way suffered, and all were as well and hearty as upon the day when they set sail.
When the wind came, it came with sudden fury; but Reuben Hawkshaw had heard of the sudden gales that ships sailing west had to encounter, and took precautions as soon as it began to rise--furling up all the great sails; passing lifelines along the sides, to which the men could cling, if the waves washed boisterously over her; and clearing the decks and closing up all hatchways and openings. So, though for a week she tossed and labored in the gale, she was none the worse when it ceased; and indeed, the seas she encountered were by no means so heavy as those with which she had battled, on her voyage home from Spain.
While the gale lasted, Reuben Hawkshaw took every precaution to enable him to keep his reckoning, heaving the log every half hour, and noting constantly each change in the direction of the wind; so that, when all was over, he could tell within fifty miles the spot where the gale left her--for in those days the instruments of navigation were in their infancy, and sailors relied chiefly on the compass, and dead reckoning, to bring them safe to port, however long their voyage might be. Reuben Hawkshaw knew of no other plan, but as far as these went he was an excellent navigator, and was seldom many miles out in making a landfall.
As soon as the gale abated, sail was again made on the ship, and she proceeded on her course. In another three weeks, the mates were seen frequently to ascend into the tops, and the news spread among the crew that the Spanish islands lay not far ahead. The justness of the captain's reckoning was soon proved; for at daybreak, one morning, land was perceived directly ahead; though still lying, like a patch of low cloud, on the horizon.
A cheer broke from those on deck, as soon as the mate proclaimed that to a certainty it was land they saw, and the watch below came pouring up. Another cheer saluted the captain as he came out from his cabin--a tribute to his seamanship, in thus bringing them straight across the ocean, on a path that no Englishman had ever before sailed.
He, with the two mates, at once ascended to the fore top. From here, as the morning brightened, two other points of land could be seen, far away on either hand.
"We are evidently approaching small islands. This is just what we hoped. My fear was that we might strike Hispaniola, or Porto Rico. When we get nearer land we will lower our topsails, so as not to be so easily made out from the land. Now we will go below, and try and mark off our place on the chart."
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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4
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: Among The Islands.
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"Now, let us go through our calculations again," the captain said when they entered his cabin.
"How long will you be, Captain?" the first mate asked.
"Half an hour, Standing."
"Then I will come again or, if you want me before that, send for me," and the first mate went out on deck again, for though well skilled to handle a ship in all weathers, and as brave and hardy a seaman as sailed out of Plymouth, James Standing could neither read nor write; and though in a rough sort of way he could reckon the course a ship should lie, and make allowance for leeway and currents and baffling winds, and could bring a ship into any port in England or the Low Countries, he was of no use in a matter of this kind.
Pengarvan was a good scholar, and Reuben had taught him what he knew of navigation, and always made him keep a log from the time when he first became a mate; at first comparing their calculations every day, and then but once a week; arguing over the allowances each had made for tide and leeway; and sometimes finding to his surprise, on arriving in port, that Pengarvan's calculations were even nearer to the truth than his own.
This was a great satisfaction to him, for he felt that, if aught should happen to himself when on a voyage, Pengarvan could be trusted to bring the Swan home, as safely and surely as he could himself. Roger had, for the last two years, been going through the same schooling; but as yet he was very far from attaining accuracy, being unwilling to make sufficient allowance for the great leeway that a vessel, in those days, made with the wind abeam.
"Now, Pengarvan," Reuben said in great glee, "bring out your log book. We have not compared notes since we started, for till we expected to reach land there was no occasion to do so, as our general course was clear enough. Now let us see where you put her.
"And you, too, Roger; let us see what hand you have made of it.
"I went through my calculations yesterday, and I am sure that there is no mistake in the figures. If I am right, this is the island that we see ahead, the one called Samona; while that we see dimly away on the port hand is Mariguana. I don't see, by this map, any land marked that could be that which we see on the starboard hand.
"Now, what do you make of it?"
"I put it more than a degree to the southeast, Captain; and believe that the three islands we see are those marked as the Caicos: the Great Caicos in the center, North and East on either hand."
"And you, Roger, what do you make of it?"
"According to my calculation, father, we ought to be full two hundred miles from land, and heading straight for Abaco, the northernmost of these islands."
The captain laughed, and even Pengarvan smiled.
"I fear, Roger, it would be hardly safe to leave the ship in your hands, at present. You are some six hundred miles away from Pengarvan's islands, and but seventy less from mine.
"Well, Pengarvan, whether you or I be right, we may congratulate ourselves; for we have made a near cast, indeed, seeing that it is eight weeks since we left England, and more than six since we sailed out of sight of Madeira; and that we traversed a sea altogether strange to us, and of whose currents we know nothing. We are both right, to a day, in our reckoning of distance; and neither of us need feel hurt, if the other turns out right, at finding himself but sixty miles out, on a voyage of such length as this.
"I headed for this point because, as I said, we must steer clear of the great islands; which are, as you know, wholly in the possession of the Spaniards, who have dispossessed the inhabitants, and use them as slaves for working the plantations and mines. As you see by the chart, they have no posts in all these islands, running from here northwest, nearly up to the mainland; except a small post at San Salvador. Now we will coast up through these islands, till we get within sight of Columbus Point, at the southerly end of San Salvador; for that was the island, you know, that was first discovered by him in '92. Then we will strike westward to Andros, and after that shape her course due west. This will take us north of the west end of Cuba, and well out of sight of land; but we must be careful of our navigation, for as you see it is written here: "'Small islands, innumerable, scattered among those marked here; these being the principal. Many of these islands are low, and show but little above the water. Sailing is very perilous, and not to be attempted at night.'
"You see, in this course we shall have the advantage of being well out of the ordinary line of passage of the Spaniards, who shape their course more to the southward, make Porto Rico their first landfall, and then have the two great islands, Hispaniola and Cuba, lying straight before them; free, as it seems, by the chart, from any dangers to navigation.
"Roger, from this evening we will compare our log books day by day, so that you may learn where it is that you have gone wrong. But I can guess how it is. The wind is blowing chiefly from the east, and you will never make allowance enough for drift; and I have told you over and over again that, with a light wind on our beam, we drive a mile to leeward for every two we go on our course. There are many ships which will drift nigh a mile for every mile they sail, in light winds. When the wind is brisk, and we are going fast through the water, then we drift but little, not more perhaps than one mile to six or seven."
"But why is that, father? How is it that a light wind blows us away sideways; and that a strong wind, instead of blowing us more, blows us less?"
"That I cannot tell you, Roger. You must leave those questions for wiser heads to settle. I only know that it is so--of that there is no doubt at all; but why, I have not the least idea.
"How does it strike you, Pengarvan?"
The Cornishman shook his head.
"I have thought it over, Captain, many times. It seems to me, sometimes, that I have a sort of notion why it is; but it is not clear, even to myself. I could not put it into words."
The first mate now looked into the cabin.
"Here we are, James. Pengarvan puts her here, opposite these three little islands. I put her here some sixty miles away."
"It matters not at all, that I can see, which it is," Standing said. "One island is as good as another, so that it has got water and fruit. The tubs are getting low, and the men are beginning to need a change of diet; so I hope, Captain, you will lay her to at the first we come to, and get what we want, whether it is Spaniard or native we have to fight for it."
"I hope we shall have to fight neither, Standing; but I don't think we are likely to meet with Spaniards--for all the islands in these groups are small ones, and the navigation dangerous. As for the Indians, I fear we may not find them very friendly, seeing that they will, of course, take us for Spaniards, whom they have little reason to love. Still, when they see that our intentions are peaceable, and that we wish only to trade, they may abate their hostility."
In three hours they were close to the island that they had first seen, which proved to be much nearer than they had supposed, at first sight. It was low, and thickly covered with trees, and of only a few miles' circumference.
"There is no chance of finding the natives hostile here," Reuben Hawkshaw said. "Their numbers can be but scanty, and the only fear is that they may hide themselves in the woods at our approach, and refuse to have dealing with us.
"Get the lead ready to sound, James, and put some grease on the bottom, that we may see what kind of holding ground it is."
As the sun had risen the wind had fallen, and the Swan was now moving very slowly through the water. They were about a mile from the land when the log was first hove.
"Eighteen fathoms, Captain," the mate reported, adding when the lead was hauled up, "and a sandy bottom."
Casting the lead regularly, they sailed on until within little more than a quarter of a mile of the shore, and there dropped anchor in six fathoms of water.
"I shouldn't like to be caught in a gale here," the captain said; "but if it did come on to blow, we could get up our anchor and sail round to the other side of the island, where we should be in shelter."
"There are some natives, father," Roger, who was watching the shore, exclaimed. "They are waving green branches."
"Wave a white flag, Roger. Fasten anything white to a boat hook, and wave it. They may understand that, as the white flag is in use by all nations as a sign of peace, and they may have seen the Spaniards use it.
"Get one of the boats lowered, James--the long boat will be the best--let its crew take their arms with them, but lay them under the seats, so as to land in peaceable guise. I myself will go ashore in her, and see what are the intentions of the natives. Get a couple of guns loaded, and if you see they attack us, fire a shot over their heads into the woods. That will be enough to frighten them. However, I think not that we shall have trouble."
A couple of boxes had already been got on deck by the captain's orders, and some strings of glass beads, hawk bells, and other articles of trade taken out.
"You can come with me, Roger," the captain said; and in a few minutes the boat rowed towards the shore.
Eight men sat at the oars, and eight others were bestowed in the bow and stern. She would have carried twice as many, but the captain wished to avoid any show of force.
The group of natives had increased, by the time the boat reached the shore; and the captain saw that they consisted of two men who were apparently chiefs, and some thirty of inferior rank. They continued to wave green branches, and their attitude was so peaceful that the captain did not hesitate to leap ashore, as soon as the boat touched the strand.
"You follow me, Roger; and you others keep your hands on your arms, ready to use them. But sit quiet, and do not show your weapons unless there be occasion."
The chiefs advanced with a timid air towards the newcomers; and, on approaching, saluted in an attitude of deep humility, using the Spanish word Amigos.
"Amigos--Friends," repeated the captain, in a cheerful tone.
Roger gazed with intense interest upon these strange beings. They were, in color, but little darker than the Moors who had tried to capture the Swan, on her last voyage. They were of good height, but of slender figure. Their countenances were soft and almost feminine, with large dark eyes and mild and gentle expression. They had no hair upon their faces; that on their heads was long and black. Round their heads were light gold bands, from which rose plumes of colored feathers. They were naked above the waist, save that over one shoulder cotton cloths, ornamented with fantastic patterns wrought in bright feathers, were lightly thrown.
From the waist they wore cotton petticoats, reaching to the knees. Both had belts decorated by shells, worked into intricate patterns; and from similar belts, crossing the shoulder, hung quivers filled with small arrows. They had necklaces and bracelets of bright beads, of European manufacture; and both carried light spears, their bows hanging from their shoulders.
Their followers were similarly dressed, save that the fillets round their heads, instead of being gold, were strips of skin decorated with shells and beads, and the mantles were of plain cotton.
The captain took from his pouch two necklaces of large blue beads, and presented them to the chiefs, and also gave to each of them a small hatchet. These they received with tokens of gratitude; being specially pleased with the hatchets, which were articles vastly prized by the natives, and rarely bestowed upon them by the Spaniards, who were very chary of presenting the natives with anything that could be used as a weapon.
The captain then made a sign to the natives to approach, and bestowed a necklace of smaller beads upon each. He next called to the sailors, and bade them come ashore, bringing with them only their hangers; for there was no doubt that the natives were friendly.
While they were doing so, four of the natives, at the order of their chiefs, brought forward large baskets; beautifully plaited and, as Roger judged, made of the tender bark of some tree. The chiefs took these from their attendants and, opening them, placed them before the captain with a gesture of humility. They were filled with fruits, all of which were of kinds such as neither Roger, nor his father, had seen before.
The sailors now brought forward an empty barrel, and the captain signified that they required water. One or two billets of wood were also shown, and the captain signified, by action, that he wished his men should be allowed to cut wood, to carry on board ship. He also pointed to the baskets of fruit, and then showed some more strings of beads, and some hawk bells, intimating his desire to trade.
The natives readily comprehended the gestures. Pointing to the keg, they intimated, by signs, that the ship should be moved round to the other side of the island; and that fruit would be taken to them there.
The men would, gladly enough, have wandered at once into the woods to look at the trees and flowers, which differed widely from anything they had ever before seen; but the captain said: "We shall have time enough for that, men. Let us get off with this fruit. Our comrades on board will be thirsting for their share. Then we will get the ship round on the other side; and all will have an opportunity to go ashore."
As soon as they got on board, a portion of the fruit was set aside, for the use of the officers, and the rest divided among the crew. Although they were ignorant of the names, the men enjoyed hugely the pineapples, guavas, and custard apples that formed the major portion of the contents of the baskets; and cheerfully set about the work of getting up their anchor, and setting the sails.
But the wind had now entirely dropped, and the Swan scarce moved through the water. So anxious, however, were the men to land, that they gladly obeyed the captain's orders to get out all the boats and tow her--although the heat was so great that, at any other time, they would have shrunk from such a labor.
As soon as they reached the other side of the island, the anchor was dropped and, the men on board having already made everything snug, Captain Reuben called those who had been towing out of the boats.
"My lads," he said, "I wish to say a few words, before you land. In the first place, you cannot all go. It would never do to leave the ship without sufficient hands on board to fight her, seeing that at any moment a Spaniard may come round one end of the island or the other, and fall upon us. Consequently, half must remain on board, and take their turn on shore tomorrow. I wish to give no advantage to any; therefore the boatswain shall put two pieces of folded paper in his hat, one being blank and the other having a cross upon it. If the blank paper is drawn, the starboard watch shall go ashore, and the larboard take their turn tomorrow. If the paper with the cross comes out, it will be the other way.
"One more matter: I shall expect the discipline on shore to be as good as it has been on board ship. The natives are to be treated well, and all that we get from them shall be by fair barter, and it shall be conducted for the advantage of all. The first mate and boatswain will take ashore some of the goods we have brought for the purpose of trade, and they will buy not only such things as we require for the ship--fruit and vegetables--but whatever the natives may have to sell.
"All these things will be brought on board, and then those of you who wish for any of these articles, as a token from the first island at which we touched, can take them; making an auction among yourselves, the sums to be deducted from your wages. In this way all will be on a fair footing, and the proceeds of the sale will go into the general fund, to be divided at the end of the voyage. Nevertheless, I should advise you not to purchase now, but to leave it until we have finished all our business, and are on our homeward way. Then we shall see what we have obtained, and each man can buy according to his liking. I say this because, if you get things now, they will litter up the ship, and will get broken, lost, or thrown overboard; and it were far better that everything remained packed in the hold, until we are on the homeward voyage.
"Another thing: Let each man behave himself decently on shore. Be gentle and kind to the natives who, though but heathens, are a harmless people, and friendly. Let there be no quarrels or disputes; and above all, let none meddle with the women. I warn you that any breach of these orders will be most severely punished; and that, moreover, anyone who does so offend will never have leave to go ashore again, not if we cruise for ten years among these islands."
The second mate and Roger remained on board with the starboard watch, the drawing giving the advantage to the others; and these, with the captain and first mate, were soon rowing towards the shore. Those on board, although disappointed that fate had decided against them, had their share of amusement, for a good many canoes afterwards came off to them, filled with goods for barter; and as the captain, before leaving, had told the second mate that he could buy and sell with those who came out, a brisk trade was soon established.
They had no fear of treachery from the natives, who were in such dread of the white men that they would not venture to lift a hand against them, however great the odds might be; and they were, therefore, allowed to come on board and mix freely with the sailors. The contents of the canoes, chiefly fruit and vegetables, were spread out on the deck, and the mate and Roger bargained with them, giving them little looking glasses, and strings of beads, in exchange for their wares.
"They are mighty reasonable in their demands," Roger said to Pengarvan. "It seems almost a shame to take these great baskets of fruit and vegetables, in return for such trifles."
"They are not trifles to them," the mate replied, "and there is nothing unfair in the exchange. These things are to them what gold and jewels are to us. We would give, gladly, a score of boatloads of vegetables for a diamond the size of a pea; and these glass beads are as valuable, in their eyes, as diamonds are in ours."
After buying up the main stock, they trafficked with the natives for the little ornaments they wore, necklaces and bracelets cunningly worked with bright shells and seeds, and weapons of curiously carved wood. At nightfall the other boats returned, laden down with fruit and vegetables. " 'We must buy no more of these commodities, at present," Captain Reuben said, when he saw what had been purchased on board. "We have got enough to last us as long as they will keep, eat we never so heartily;" and indeed, the next day a number of the crew were ill, from the quantity of fruit that they consumed.
This, however, soon passed off, and the change of diet did great good. The scurvy disappeared, and in a short time all--even those who had suffered most--were again fit for duty.
The following morning, Roger and Pengarvan went ashore with the starboard watch. The captain again accompanied them, and for hours they rambled about the island, wondering at the strange trees and foliage and the bright flowers; and filled especially with admiration at the tiny birds, with feathers like jewels, that flitted about among the flowers, and concerning which there was much dispute among the men--some asserting that they were a sort of great bee, while others maintained that they were birds. So quickly did they fly that the men, although they tried hard, failed to catch any of them; but the dispute as to their nature was solved, by the discovery that one of the chiefs had a robe fringed with the skins of these little creatures; and examining these they saw, surely enough, that they were birds, with feathers glistening in the sun like jewels of many colors Captain Reuben persuaded the chief to cut off the fringe and sell it to him, giving in exchange for it the high price of four copper rings, and a tiny looking glass.
In the afternoon the crew set to work to re-water the ship, and by nightfall all the casks were filled up, and the vessel was ready to proceed again on her way. The next morning sails were hoisted and the anchor weighed. The natives came out in great numbers in their canoes, and surrounded the Swan as she glided away from her anchorage, waving their hands and raising cries of farewell--evidently greatly satisfied at the treatment they had received at the hands of their white visitors.
For a fortnight the Swan cruised from island to island; but beyond giving the crew a run ashore at each, and so building up their strength and getting them in fighting trim, should there be occasion to call upon them for action, little advantage was obtained from these visits. Fruit and vegetables were obtainable in abundance; but beyond these, and little trinkets and feathers, there was no trade to be done.
"It is clear," Captain Reuben said, as he and his officers were gathered in the cabin, "that there is neither gain nor advantage to be obtained from trade here. The natives have doubtless sufficient for their wants, which are of the simplest; but of wealth such as we prize in England there is none to be had. It is different with the Spaniards--they make slaves of these poor creatures, and force them to till their plantations, to raise crops for them, and to work mines; but we, who cannot do these things, can get nothing from a longer stay in these coasts.
"We touched here chiefly to get water and fruit, to keep us all in health, and in that we have abundantly succeeded. We had best now shape our course westward, and try to find this new land, rich in gold, of which my friend the Spanish captain learned by report from the natives. So far we have fallen in with no Spaniards, but we may do so at any time; and although I have no fear of beating off any that might meddle with us, it would do us great harm did the news spread that a strange ship was in these waters; for they would assuredly send out expeditions in search of us, from all their ports, as soon as the news reached them."
The others quite agreed with Captain Reuben's views, and the next morning the ship's head was pointed west. Two days later, when passing an island they saw, on opening a headland, a port with many houses, and a Spanish flag flying from a mast on shore. Two large Spanish vessels were lying there. They were apparently on the point of sailing, for the sails were already dropped.
An exclamation of surprise broke from all on the deck of the Swan, and the men ran to the braces and sheets, in order to trim the sails.
"Steady, men!" Captain Reuben shouted. "Touch not sheet or tack. We must sail past as if bent on our own business. If we change our course, now, they will suspect that something is wrong.
"Pengarvan, do you get out the Spanish flag from the locker, and run it up to the peak."
This was done, though it was easy to see, by the looks the crew cast towards the strange craft, that they would gladly go in and fight them.
"Another time, lads," Captain Reuben said cheerfully, as he saw their mood. "I doubt not we shall have enough fighting to satisfy you, before we have done; but our object here is to trade, and get rich. If thrashing the Dons comes in the way of business, we shall do it contentedly; but there is no occasion for us to put ourselves out of the way to meet them. Supposing we were to go in, and sink those two ships; as I doubt not we are men enough to do, if we were to try it. They would see it all from the shore; and no sooner did we set sail again, than boats would carry the news to every Spanish port in these quarters, and we should have a score of ships in pursuit of us, in no time; and, whatever came of it, that would interfere with the hopes of gain with which we have sailed to these seas.
"This port must be a newly formed one," he went on, turning to Roger, "for there is no Spanish station marked hereabout, in my chart."
The course which the Swan was taking would have carried her half a mile to seaward of the two Spanish vessels, but she now edged a point or two farther out. Doubtless the Spaniards were surprised at seeing that the vessel, instead of entering the port, continued her course; and it may be that they very soon discovered such points in her hull, and rigging, as set them wondering what she could be.
Presently a gun was fired from one of the ships--as a signal, doubtless, for her to heave to. The Swan paid no attention to the command, but kept on her course. In two minutes there was another flash and a puff of white smoke from the Spaniard, and a shot skipped across the water in front of the Swan. A growl of anger broke from her crew.
"Put up the helm," Captain Reuben ordered; and the vessel, which was running before the wind, came up till her head pointed straight to sea.
Although the Spanish ships were still three-quarters of a mile away, a bustle was at once observable on their decks. Men clustered at the bows, and could be seen at work there.
"They are getting up the anchors," Pengarvan said, as he watched them, shading his eyes with his hands.
Three or four minutes later the sails were sheeted home, and the Spaniard began to move through the water, having set sail as soon as the anchors were tripped. No sooner were they under weigh, and the crews at their quarters, than they began to discharge their bow guns after the Swan.
"Shall we answer them, Captain?" James Standing asked. "We can bring a couple of guns aft, and fire over the rail."
"By no means," Captain Reuben replied. "At present they know nothing about us, and though they may guess that we are not licensed traders, with due authority to trade among the islands, I do not suppose they suspect, for a moment, that we are foreigners; but deem us a private venture, from one of their own ports. No Spanish trader would dare to fire on their own flag and, as long as we do not reply, they will suppose that we are only trying to escape the payment of some heavy fine, or perhaps forfeiture, for breach of their regulations.
"No, they can fire away. They are not likely to hurt us. They are fully a mile behind us, and we shall soon leave them."
But in this respect the captain was mistaken. The Spaniards were both fast vessels; and although the Swan kept her distance, those on board presently saw that she gained nothing. The shot continued to fall around them, but the Spaniards worked their guns slowly. The pieces on their forecastles were light ones, and though two or three shot passed through the sails of the Swan, they did but little damage.
"As long as they don't knock away a spar we will hold on," Captain Reuben said. "If they do, we will turn and fight them. But the wind is dropping a little, and I think that, if anything, we are gaining upon them now."
By the afternoon the Swan was fully two miles ahead, and the Spaniards had discontinued firing. The Swan was heading now to pass an island which had, for some hours, been visible ahead. Presently the Spaniards again began firing, although their shot fell in the water far astern of the Swan.
"What are the lubbers up to now?" James Standing said. "They cannot think they are going to frighten us into stopping, now that we have fairly got away from them."
Captain Reuben was anxiously gazing at the island ahead. They had laid their course to pass it to windward, as they sailed better, close-hauled, than did the Spaniard; who had not only fallen behind, but had lagged to leeward nigh half a mile.
"They must be firing as a signal," he said. "There may either be a Spanish port in the island, or they may know that there are some of their ships lying there; though I can see no signs, either of a port or ships."
"It would matter little if we could, Captain," Pengarvan said; "for any ships along that shore would be to leeward of us, and we should pass the end of the island long before they could beat up there; but it would be awkward if there happened to be a port, with two or three of their ships, just beyond that point. We should be caught between two fires then, and have to fight the lot of them."
The captain nodded.
"You are right, Pengarvan. We should be in a fix, then; and four Spaniards at once is more than we bargained for."
They were now within two miles of the point towards which they were steering, and towards which the eyes of the two officers on the poop were directed. Five minutes later an exclamation broke from them, simultaneously, as the sails of a lofty ship made their appearance over the extremity of the point, and a minute later a great hull came into sight.
"Helm to larboard," Captain Reuben ordered sharply. "We must run down the island. We can never weather that fellow that has just appeared.
"Ah! There are two others coming out. We are in a hornets' nest."
The sails were squared off, and the Swan was soon running before the wind; almost parallel with the coast, but edging in a little, to keep her farther from the vessels that had first chased them. These had also changed their course, and their position to leeward now gave them an advantage.
Ere long the Swan was almost abreast her late pursuers, who were about a mile and a quarter to seaward; while the other three Spanish ships, with all sails set, were a mile and a half astern, but a good deal nearer in shore.
"The sun will be down in another five minutes," Captain Reuben said, "and in half an hour it will be dark. The Spaniards can run quite as fast as we can--a bit faster, I think; but we can beat them, close hauled. The wind is falling lighter and lighter. If it was not for that, we would haul our wind and be off on the other tack, and throw all of them out. But it will be a dead calm before long, and they will be either lowering all their boats to attack us, or towing their ships up to us. If we were close under the land they might miss us, but they will be able to make us out, here. At any rate, we must hold on as we are, until the wind drops altogether."
After sunset the breeze died away rapidly and, by the time night had fully set in, the sails dropped motionless, and the Swan ceased to move through the water. The captain at once ordered all the boats to be lowered, and the men swarmed into them, double banking the oars. Hawsers were handed into them, and the vessel's head swept round in the direction from which she had come, but somewhat farther seaward.
"Now, lads," the captain said, "pull with a will. There will be a good supper, and an allowance of strong ale, when you come on board."
After rowing for half an hour, the captain ordered them to cease, and to keep silence. Listening attentively, he could hear in the still night air the sound of oars; but whether the boats were towing the ships, or rowing independently, he could not tell. Again the men set to work.
"I hope they are towing," he said to the first mate. "They would have no chance whatever of catching us, for our strong crew can take a vessel like the Swan through the water at twice the rate they could row their big ships. I can't see the fellows in shore, can you?"
"No, Captain. They are hid in the shadow of the land. I can make out the others, but they are a long way farther off than when we started."
"I expect we shall have the boats after us, Standing. Both lots can make us out, and can see that we are gaining on them.
"Ah! I felt a breath of wind. I did not expect it for an hour or two yet; but if the breeze springs up, we shall soon run away from them."
Stopping and listening again, they could hear the sound of oars, from two directions.
"They are coming," the captain said. "The beat is quicker than it would be if they were towing; besides, it is a great deal more distinct than it was. I don't think they are more than a mile behind us.
"Ah! There is the wind again."
There was a deep flapping sound, and a rattling of blocks, as the sails bellied out for a moment, and then fell against the masts again. Captain Reuben went to the forecastle: "Keep it up, lads. You won't have much longer to row, for the wind is coming. The Spaniards are after us, but they won't be up for a quarter of an hour, and I hope we shall get it before that. Remember, every yard we can keep away from them is of importance. Put your backs to it, lads."
The Swan carried four boats and, strongly manned as these were, she was gliding through the water at a fair rate. It was five minutes before another breath of wind came, but this lasted three or four minutes, and greatly relieved the strain from the hawsers.
"She is going through the water now," the captain said. "They cannot be gaining very much upon us, at present.
"Confound it!" he added, a minute later. "There is an end of it again."
The boats were now but half a mile away, and the voices of the officers, urging the rowers to exert themselves, could be plainly heard, On the Swan the officers were all gazing in the direction from which the wind was to come. The yards were all braced sharply aft. Presently there was an exclamation of relief, as they felt the wind in their faces, and the vessel heeled a little over. The boats behind were but a quarter of a mile away now, while those from the vessels inshore were perhaps twice that distance.
"If this is the true breeze we are safe," the captain said. "If not, we shall have to fight for it."
The men had already, without orders, cast loose the guns, and armed themselves with pike and cutlass.
"Now listen, lads," the captain said, as he went forward to the poop rail, "if these fellows come up and try to board us, let no man utter a word. Fight like bulldogs, and as silently. We shall beat them off, never fear. No doubt they believe that we are their countrymen, who have broken their trading regulations, and are afraid of being overhauled. But if there is a word spoken they will know that we are foreigners, and we shall be chased wherever we go."
Then he went to the forecastle, and bade all the men in the boats cast off the hawsers and come on board. They were, indeed, no longer of any use, as the vessel was going through the water almost as fast as they could row ahead of her. As they gained the deck he repeated the orders he had given--that strict silence should be observed, in case the Spaniards came alongside.
Everything now depended on continuance of breeze, and those on board the boats saw that the vessel was now holding her own with them. Orders to throw the ship up into the wind and heave to were shouted and, as no attention was paid to these, several musket shots were fired at her; but the wind held and, faster and faster, the Swan made her way through the water. At last the boats fell behind, and were lost to sight.
"We are safe now," Reuben said, exultantly. "We are to windward of them all, and shall have them well out of sight, before morning."
When day broke, indeed, the topsails of three of the Spanish ships could be seen on the horizon; but in two or three hours these sank out of sight, and the Swan was headed on her course west.
|
{
"id": "19398"
}
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5
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: Shipwrecked.
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For six days the Swan sailed westward before a gentle wind. Then clouds were seen rising in the north, and spreading with great rapidity across the horizon.
"We are in for a tempest," Captain Reuben said. "Never have I seen the clouds rising more rapidly.
"Get her sail off her, Standing, as quickly as possible."
The crew fell to work, and in a very few minutes the Swan was stripped of the greater part of her canvas. But quickly as the men worked, the storm came up more rapidly, and the crew had but half finished their work when, with a roar and turmoil that almost bewildered them, the gale struck the vessel. Her head had been laid to the south, so that the wind should take her astern; and it was well that it was so, for had it struck her on the beam, she would assuredly have been capsized, even had not a rag of canvas been shown, for the wind would have caught her lofty forecastle and poop. As it was she plunged heavily forward, quivering as if from a blow. Then her bluff bows bore her up and, with a leap, she sprang forward and sped along before the gale.
"I have seen as sudden a squall among the Greek islands," Captain Reuben shouted in the mate's ear; "but never elsewhere. I hope that this may prove as short as do the gales in that quarter."
"I hope so," the mate replied, "for we know not how far the land may be distant."
But though the captain knew it not, they had been caught in one of those furious gales that were, afterwards, the terror of the Spaniards; blowing for a week or ten days without intermission, and being the cause of the wreck of many a stout ship. The sea got up rapidly, and the wind seemed to increase in fury as night fell, and for three days the ship ran before it. The waist was frequently deluged with water, and it required six men at the helm to keep her straight before the wind.
The crew were worn out with fatigue and want of sleep, for running as they were in this unknown sea, none could say what might happen, or when land might be sighted ahead. The captain never left the poop--he and the mates taking their places, by turn, with the men at the helm; for the slightest error in steering might have caused the vessel to broach to, in which case nothing could have saved her. Sheltered as was the caboose, it was found impossible to keep a fire alight, and officers and men, alike, had to content themselves with biscuit and draughts of ale.
The vessel rolled till her bulwarks were under water, and the yardarms at times dipped into the sea, and the men on deck were forced to lash themselves to some standing object, to retain their footing. The captain occasionally made his way forward to the forecastle, where the men not on duty were huddled together, and spoke cheeringly to them, saying that the gale could not last much longer, and that as the Swan had weathered it so far, she would hold on to the end.
At the commencement of the storm a tremendous rain had fallen, but when this had ceased the sky had cleared up, and for the last two days the sun had shone out brightly, and not a cloud had been seen.
When morning broke on the fourth day a cry of dismay broke from the wearied men on deck, for ahead could be seen land, stretching away on both bows. The news brought the crew from below, and they clustered on the forecastle, gazing in the direction of this new danger.
"We must try and get some sail on her mizzen, Standing," the captain said. "Our only chance is to bring her head to wind."
"We can try, Captain, but I fear that you will never bring her round."
"It is our only chance," the captain repeated, and with a loud shout, he called for some hands to come aft.
The mizzen was shaken out and, as soon as the sheets were hauled aft, the helm was put down. A cry burst from the crew as she came round, for as the wind took her on the beam she lay farther and farther over. A great wave struck her broadside, sweeping the bulwarks away as if they had been paper, and carrying a number of the crew off the forecastle into the sea. Still farther over she went, and all thought that she would capsize; when there were a series of reports, like musket shots, as the lashings of the shrouds parted. This was followed instantly by a crash, as the mizzen mast snapped off, two feet above the deck.
Relieved of the strain, the Swan righted somewhat. Another great wave swept over her forecastle, still further diminishing the number of the crew, but it carried her head round. She came up onto an even keel, and again started on her mad course before the wind.
"Go forward, Pengarvan, and see how many hands we have lost," the captain said. "Not that it makes much difference, for they have but gone a short time before the rest of us, for nothing short of a miracle can save us, now."
It could now be seen that the coast was steep and rocky, and that the waves were breaking with tremendous force upon it. It was but about four miles distant, and in less than half an hour they would be upon it.
"We must try to anchor, Standing."
The first mate shook his head.
"We will try, Captain, but our anchors will never hold her in the teeth of this gale. If they did, the hawsers would go like pack thread."
"I am afraid so, Standing; but there is nothing else to do."
The first mate went forward, and he and Pengarvan saw the anchors got in readiness, and the cables ranged along, so as to run out with perfect freedom. Then Pengarvan made his way aft again to the poop.
"Do you mean to cut away the mast, Captain?"
The captain nodded.
"I wouldn't, sir," the mate went on. "She will never hold, mast or no mast; and if it stands, we make a shift to run her head foremost on the rocks, and this will give us a better chance than if she drifts broadside on."
"You are right, Pengarvan. Yes, it will be better to leave it standing."
When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the helm was again put down and, as the vessel came partly round, the the anchors were let go. The hawsers ran out rapidly, and the topsail, which was the only sail on her, was let go, the wind catching it and tearing it into ribbons as it was loosed. There was a jerk and a surge as the anchors brought her up, but at the same moment a great wave struck her head. The cables parted, and she again swung round towards the shore.
"It is all over with us, my lad," the captain said to Roger, who was standing quietly beside him. "God forgive me, I have brought you all here to die."
"It is not your fault, father. It was all for the best, and we knew when we started that there were perils before us."
"Goodbye, my lads! We will die as we have lived--brave men--and may God have mercy on us all.
"Now, Roger, obey my last orders. Go forward, and climb up to the end of the bowsprit. It may be that, if she strikes, you may be able to leap forward onto the rocks. They are somewhat lower, just ahead, than elsewhere."
"But I do not want to be saved, if no one else is, father," Roger cried passionately.
"You have always obeyed me heretofore," the captain said, quietly, "and you will do so now. Go forward at once, and do as I say. God bless you, my boy."
He clasped Roger in his arms, in a moment's close embrace, and then pointed forward.
Roger's eyes were blinded with tears as he obeyed the order. The bowsprit in those days did not, as now, run out almost horizontally from the ship's bow; but stood up like a mast, leaning somewhat over the bow, and carried a yard and small square sail upon it. Roger climbed up as far as the yard and then, aiding himself by the halyards, swarmed up until he reached the cap. When he did so the vessel was but little more than a hundred yards from the shore.
The water was deep up to the rocks, for the waves struck on these unbroken, flying up in masses of spray which flew far over the land. On his lofty post, thirty feet above the forecastle and forty-five above the water, Roger was nearly level with the top of the rock ahead; and as the vessel rose on the waves, could see a flat land, extending far inland.
He looked down. Two or three of the sailors had followed him as high as the yard, and many others were gathered on the forecastle. Some were kneeling in prayer, others had thrown themselves down despairingly on the deck, but most were standing, looking forward with set faces at the rocky barrier so close at hand.
Roger looked aft. The men at the tiller had quitted it now, and gone forward. Standing and Pengarvan were standing, one on each side of the captain. The latter took off his cap and waved it to his son, and the mates lifted their hands in token of adieu.
A cry from below caused Roger, as he returned the salute, to look round. They were but a ship's length from the rocks. Another moment a great wave lifted the vessel, and on its crest she went thundering forward. The rocks seemed to leap up against the spar to which Roger clung. It snapped off just below his feet, then a great volume of water and spray shot up from below, and he was thrown high into the air. The wind caught him and carried him away inland, and he fell, with a crash that left him senseless.
It was long before he recovered consciousness. As soon as he did so, he crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the cliff, and looked down. The Swan had disappeared. Not a sign of her remained, not so much as a floating timber showed on the surface of the water.
Roger crawled back again for some distance, and then threw himself down, and wept despairingly. He lay there for hours, until the heat of the sun, blazing almost vertically down, roused him. Then he got on to his feet and looked round.
In front of him stretched a slightly undulating country. Patches of maize, here and there, showed that it was cultivated; and in the distance he saw a large village, with buildings of a size that proved that the people had made some advance towards civilization. Slowly and painfully, for he was greatly bruised by his fall, he made his way to the nearest maize patch, and ate several heads of green corn. Then he started for the village.
When within a few hundred yards of it, he came upon three women, who were coming out with baskets on their heads. They paused as he approached them, and then, with a cry of astonishment and fear, turned and ran towards the village.
Their cries brought a number of people to the doors. Among these were many men, who had caught up spears, and bows and arrows, at the alarm. Seeing but one person approaching, in a garb altogether strange to them, they stood in surprise. As he came up their wonder heightened, at perceiving that his color was altogether different from their own; and they dropped their threatening weapons, and stood as if paralyzed by wonder.
Roger had not faltered in his step, as he saw them issue out. Death had no terror for him, now his father and all his friends were gone; and he was altogether reckless of what befell him. The fearlessness of his demeanor added to the effect produced by his appearance. His cap was gone, and the rays of the sun, falling upon his fair hair, added to the effect produced by his white skin.
The natives, taking him for a supernatural being, bowed themselves to the ground before him in an attitude of adoration. The cries and uproar that but a minute before had sounded in the village suddenly ceased, and were succeeded by the hush of deep awe.
Roger walked on between the prostrate natives, and seated himself on a stone at the door of a hut. The natives gradually rose to their feet and approached him timidly. He made signs that he wanted to drink, for a raging thirst had been induced by the heat.
One of the natives ran into a hut and reappeared with a bowl, filled with a liquid, which he humbly presented to Roger. The latter patted his head in token of thanks, and then took a long drink of the contents of the bowl. These were totally unlike anything he had before tasted; being pulque, a slightly fermented drink obtained from the juice of the agave, most useful of all the vegetable productions of Central America.
A native, who was distinguished by his dress from the rest, now gave an order; and in a short time two women approached, bearing a tray with some flat cakes of fine bread, and fruits of different kinds. More to please the natives than because he was hungry, for he felt little inclination for food, Roger partook of some of these.
The chief then harangued him at considerable length. When he had finished, Roger, who had stood up while he was addressing him, said: "I do not know a single word of what you are saying to me, but I thank you for your kindness."
He then shook hands with the chief, to whom that form of greeting was evidently new, and patted him on the shoulder.
The chief then conducted him to a large house. It was no higher than the rest, but was built of stone, well fitted together. The roof was roughly thatched, and could, Roger thought, afford but a poor shelter in time of rain. He did not know that, except at the commencement of a storm, rain was of comparatively rare occurrence upon the coast.
Inside the house showed signs of comfort. There were some seats decorated with carving. A finely woven mat covered the floor. Arms and utensils hung from the walls.
Several of the natives, evidently persons of consideration in the village, followed the chief in. Some girls and women came in from an interior room, and saluted the stranger with the greatest respect. They examined him timidly, one of the younger girls touching his hand gently, as if to make sure that it was skin, and not some strange covering, that gave it its color.
Roger took off his jacket, which was by this time dry, and turned up the sleeve of his shirt. As he did so, a general exclamation of surprise and admiration broke from the natives at the whiteness of the skin; which was far more striking, to them, than the bronzed hue of his face and hands.
The chief made various signs, which Roger at last understood to be a question as to whence he had come. He pointed in the direction of the sea, and tried to signify that he had arrived from a very long distance.
An hour passed, and Roger was beginning to wonder what the next move would be, when a native entered and, saluting the chief, said something to him. The women and children at once retired. A few minutes afterwards the chief went to the door, and motioned Roger to accompany him.
Coming down the street of the village was a procession. At its head walked two persons, evidently of high rank. They wore mantles, falling from their shoulders nearly to the ground, ornamented with designs executed in brightly colored feathers. They had circlets of gold round their heads, and heavy necklaces and bracelets of the same metal. Beneath the mantles they wore short petticoats of soft white material. Their spears and their arms were carried behind them, by attendants. Behind these came a number of men and women, walking in regular order, carrying bowls of fruit, trays of cooked food, and other offerings.
Roger saw at once that they must have come from a place of importance; which must be near at hand, as they had doubtless set out upon the receipt of a message, dispatched by his present entertainer. He guessed that the report must have been a favorable one of him, and that the natives were impressed with the idea that he was a superior being. It was, therefore, needful for him to comport himself so that this impression should be confirmed.
The chiefs bowed profoundly as they approached him, stooping so far forward that one hand touched the earth, and was then carried to their forehead. Roger did not understand the meaning of this, but he bowed graciously, as if accepting the homage that was offered.
The bearers then advanced, and placed the offerings on the ground. Among these was a mantle similar to that worn by the chiefs, but more richly embroidered. It struck Roger that, as his white skin excited so much admiration, it would be as well to show it. He was, too, somewhat ashamed of his garments; which were much worn, had turned a dingy hue from the sun and salt water, and had, moreover, shrunk much from their recent immersion. Taking up the robe, therefore, he motioned to the chiefs to stay where they were and, returning into the room, stripped to his waist; and then, throwing the mantle over his shoulders, returned to the entrance.
Something like a shout of welcome saluted him. The whiteness of his skin, as seen through the open mantle, astonished the natives; and they accepted his assumption of the garment, with which he had been presented, as a sign of the benevolent intentions of this supernatural visitor towards them.
The ambassadors now made signs in the direction from which they had come, and seemed to ask if he were willing to accompany them. He nodded his assent, and in a few minutes the procession again started, the chiefs taking their places one on either side of him, and the villagers falling in behind. The women struck up a sort of chant, in which all except the chiefs joined. For an hour they kept on their way and then, on ascending a small hill, a large town was seen.
"Tabasco," the chief said, pointing towards it.
Roger repeated the word, and in doing so evidently gave much pleasure to the chiefs. As they approached the town he could see many lofty buildings rising above it; and, as they passed through a line of long palisades that surrounded the place, a body of men issued out to meet him.
As they approached, they formed in order on each side of the road. All were armed with spears tipped with sharp, shiny stones, and carried bows and arrows. They were dressed in doublets of thickly quilted cotton, capable of turning an arrow or resisting the thrust of a native spear; although they would offer but poor protection against English arrows, or English weapons.
As they entered the town the streets were lined with similarly dressed soldiers; behind whom stood a crowd of natives, men and women saluting their strange visitor with loud cries of welcome. The procession continued its way until it stopped before a large building, at the entrance to which stood an aged chief. His mantle was completely composed of feather work, and plumes of feathers sprang from the golden fillet that encircled his head. Behind him were clustered a number of inferior chiefs.
He welcomed Roger courteously but gravely; and Roger guessed, at once, that he was superior to the superstitions of his people, and that he viewed him with a certain amount of suspicion. Roger bowed and, taking off the jackknife, which hung in its sheath from a string at his waist, drew it out and presented it to the chief.
The latter was evidently greatly struck by the gift. Gold and silver he knew, but this bright and shining metal was altogether new to him. He examined it closely, felt the edge and point, and then handed it to the chiefs behind him, to be examined by them. Roger saw by his manner that he had been favorably impressed, for the weapon was as strange and mysterious, to him, as the visitant.
The chief undid a large gold necklace that he wore, and offered it to Roger, who bowed and clasped it round his neck. The chief now led him inside the house, which was similar, but on a much larger scale, to that which he had before entered. Refreshments were placed before him. These he did not need, but thought it better to eat of them. While he was so doing, an animated conversation was maintained between the chief and his followers.
After a time, the chief made signs to him to follow him, and conducted him to a smaller house close by, which he made signs to him that he was to consider as his own. Mats had been already spread on the ground; rugs made of quilted cotton, for sleeping upon, piled in a corner; vases of flowers placed about the room, and all made ready for occupation. An old woman, followed by two young girls, came forward and saluted to the ground. They were slaves, whom the chief had appointed to wait upon the visitor.
No sooner had the chief left than a perfect levee commenced, and went on for hours; until it seemed to Roger that every man, woman, and child in the town must have called upon him. Most of them brought little presents as tokens of goodwill. Garlands of flowers were thrown round his neck, baskets of fruit, cakes made from maize flour, dishes of meat of various kinds, little trinkets of gold, baskets containing beans and many other eatable seeds, and a ground powder of brownish hue, of whose uses Roger was ignorant, but which he afterwards discovered to be cocoa, which furnished the most popular beverage of the natives.
Not until it was quite dark did the stream of visitors cease. Then the old slave dropped a hanging across the door, and one of the young ones brought forward to Roger, who was utterly worn out with the fatigues of the day, a bowl of steaming cocoa, and some cakes of fruit. Roger found the cocoa extremely palatable, and wholly unlike anything he had ever before tasted; and it seemed to invigorate him greatly.
After drinking, he spread some of the quilted mats upon the floor, and threw himself down upon them. The old woman had lighted a lamp, and withdrawn with the younger ones to an apartment behind; which served as their sleeping place, as well as kitchen.
Now that he was alone and had time to think, Roger broke down entirely. Was it possible that it was but this morning he was on board ship, with his father and friends; and that now all were gone, gone forever, and he was in a strange land, cut off from all hope of return, surrounded by people who, if they were friendly today, might yet, for aught he knew, slay him on the morrow?
For the time, however, his own fate occupied him but little. His thoughts turned almost exclusively upon his father. Upon their voyages together, his kindness and care for him, the high hopes they had cherished when they started upon their voyage, and above all upon his parting words, and the last gesture of farewell, just as the ship struck.
For hours Roger lay and sobbed. At last he heard a slight movement in the room and, looking up, saw one of the young slave girls regarding him with a look of deep pity. To her, as to everyone else, Roger had appeared as a supernatural being, come from they knew not whence; but the lad's sobs had touched her human feelings, and shown her that he had sorrows, like herself. Her look brought a feeling of comfort and companionship to Roger's heart; and as, on seeing that she was observed, she turned timidly to retire, he held out his hand to her.
She approached and knelt down beside him and, taking his hand, pressed it to her forehead. She was a girl of some fourteen years old, already, according to Mexican ideas, a woman.
"What is your name?" Roger asked.
The girl looked at him wonderingly, but shook her head. Roger thought a moment, and then touched himself on the breast.
"Roger," he said.
He repeated the word several times. Then he touched her lips and repeated "Roger," and, seeing what was expected, she repeated the word in a soft voice.
He nodded again, touched himself and said "Roger," and then touched her. She now saw what he meant. It was his own name he had spoken, and he now asked for hers.
"Malinche," she said, in her soft Indian voice.
"Malinche," he repeated, "you are a kind-hearted girl. I can see that, Malinche; and I hope we shall understand each other better, one of these days. I suppose you are a servant or a slave, and are not in a much better condition than myself. Now you had better go, and sleep."
He patted her on the shoulder, pointed to the door by which she had entered, closed his eyes as if in sleep, and then said, "Good night, Malinche."
The girl uttered some words he did not understand; but as they ended with Roger, and with a nod of her head she stole silently away, he supposed that it was something equivalent to his own "Goodnight."
Greatly comforted by this little incident, he rolled up one of the rugs as a pillow, laid his head upon it, and was almost instantaneously asleep. He woke with a feeling of surprise. The events of the previous day seemed to him but a dream, and he looked round, expecting to see the bulkhead of the little cabin he had occupied, on board the Swan. But the first glance assured him of the reality of the dream, and that he was alone, among a strange people.
He sprang at once to his feet, pulled aside a cloth that hung before an opening that served as a window, and let the rays of the sun stream in.
"I want some water, old dame," he said, in a loud voice.
The old woman at once entered. Roger made signs, by rubbing his hands together, and passing them over his face and head, that he wanted water. This the old woman brought, in a basin formed of the half of an immense gourd, and a soft cotton cloth with which to dry himself. Then she brought in a small pot, filled with something which looked to him like fat, but which he afterwards found was extracted from a vegetable, and put it down by the side of the water.
"I suppose that this is some sort of soap," Roger said to himself, and found on trial, to his great satisfaction, that it made an excellent lather.
After a good wash he felt greatly refreshed, and now attired himself completely in Mexican costume, a pile of garments of all sorts having been placed in one corner of the room. When he had finished the two girls entered, with a tray containing cocoa, fruits, and bread. He was about to address Malinche by her name; but the girl kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, and it struck him that she did not wish her late visit to him to be known, as it might bring upon her a scolding from the old woman; whose voice he had more than once heard, on the previous afternoon, raised in shrill anger.
He therefore began afresh, first naming himself, and then touching Malinche's companion.
She did not at first understand, but Malinche said something in a low tone, and she then replied, "Nishka."
Roger repeated the name, and then touched Malinche, who at once gave her name.
He next pointed to the contents of the bowl, and the girls replied together, "Coca."
Roger repeated the word several times, and then, in the same manner, learned the native names of the cakes and fruit.
The old woman, hearing the voices, now came into the room. The girls spoke eagerly to her in their language, and when Roger touched her, she at once answered, "Quizmoa."
"That is pretty well, for a first lesson," Roger said. "Now I will eat my breakfast. I suppose that, if anyone in this place did not have a stare at me yesterday, they will be coming today."
Visitors, indeed, soon began to arrive; and it was more than a week before the curiosity of the crowd was at all satisfied. But even this did not bring what Roger considered a terrible annoyance to an end; for the news had spread rapidly, through all the country round, of the strange white being who had come to Tabasco, and parties of visitors kept on arriving, some of them from a great distance.
Roger, however, had made a good use of his tongue. He kept one or other of the girls always near him, and by touching the articles brought to him as presents, the garments and arms of his visitors, and the various objects in his room, he soon learned their names.
Almost every day the chief sent for him, for a talk; but as neither party could understand the other, these conversations generally ended by a sudden loss of temper, on the part of the cazique, at being unable to obtain the information he required as to the origin of his visitor, and the object with which he had come to his country.
Having acquired a large number of the names of objects, Roger, for a time, came to a standstill. Then it struck him that by listening to what the old woman said to the girls, and by watching what they did, he might make a step farther.
In this way he soon learned "bring me," "fetch me," and other verbs. When the old woman was present, the two girls were silent and shy; but as Quizmoa was fond of gossiping, and so was greatly in request among the neighbors, who desired to learn something of the habits of the white man, she was often out; and the girls were then ready to talk as much as Roger wished. For a time it seemed to him that he was making no progress whatever with the language and, at the end of the first month, began almost to despair of ever being able to converse in it; although by this time he had learned the name of almost every object. Then he found that, perhaps as much from their gestures as from their words, he began to understand the girls; and in another month was able to make himself understood, in turn. After this his progress was extremely rapid.
As soon as Malinche learned, from him, that he belonged to a great nation of white people, living far away across the sea, and that he had been wrecked in a ship upon the coast, she warned him against telling these things to the chief.
"They hold you in high honor," she said, "because they think that you have come down from the sky, and might do them grievous harm if they displeased you. But if they knew that you were a man like themselves, cast by chance upon their shores, they would perhaps make you a slave, or might put you to death in one of the temples. Therefore, on this subject be always silent. When the chief asks you questions, shake your head, and say that these things cannot be spoken of, and that it might bring down the anger of the gods, were their secret told."
The advice seemed good to Roger, and he followed it. Now that he was able to talk in his language, the chief soon plied him with questions as to whence he had come. But Roger always shook his head when the subject was approached, and said: "It is not good to talk of these things. Evil might come to the land. I am here, and that is enough. I will tell you many things about other people, who live far over the sea, and who are very great and powerful. When they go out they sit upon great animals, which carry them easily, at a speed much exceeding that at which a man can run. They live in lofty dwellings and, when they go to war, are covered with an armor, made of a metal so strong that arrows would not pierce it nor swords cut it. They traverse the sea in floating castles; and when they want to convey their thought to others, many days' journey away, they make marks upon a thin white stuff they call paper, and send it by a messenger, and these marks tell him who receives it what the writer's thoughts are, just the same as if he had spoken in their ears."
The hearing of such wonders as these reconciled the chief to his disappointment at not learning more about his visitor. The knife Roger had given him was a never-ending source of wonder to the cazique, and those whom he permitted to inspect it. Gold and silver and copper they knew, and also tin, which they used for hardening the copper. But this new metal was altogether strange to them. It enormously exceeded copper in strength and hardness. Its edge did not, like that of their own weapons, blunt with usage, and they could well understand that, if armor could be formed of it, it would be altogether unpierceable.
For a time Roger was every day at the chief's house, and his narration afforded astonishment and wonder to the audiences that gathered round him. At the same time, Roger perceived that a difference of opinion existed, among the principal men, concerning him. Some believed, as at first, in his supernatural origin, and credited all that he told them; while others were of opinion that he was a man, like themselves, only of different color, and that these tales were simply inventions, designed to add to his importance.
The fact that month after month passed without his exhibiting any supernatural powers, or reproducing, in any way, the wonders of which he told them, added gradually to the strength of the party hostile to him. Why should this god, if he were a god, have come to dwell at Tabasco only to learn the language, and behave as an ordinary man? He had been kindly received--why did he not bestow benefits in return? Were the fields more fruitful? Had any extraordinary prosperity fallen upon the people since his arrival among them? Had he taught them any of the arts of those people of whom he spoke? The gods always bestowed benefits upon those among whom they dwelt. He did not ever pay reverence to their gods, nor had he entered a temple to worship or sacrifice. How then could he be a god?
Gradually this opinion gained strength, and Roger perceived that his popularity was decreasing. No longer were daily presents sent in by the inhabitants of Tabasco. No longer did they prostrate themselves, when he walked in the streets. His stories were received with open expressions of doubt and derision, and he saw that, ere long, some great change would take place in his condition.
One morning, to his surprise, the chief with six men entered his chamber, and ordered him to come out and accompany them, instantly. Much surprised at the order, Roger at once went out.
"You must go away for a time," the cazique said; "but you shall return, before long."
His guard conducted him eight or ten miles into the interior, and established him in a hut, situated at a distance from any other dwelling. Three of them, by turns, kept watch night and day over him, refusing to answer any questions as to the cause of this singular conduct. Beyond being kept a prisoner he had nothing to complain of, being well fed and treated with all courtesy.
A fortnight later he was taken back to Tabasco, as suddenly as he had left it. When he arrived there, he learned the reason of his being carried inland. A great floating castle, filled with white men, had arrived at the mouth of the river; and had opened a trade with the natives, exchanging glass beads, looking glasses, and trinkets, for gold ornaments and articles of Mexican workmanship. Their leader, he heard, was called Grijalva. The cazique had been afraid that, if Roger had heard that other white men were in the river, he would make an effort to join them; or if they heard that a man of their color was in the town, they would insist upon his being handed over to them. He had therefore hurried him away inland, and had issued the most stringent orders that none should, by signs or otherwise, acquaint the newcomers that a white man was in the town. A guard had been placed over the house in which Roger had dwelt, and none of those within it had been allowed to go out, while the strangers were in the river.
These had sailed away, the day before Roger was fetched back. He was not altogether disappointed at having missed the strangers, who were of course Spaniards; for he wanted, if possible, to see something more of this beautiful country before he left; and he was, moreover, more than doubtful as to the reception he should meet with at the Spaniards' hands, when, by his ignorance of their language, they discovered that he was a foreign intruder, in what they considered their territory.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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6
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: Anahuac.
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It was now six months since Roger was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco, he spoke the native language with perfect fluency, and had learned all that was known as to the nations round Tabasco. Malinche was his chief source of information. She herself did not belong to the country, but, as she told Roger, to a tribe that had been conquered by far mightier people, called Aztecs, who lived farther to the west.
It was from them, she said, that the people of Tabasco obtained their gold; which was there very plentiful, and was thought but little of, as being useful only for ornaments, drinking cups, and similar purposes. They dwelt in a city named Mexico, standing in the midst of a lake. There were kindred peoples near them, and the country generally was called Anahuac. All were subject to the Aztecs, and their armies had gradually conquered all the surrounding peoples.
They possessed great temples, compared to which those of Tabasco were as nothing. Their gods were very powerful, and all prisoners taken in war were sacrificed to them. They had rich mantles and clothing, and the Tabascans were but savages, in comparison.
Being asked how it was that she, who was a native of such a nation, came to be a slave among the Tabascans, she replied with tears that she had been sold. Her father had been a rich and powerful cazique, of Painalla, on the southeastern borders of the Mexican kingdom. He had died when she was very young, and her mother had married again, and had a son. One night her mother had handed her over to some traders, by whom she had been carried away. She had learned, from their conversation, that her mother desired her son to inherit all her possessions; and that she had, therefore, sold her to these traders. The daughter of one of her slaves had died that evening, and she intended to give out that Malinche was dead, and to celebrate her funeral in the usual way. The traders had brought her to Tabasco, and sold her to the cazique of that town.
"But this mother of yours must be an infamous woman, Malinche," Roger said indignantly, "thus to sell away her own daughter to be a slave!"
"Girls are not much good," Malinche said, sadly. "They cannot fight, and they cannot govern a people. It was natural that my mother should prefer her son to me, and should wish to see him a cazique, when he grew up."
Roger refused to see the matter in that light, at all, and was indignant at Malinche for the forbearance that she showed, in speaking of the author of her misfortunes.
This conversation had taken place at the time when Roger had first learned to converse in the Tabascan language. The girl's statements, with regard to the wealth of the country to which she belonged, had fired his imagination. This was doubtless the country concerning which rumors were current among the Spanish islands, and with whom it had been the purpose of his father's expedition to open trade.
Malinche told him that they spoke a language quite different from that of the Tabascans. There were many dialects among the various peoples under the sway of the Aztecs; but all could understand each other, as they had all come down, from the far north, to settle in the country.
Thinking the matter over he determined, if possible, that he would someday make his way over to Malinche's country, which seemed so far in advance of the Tabascans.
"The Spaniards will go there some day," he said; "and although they would kill me without hesitation, if they found an Englishman there before them; I might yet, in some way or other, manage to achieve my escape."
Accordingly, he asked Malinche to teach him her language; and at the end of the six months he could converse with her in it, almost as readily as he could in Tabascan; for in learning it he had none of the initial difficulties he had at first encountered, in acquiring Tabascan--the latter language serving as a medium.
The year which had elapsed, since the Swan sailed from Plymouth, had effected great alteration in Roger's figure. He had grown several inches, and had widened out greatly; and was fulfilling the promise of his earlier figure, by growing into an immensely large and powerful man. He was, even now, half a head taller than the very tallest of the natives of Tabasco; and in point of strength, was still more their superior. Thus, although the belief in his supernatural origin was rapidly dying out, a certain respect for his size and strength prevented any of his opponents from any open exhibition of hostility. The fact, too, of his perfect fearlessness of demeanor added to this effect. Roger carried himself well, and as, with head erect, he strolled through the streets of Tabasco, with a step that contrasted strongly with the light and nimble one of the slenderly built natives, men made way for him; while his sunny hair, which fell in short waves back from his forehead, his fearless gray eyes, and the pleasant expression of his mouth, rendered him a source of admiration to the women; who, with scarce an exception, still believed firmly that he was no ordinary human being.
One day, when Roger was dressing in the morning, he heard excited talking in the street, and the sound of hurrying feet.
"What has happened this morning, Malinche?" he called out.
"The merchants have come," she said. "The merchants from my country."
As Roger had heard, from her, that a trade was carried on by Mexico with the surrounding countries, by merchants who traveled in parties, with strong bodies of armed men, and that they had been at Tabasco but a few days only before he had first arrived there, and might be expected again in about a year, he was not surprised at the news. He had, indeed, been looking forward to this visit; for he felt that his position was getting more and more unsafe, and that the cazique would not be able, much longer, to support him against the hostility of the majority of the men of importance in the town. What he had heard from Malinche had greatly raised his curiosity with regard to her country, and his longing to see these people, whom she described as invincible in war, and so infinitely superior in civilization to the Tabascans.
He had closely inquired, from Malinche, whether she thought he would be well received, did he reach her country. Malinche's opinion was not encouraging.
"I think," she said, "that they would sacrifice you in the temples. All our gods love sacrifices, and every year countless persons are offered up to them."
"It is a horrible custom, Malinche."
Malinche did not seem to be impressed, as he expected.
"Why?" she asked. "They would be killed in battle, were they not kept for sacrifice. The Aztecs never kill if they can help it, but take prisoners, so that death comes to them in one way instead of another; and it is better to be killed in the service of the gods, than to fall uselessly in battle."
"I don't think so at all, Malinche. In battle one's blood's up, and one scarcely feels pain; and if one is killed one is killed, and there is an end of it. That is quite different to being put to death in cold blood. And do they sacrifice women, as well as men?"
"Sometimes, but not so many," she said; "and in dry weather they offer up children to Talloc, the god of rain."
"But they cannot capture them in war," Roger said, horrified.
"No, they are sold by their parents, who have large families, and can do without one or two."
To Malinche, brought up in the hideous religion of the Mexicans, these things appeared as a matter of course; and she could scarcely understand the horror, and disgust, which her description of the sacrifices to her gods caused him.
"And you think that they would sacrifice me, Malinche?"
"I cannot say," she replied. "The priests are masters in these things. If they said sacrifice, they would sacrifice you; but if they thought you a god, you would be treated with great honor. How can I tell? I think that they would pay you greater honor than here, but of course I cannot tell."
"Why should they pay me greater honor, Malinche?"
"Because one of our gods was white. Quetzalcoatl was the kindest of our gods. He taught us the use of metals, instructed us how to till the ground, and laid down all the rules for good government. When he lived in Anahuac everyone was happy. Every head of corn was so big that a man could scarce carry one. The earth was full of flowers and fruit. Cotton grew of many colors, so that there was no need to dye it, and the very birds sang more sweetly than they have ever sung since. Ah! If Quetzalcoatl had always stopped with us, we should have been happy, indeed!"
"But why did he not, Malinche?"
Malinche shook her head.
"He was a god, but not one of the greatest, and one of these grew angry with him--I cannot tell who. Perhaps it was the god of war, who saw that the Anahuans were so happy that they no longer went out to conquer other people, and to provide sacrifices for him. Perhaps they were jealous, because the people worshiped Quetzalcoatl more than them. Anyhow, they were angry with him, and he was obliged to leave us.
"He came down to the sea, and took leave of the people, promising that he or his descendants would some day revisit them. Then he took his seat in his boat, which was formed of serpent skins, and sailed away, and has never been seen again. But we all know that one day, if he does not come himself, white people will come from the sea to us.
"I think, Roger, that you are one of the descendants of Quetzalcoatl; and I think my countrymen would think so, too, and would hold you in great honor, if the priests, who are very powerful, did not turn them against you."
"What was this god like?" asked Roger.
"He was tall in stature, and he had a white skin; and his hair was not like yours, for it was long and dark, and flowed over his shoulders, and he had a great beard. But as you are tall and white, you are like him; and as he went towards the rising sun, it may be that, afterwards, his hair changed from black to a color like yours, which seems to me brown when you are sitting here, but gold when the sun falls on it."
"So it seems, Malinche, that I may be sacrificed, or I may be taken for a god! I would much rather that they would be content to treat me for what I am--a man like themselves, only of a different race and color."
Roger had many conversations of this kind with Malinche, and as he felt his position becoming daily more precarious among the Tabascans, had come to believe that he should have at least as good a chance, among the Aztecs, as where he was.
In return for all the girl told him about her country, he told her much about his own. He explained to her that there were many peoples among the whites, as among the reds; and they fought against each other in battle, having weapons which made a noise like thunder, and killed at a great distance. He told her how one of these peoples, named Spaniards, had conquered many islands not very far distant from Tabasco; and how assuredly they would come, in time, and try to conquer this country, too. He explained that, while the nation to which he belonged was, at present, at peace with the Spaniards, they were not allowed to come into this part of the world; and that, had he and those who had sailed with him fallen into their hands, they would have been all put to death.
The news, then, that the Aztec traders had arrived was a matter of as much interest, to Roger, as to the people of the town. These looked forward to purchasing many things which they could not otherwise obtain; for the gold ornaments, the rich feather mantles, and most of the other articles of superior manufacture which Roger had seen, were not the work of the natives of Tabasco, but of their powerful neighbors.
The traders would stay, Malinche said, for four or five days, at least; and Roger, therefore, thought it better not to go out to see them, until he learned what were the cazique's views concerning him. He therefore remained quietly at home, all day.
Upon the following morning he received a summons from the cazique.
"White man," the chief said, "I have spoken to the Anahuac traders concerning you, and they have a great desire to see you. Therefore you will, this morning, accompany us to their camp."
An hour afterwards Roger started with the cazique, and a numerous body of the latter's counselors and attendants. The encampment of the Anahuans was a quarter of a mile from the town. In the center rose a large tent, the abode of the merchants; and around, ranged in regular order, were the rough huts erected by their escort.
These were assembled in military array. They were, like the Tabascan soldiers, clad in thick quilted doublets. Their spears were tipped with copper; or with obsidian, a stone resembling flint, of great hardness, and capable of taking a very sharp edge.
In front of the tent were several banners, embroidered in different devices in gold and feather work. Roger afterwards learned that merchants were held in far higher consideration in Anahuac than in Europe, that their business was considered as one of great honor, and that they were permitted to assume what may be called heraldic devices on their standards, to carry bright-feathered plumes, and to wear gold ornaments--such decorations being only allowed to warriors who had, by their deeds in battle, been admitted into an institution which closely resembled that of knighthood; all others dressing in plain white cloths, woven from thread obtained from the aloe. Even members of the royal family were not exempted from this law.
The whole trade of the country was in the hands of these merchants, who traded not only to its utmost borders, but with neighboring people. They were allowed to raise forces sufficient for their protection; they furnished the government with descriptions of the people they visited; and often afforded the State a pretext for wars and annexations, by getting up quarrels with the natives. They resembled, in fact, the East India Company during the last century, mingling in their persons the military and mercantile character.
In addition to their soldier escort, they took with them on their journeys a vast number of slaves. These carried the merchandise, made up into packets weighing about eighty pounds. Many of these slaves had been instructed in the arts of the Aztecs, and there were among them musicians, singers, dancers, and workers in metal and feather work; and these were sold, at high rates, to the people with whom they traded.
The merchants, who were attired in rich feather mantles, with plumes of bright feathers upon their heads, came to the entrance of their tent when the cazique, with his company, approached. After some talk between them and the chief, by means of an interpreter, Roger was brought forward from the rear of the company.
The merchants inspected him with grave curiosity. They turned and talked among themselves; then they invited the chief to enter their tent. He remained there for some time, and when he came out again returned to his companions and, ordering four of his soldiers to accompany him back to the town, left the rest of his party to traffic as they chose with the merchants.
He did not address Roger until they reached his house, and then bade him enter with him.
"White man," he said, "the Anahuan merchants wish to carry you away with them to their own country; and have offered, in exchange, sundry slaves and articles of merchandise. I would not have parted with you; and have told them, indeed, that you were no slave of mine, to sell as I chose, but a stranger who had come to visit me from I know not where; and have also told them that, if you go with them, it must be of your own free choice, for that misfortune might fall upon my people, did I treat you with aught but honor.
"It is, then, for you to decide. You know that I wish well to you, and hold you in great esteem, deeming that your visit here will give prosperity, as well as honor, to Tabasco. But there are those among my people who are foolish and headstrong, and who view your coming with suspicion. The priests, too, are unfavorably disposed towards you, and have long urged that you would make a most acceptable sacrifice to the gods. So far I have withstood them, but I am old and cannot look to live long, and after I have gone your enemies would assuredly have their way. Therefore I think it is for your good that you should go with these merchants."
The cazique was speaking the truth, but not the whole truth. The merchants had offered, in slaves and goods, an amount which had excited his cupidity; and he was, moreover, glad to be rid of the presence of one who was the cause of constant dispute and trouble in his councils. At the same time, he still believed in the supernatural powers of his visitor; and was afraid that, if the latter went against his will, he might invoke all sorts of ills and misfortunes upon Tabasco.
He was much relieved then, when Roger replied that he was willing to go with the merchants.
"I have seen," he said, "that my presence here is unwelcome to many, and that I was the cause of trouble. I know, too, cazique, that you have befriended me to the utmost, while many others have been against me. I am willing, then, to depart."
Great was the grief of Malinche when she learned, from Roger, that he was to go with the Anahuans.
"Could not my lord take me with him?" she asked presently, as her sobs lessened in violence.
"I shall be but a slave myself, Malinche."
"If you ask the cazique he will let me go with you. I am but of little value to him."
Roger did not answer for some minutes. He would have been glad, indeed, to have had Malinche--who had been his companion and friend, and whom he regarded almost as a sister--with him, but there were many things to be considered. He might be well received in this new country, but he might be sacrificed to these gods of theirs; and in that case Malinche might share his fate--as she said that even women were offered up. Even if well received, he might not be able to have Malinche with him.
Besides, of course he did not want her as an attendant, and in what other capacity could she go? If he got into trouble, and had to try to escape from their land, he might not be able to carry her off, too. If they were separated, what was to become of her? She could not go to the mother who had sold her as a slave. No; certainly, he decided, he must go without her.
"Malinche," he said, after a long silence, "it cannot be. There is no saying what my fate may be, among your people. I may be offered up to those terrible gods you told me of. I may be treated as a slave. There is no saying what might happen. At any rate, I shall be unable to afford you any protection. Were we separated, as it is almost certain we should be, where could you go, or what would become of you? Besides, how in any case could we keep together? I could not have you as a slave, even if I wanted to do so, in your own country; and how else could you go with me? If you like, I will ask the cazique for your freedom, so that you might travel back to your own country with the merchants."
The girl shook her head.
"I have no friends there, now," she said. "Where should I go?"
"That is just what I am saying, Malinche. There is nowhere for you to go except with me; and I do not see how you could go with me. If you do not like this, I will promise you that, if things turn out well with me in your country, I will send by the next merchants who come here, and buy you from the cazique, and find friends for you there, and place you with them."
"You would have wives there," the girl said passionately; "and you would never think any more of me."
Roger burst into a loud laugh.
"Why, Malinche, I am only a boy! I am not yet eighteen; and in my country we do not think of taking wives, until we are eight or ten years older than that. It is a serious thing with us, for each man has only one wife; and it behooves him, therefore, to be very careful in making his choice. I hope, long before it comes to my time for thinking of marriage, to be back in my own country and among my own people. If I were to marry here, how could I ever think of going away? I could not go and leave a wife behind me. I could not take her away with me, because she would never be happy among a strange people, any more than I should be happy if I lived here.
"No, no, Malinche, there is no fear of my marrying, any more than there is of my forgetting you. You can trust me. If I live, and do well in your country, I will send for you; and I will tell your people that you have been as a sister to me, and will see that this mother of yours does you justice, and that you shall come to your own again, and you shall marry some cazique of your own choice. If you do not hear from me, you will know that things have gone badly with me, and that either I have been sacrificed to your gods, or that I am held as a slave and have no power, whatever, to help you."
Malinche said no more. Her dark eyes were full of tears, but with the habit of submission natural to Mexican women, she simply took Roger's hand and placed it against her forehead.
"Malinche will wait," she said, and then hurried from the room.
Before leaving, Roger gave Malinche several of the handsomest of the bracelets and necklaces that had been bestowed on him, in the first flush of his popularity at Tabasco; and gave presents also to the old woman. The two girls wept bitterly when he said goodbye to them, and Roger, himself, had to fight hard to restrain his tears.
"It is as bad," he said to himself, "as it was saying goodbye to Dorothy and Agnes. Color does not matter much, after all. Malinche is just as good and kind as if she were white."
The cazique himself conducted Roger to the Anahuac encampment. He had, that morning, made him various presents of robes and mantles, for he was very desirous that his visitor should part in goodwill from him; and he again impressed upon him the fact that he only parted with him because he felt that he could not protect him from the ill will of some of his people.
The merchants made no secret of their satisfaction, as soon as they had handed to the cazique the goods and slaves they had agreed to give, in exchange for Roger. They had, like the cazique, pretended to be indifferent as to the bargain; and had haggled with him over the terms of the purchase. But both parties were equally desirous of concluding the agreement and, while the cazique considered that he was making an excellent bargain for the visitor who had voluntarily placed himself in his hands, the merchants were still more delighted.
In the first place, the Mexicans were, as Malinche had told Roger, looking for the arrival of Quetzalcoatl, or of a white descendant of his from the sea; and if Roger were to turn out to be the expected god, the honor which would fall upon them, as his producer, would be great, indeed. But even should this not prove so, they would gain great credit, to say nothing of profit, by bringing home so singular a being, who would either be received in high honor by the king, or would be one of the most acceptable sacrifices ever offered to the gods.
As soon, therefore, as the cazique had left, they addressed Roger in terms of high respect, and presented to him some of their most handsome feather robes, tiaras with plumes, ornaments, and arms.
To their stupefaction, Roger replied in their own language, and as they were in ignorance that the cazique possessed a countrywoman of their own, among his slaves, they regarded this as a miracle of the most singular kind, and as an indisputable proof of the supernatural nature of their visitant. It was true that he did not speak as a native, but Quetzalcoatl, himself, might well have forgotten somewhat of his own language, in his hundreds of years of absence from Mexico.
The large tent was at once placed at Roger's disposal, the merchants contenting themselves with a smaller one, raised beside it. A number of slaves were told off to attend upon him, and his meals were served with the greatest ceremony and deference.
That night, as Roger lay upon the soft pile of quilted rugs prepared for him, his mind was sorely troubled as to his position. Was he right in allowing them to deceive themselves into a belief that he was a supernatural being? Ought he not, rather, to tell them that all these gods they worshiped were false, and that there was but one true God--He who was worshiped by the White men?
Thinking it over in every way, he concluded at last that there was no necessity for him, at present, to undeceive the Anahuans. He would do no good by doing so, and would ensure his own destruction. He resolved however, that nothing should induce him to pay honor to their gods, or to take any part in their bloody sacrifices.
"They can kill me if they will," he said; "but I am not going to be false to my religion. If they should not kill me I may be able, in time, to persuade them that their gods are false; but for the present it would be madness to try to do so. From what Malinche said they are devoted to their religion, and the priests are all powerful. If I am to do any good, therefore, it must be done gradually.
"What should we think, at home, if an Indian were to arrive, and to try and teach us that our God was a false one? Why, he would be burnt at the stake, in no time. And one cannot expect that these Indians would be more patient, in such a matter, than we should. When the Spaniards come, they will doubtless overthrow their gods, and force them to be Christians, just as they have the peoples in the islands."
The next morning, early, the tents were pulled down, the slaves loaded up with what merchandise remained unsold, with the tents and provisions for the journey, and the caravan started for the west. A party of the soldiers marched first. Then came the merchants, with Roger and a small guard of armed men. They were followed by the slaves, and another body of troops brought up the rear.
For six days they passed through a country more or less cultivated, with villages scattered about. One of these was always chosen for their stopping place, and Roger admired the regularity and order with which the encampment was formed, and the good conduct observed in the dealings with the people.
Provisions were obtained by barter, and the inhabitants mingled fearlessly with the trading party. He remarked on this to the merchants, who replied that it was always their custom to keep on the most friendly terms with the people.
"Our caravans," they said, "visit all the countries round our own, and did one of them ill treat the natives, the others would suffer for it. Therefore, we are always particular to give them no cause for dissatisfaction. The empire is extensive, and many parts of it are but newly conquered; therefore we should be gravely blamed, were we to embroil ourselves with its neighbors, until the king desired to carry his arms in that direction.
"Sometimes we have trouble. We were with a party who, a few years back, were attacked of the people of Ayotlan. We saw that trouble was coming, and fortified our camp; and for four years carried on war with the town, and in the end captured it. But this was forced upon us, and we had the approval of the king. All those concerned in the struggle were permitted to have banners of their own, and military emblems."
"How did you supply yourselves with provisions all the time?"
"The country people were neutral. That was the advantage we had from having always treated them well, while the cazique of Ayotlan had been a tyrant, and had greatly oppressed them. So they brought in provisions to us for sale, and we had less difficulty, in that way, than the people of the town."
At last the villages of the Tabascans were left behind. For some days the caravans traveled through a very sparsely populated country, and then arrived at a large village, where the Anahuac language was spoken.
"We are now in the country of the king," the principal merchant said. "All over it you will find the same language spoken; for although there are many people who lived under their own chiefs, and many of whom have been but lately conquered, the language is similar, though spoken with differences, for all the tribes came down from the north and settled here."
"And who dwelt here before they came?"
"A people called the Toltecs. They were a great people, well instructed in agriculture, great workers in metals and builders of grand cities."
"And what became of them?"
"It is not known, but misfortunes came upon them, famine or disease, and it is said that they went away to the south. Then came a people called the Chichemecs, a barbarous people from the north, whom we found here when we came. Of us, the greatest tribe were the Aztecs, who settled on one side of the great lake and built a city there, called Tenochtitlan, or sometimes Mexico, from the great war god Mexitli.
"Another great tribe were the Tezcucans, to which we belong; and our capital is Tezcuco, on the eastern side of the same lake. Mexico and Tezcuco formed an alliance; and with us was Tlacopan, a smaller kingdom, hard by. It was agreed that in all wars, one-fifth of the spoil should go to the Tlacopans, and the rest be divided between the Aztecs and the Tezcucans. This alliance has remained unbroken, and together we have conquered all the countries round, and from sea to sea."
"What sea?" Roger interrupted.
"There is, on the west, another great sea like this on the east, which stretches away no man knows whither; and between these two seas all the peoples, save one, acknowledge the dominion of Mexico--for although we are in alliance, the Aztecs have of late years taken the lead, for they have had very great monarchs, and are more war loving than we of Tezcuco; and our kings, and those of Tlacopan, acknowledge the Aztecs to be the leading power, and give to their king the title of Emperor.
"We maintain our own laws and usages. Our king places the crown upon the head of each new monarch of Mexico, but we own him to be the chief of our Confederacy, and the more distant countries, that have but recently been conquered, have been assigned entirely to the Aztecs, although we have had our proper share in the slaves and spoil taken in the war."
"And what is the one state that has not been conquered by your Confederacy?"
"Tlascala. It lies high up among the mountains and, although but a small state, has maintained its independence, and has several times repulsed the attacks of our best soldiers."
Roger thought that Tlascala must be a sort of Mexican Switzerland.
"It is singular that a small state should have resisted so long," he said.
"They have not been very often attacked," the merchant replied. "There is little to be got from them but hard knocks. The country is not fertile, the cold is too great, and they have only the necessities of life. Except for slaves, and for sacrifice to the gods, there is nothing to be gained by their conquest."
"And you all worship the same gods?" Roger asked.
"Assuredly," he said, "although some are thought more highly of in one kingdom, some in another. Mexitli--or as he is generally called, Huitzilopotchli--is of course the greatest everywhere; but he is worshiped most of all by the Aztecs. Quetzalcoatl is also greatly worshiped."
As he spoke, the merchant glanced furtively up at Roger. The lad saw that this was a favorable opportunity for creating an impression. He smiled quietly.
"It is right that he should be," he said, "since he taught you all the good things you know; and was, like myself, white."
This proof of the great knowledge possessed by the being before him vastly impressed the Mexican. How could this strange being know the Mexican tongue, and be acquainted with its gods, unless he were one of them? It had pleased him to assume ignorance of other matters, but doubtless he was well aware of everything that had passed in the country since he left it. Henceforth the respect which he and his companions paid to Roger was redoubled.
As soon as they had reached the borders of Mexico, a swift runner had been dispatched to the nearest post with a message, to be sent forward to the King of Tezcuco, with the tidings of the arrival of a strange white being in the land; and asking for instructions as to what was to be done with him. In the meantime, the merchants told Roger that they wished him to abstain from going out into the various villages and towns at which they stopped.
"Until we know what are the king's wishes concerning you, it were better that you were not seen. In the first place, all this country by the coast is under the Aztec rule, and as soon as you were seen, messages would be sent forward to Mexico, and the Emperor might desire that so great a wonder should be sent direct to him; whereas, if our own King sends first for you, you would be his property as it were, and even Montezuma would not interfere.
"It will not be long before an answer arrives, for along all the roads there are post houses, two leagues apart from each other. At each of these couriers are stationed, men trained to run at great speed, and these carry the dispatches from post to post, at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour."
"But the messages must get changed, where they have to be given so often?"
"Not at all," he said. "The couriers know nothing of the dispatches they carry."
"Oh, they are written dispatches?" Roger said. "Then you possess the art of writing?"
"Writing, what is writing?" the merchant asked.
"Letters are inscribed on paper," Roger said, "so that the person receiving them at a distance understands exactly what the one who wrote wished to say."
The merchant shook his head.
"I know nothing of what you call letters," he said. "We draw pictures, on a fabric formed of prepared skins, or of a composition of silk and gum, but chiefly on a paper prepared from the leaves of the aloe. Besides the pictures there are marks, which are understood to represent certain things. These picture dispatches are made in the form of rolls, or books. I myself have a slave who is skilled in such work, and who has depicted you, and added all particulars, and the roll has been forwarded to Tezcuco."
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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7
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: A Wonderful Country.
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So anxious were the merchants to avoid arriving at any town of importance, where there would be an Aztec commander and garrison, until they received an answer from Tezcuco, that they traveled by very slow stages, camping in small villages where they could obtain water and supplies. Roger asked many questions of them as to the country, and learned that the hot and arid soil they were now crossing extended only about one-third of the distance to be traversed. Then that they would pass over a range of lofty mountains, offering great difficulties to travel, that the cold was extreme, and that snow lay almost continuously upon the highest summits. After crossing this range they would journey across a rich country, and descend at last into a most lovely and fertile valley, in which lay the lake, upon which the capitals of the two countries were situated.
The country they were now traversing varied considerably. In some places it consisted of parched and sandy plains, almost free of vegetation. In others, where the rains were less able to drain quickly away, were districts of extraordinary fertility. Here grew the cocoa, vanilla, indigo and aromatic shrubs innumerable, forming thick and tangled jungles, impervious to the foot of man. Flowers of gorgeous colors bordered these groves, and lofty trees of foliage, altogether strange to Roger, reared their heads above them.
The lad was delighted with the extraordinary richness of color, and the variety of the foliage, but he would have enjoyed it more had it not been for the intense heat of the sun, and the closeness of the air.
They crossed several large streams. They cut down the great rushes which bordered them and, tying these together in bundles, formed rafts, upon which four or five at a time were ferried over. Roger learned that the principal road from the coast ran from Cempoalla, a large town near the sea, but that this lay a long distance to the north, and that the route they were traveling ran nearly due west to Tepeaca, and thence northwest to Pueblo, after which the towns lay thickly, all the way to the lake. As far as Roger could learn the distance, from the coast which they had lately been following to Mexico, was by this route about three hundred miles.
On the fifth day after the messenger had been dispatched, a courier ran into the camp, just as the caravan was about to start, and handed to the chief merchant what looked to Roger like a portfolio. This, indeed, was something of its character. It consisted of two thin boards, within which was a sheet of paper. It contained a number of paintings and signs, of which Roger could make nothing, but the merchants informed him that it expressed the satisfaction of the King of Tezcuco, at the news that had been sent him of the arrival of a strange white personage in the land; that the priests would consult the auguries, and decide whether it boded well or ill for the country; and in the meantime that they were to journey on to Tepeaca, where they would be met by an envoy, charged to receive the white stranger and to conduct him to Tezcuco.
The merchants themselves were only able to gather the general contents of this picture dispatch, but the slave who had drawn the one sent forward interpreted every sign and color; for Roger found that colors, as well as signs, had their meaning. He learned from the merchants that this picture writing was a science in itself, and that it needed years of instruction and labor to acquire it. In every town and village there were certain persons skilled in the art, so that messages of all kinds could be sent to the capital, and orders and instructions received. The national archives were entirely written in this manner, and in the temples were immense stores of these documents, affording information of every event of interest, however minute, in the history of the people.
The caravan now pushed on rapidly. After traveling, as Roger calculated, nearly a hundred miles from the sea, the ground began to rise rapidly, and in a single day the change in temperature was very marked. Roger felt the sense of listlessness and oppression, which had weighed upon him while crossing the low country, pass away as if by magic; and it seemed to him that he was again breathing the air of Devonshire.
The vegetation had greatly changed. The vanilla, cocoa, and indigo had disappeared, and trees totally different from those of the plain met his eye.
Another day's march, and they were four thousand feet above the sea. Here everything was green and bright, showing that rain constantly fell. Groves of a tree of rich foliage, which was, the merchant told him, the liquid amber tree, grew near the road; while on both sides lofty mountains rose precipitously to a great height, their summits being clothed in snow. Some of these, he heard, had in times past burnt with terrible fires, and vast quantities of melted rock flowed over the country, carrying destruction in its course. In many cases the road was a mere track winding along the side of these mountains, with precipices yawning below.
A day's march through the mountains brought them into a lofty plateau, some seven thousand feet above the sea. Here were wide-spreading forests of trees, which Roger recognized as large oaks and cypress. Around the villages were clearings, and whereas in the plains below maize was chiefly cultivated, the largest proportion of the fields, here, were devoted to plantations of the aloe or maguey. Here, even at midday, the temperature was not too hot to be pleasant; while at night the cold was great, and Roger was glad to pile the thick quilted rugs over him.
After traversing this plateau for some distance, they came upon another range of hills, far loftier than those they had before crossed, and vastly higher than anything Roger had ever before beheld in his travels. These mountains were, the merchant told him, the Cordilleras; they extended from unknown regions in the north through Anahuac to the south. The snow never melted upon the summits, and several of the highest of these were terrible volcanoes, whose eruptions were dreaded by the whole nation.
"Sometimes before these commenced," the merchant said, "the earth trembled and shook, so that men could scarce stand upon it: Houses were thrown down, and terrible destruction of life and property took place. Fortunately, these are rare occurrences; but several of them have taken place since the time when the Aztecs first established themselves here."
The passage through this range was attended with real hardship. Roger, accustomed to our English winter only in the mild climate of South Devonshire, felt the cold to be severe; but the natives suffered far more, and the merchants continued their march right through one night, for the labor of carrying their burdens kept the blood of the thinly clad slaves in motion; whereas, if they had halted, many would have succumbed to the cold. At last the path began to descend, and soon after daybreak, as the road crossed a shoulder of the hill, they saw a plateau similar to that they had left, stretching out below them as far as the eye could reach.
Even at the height at which they were standing, Roger could see that it was densely populated. Villages were scattered thickly, and the forest was restricted to patches, here and there, the greater portion of the land being under cultivation.
Directly in front rose the lofty buildings and temples of a town of considerable size. Seen through the clear mountain air it seemed but three or four miles away, and Roger had difficulty in believing the merchants, when they assured him that it was fully twenty. This was Tepeaca.
The slaves, wearied as they were, quickened in their pace; and in two hours they emerged from the mountain gorges onto the temperate plateau. Here they halted for some hours near a post house, a courier being sent on to Tepeaca, to inform the king's envoys that they had arrived thus far; and to ask whether they should proceed at noon, when the slaves had rested, or make their entry into the town in the morning.
In a little over four hours the answer was received. The merchants were directed to wait where they were until three hours after noon, then to move forward until they arrived within eight miles of the town, and then to halt for the night, and to start again at sunrise next morning.
Roger was as glad as were the slaves that he had not another fifteen miles' march before him, for the journey had been a most fatiguing one. He thought that the absolute distance traversed did not exceed thirty miles, but owing to the difficulties of the road, and the care that had to be taken in traversing it at night, even with the assistance of the torches carried by the soldiers of the caravan, it had taken them twenty hours, including occasional halts, to perform the journey. An abundance of food was brought in by the neighboring villagers, and the merchants issued an extra supply of cocoa to the slaves; and when the march was resumed, late in the afternoon, the latter had completely recovered from their fatigue.
After a march of little more than two hours' duration, the caravan halted for the night, and resumed its journey at daybreak. The merchants had presented Roger with a mantle, more highly decorated than that which he had before worn, and with some rich plumes of feathers for his head; and seeing that they wished him to make as brave a show as possible, he put on some of the gold necklaces and bracelets he had received, at Tabasco.
The caravan was formed up in military order, the standards of the traders being displayed at the head of the column. The porters were placed four abreast, and the soldiers who marched on either side were ordered to see that they kept their ranks. The merchants had put on their handsomest mantles, and everything was done to show off the procession to the best.
As they approached Tepeaca the road was lined with people, the news of the approach of the wonderful white man having spread rapidly. As Roger passed they bowed to the ground, with the same respect that they paid to their own chiefs. He fully came up to their expectations, for not only was the whiteness of his skin and the color of his hair wonderful to them, but he stood many inches higher than the merchants who walked by his side; for Roger had now attained his full height--although but a few months past seventeen--and stood six feet two in the thin sandals that he wore. He was, as yet, far from the width that he would attain in another five or six years, but looked broad and massive as compared with the slight frames of the Mexicans.
When within a quarter of a mile of the gates of the town, a procession was seen approaching from it. At its head were two nobles, whose appearance far exceeded anything Roger had hitherto seen. They wore cuirasses formed of thin plates of gold, and over these mantles of gorgeous feather work. On the head of one was a helmet of wood, fashioned to represent the head of the puma, or Mexican lion. The other wore a helmet of silver, above which was a cluster of variegated feathers, sprinkled with precious stones. They wore heavy collars, bracelets, and earrings of gold and precious stones. Beside them were borne their banners, richly embroidered with gold and feather work, while behind them were a body of soldiers, in close vests of quilted cotton, and a train of slaves.
The merchants bowed low as the nobles approached. The latter paused for a moment as they came near to Roger, and then saluted him by touching the ground with their hands, and then carrying them to their heads. Roger did the same. In the meantime several attendants round the nobles were filling the air with incense, from censers which they bore.
"The King of Tezcuco has sent us to welcome you," one of the nobles said. "He longs to see the white stranger who has arrived in our land."
"I have heard of the greatness of the king," Roger replied, "and desire to look upon him. I have come from a great distance beyond the sea, to see for myself the greatness of the Anahuac kingdoms, and am glad to meet two of its great nobles."
The Mexicans were not surprised at Roger understanding their language and replying in it, for the dispatches had already acquainted the king with the fact that the white stranger could converse in their language.
There had been an animated debate, at the royal council at Tezcuco, when the news of his coming had arrived. Some were of opinion that it was an evil omen, for there was a prophecy existing among them that white strangers would come from beyond the seas, and overthrow the Aztec power; but upon the other hand, it was pointed out that this could only refer to a large body of men, and that as this stranger came alone, it was far more probable that he was either Quetzalcoatl himself, or one of his descendants, and that he came in a spirit of goodwill. If he were a man, one man could do nothing to shake the Aztec power. If he were a god, he could work evil to the whole country, whether he remained on the seashore or advanced to the capital; and it was far better to propitiate him with gifts, than to anger him with opposition.
Some slaves next brought forward some delicately wrought mats, and laid upon them the various articles they had brought. A shield, helmet, and a cuirass, all with embossed plates and ornaments of gold; a collar and bracelets of the same metal; sandals and fans; crests of variegated feathers, intermingled with gold and silk thread, sprinkled with pearls and precious stones; imitations of birds and animals in cast and wrought gold and silver, of exquisite workmanship; curtains, coverlets, and robes of cotton as fine as silk, of rich and various colors, interwoven with feather work so finely wrought that it resembled the delicacy of painting.
Roger was astonished at the richness and variety of these goods, and as he viewed them muttered to himself: "If I were but back in Plymouth with these, my Cousin Mercy and Dorothy and Agnes would open their eyes, indeed. I wish to goodness I had something to send back to the king. One of the cannon from the Swan, with a supply of ammunition and bullets, would have astonished him. However, as it is, I suppose that I must make the best of it."
When the goods were all displayed, Roger addressed the ambassadors, saying how great was the pleasure that the gifts afforded him. Not, he said, because he desired gold or jewels or articles of luxury, but because they were proofs of the goodwill of the king, and of the mightiness of his power.
"Will you convey my earnest thanks to him for these presents, and say that I regret deeply that I have come to his country empty handed, and have naught to send him in return; but that there are reasons why I could not bring aught with me, from the place far across the seas from which I came? There are many strange and wonderful things there. People move across the water in floating castles as big as your temples. They ride on great animals, which carry them with the speed of the wind. When they fight they use weapons which twenty men could not lift, which make a noise like thunder, and destroy their foes at two or three miles' distance. But I was not permitted to bring, at present, any of these wonders from the far-distant country. I wanted to come myself, and I have come; but as I have said, I had to come alone and empty handed. In time these wonderful things will be brought to your shores, but the time has not come yet."
The nobles listened with respectful attention. It seemed to them probable enough that a supernatural personage might convoy himself vast distances through the air, but that he could not burden himself with mortal appliances--if, indeed, such things were the work of merely mortal men.
"I could bring with me," Roger went on, "but one small specimen of the metal most used in that distant country."
Then the merchants advanced, and handed to Roger his knife, which they had purchased of the cazique of Tabasco in exchange for two accomplished slaves, and he presented it to the nobles.
"You see it is a metal of extraordinary hardness. Swords made of it will cut through a man's head to the chin. No arrows or spears will penetrate armor made of it. It can be beaten into all shapes, when hot. The weapons of which I spoke to you are constructed of it, and it is now used in the arts, in manufacture, and for domestic purposes, as well as for armor and weapons. So common is it that, as you see, the handle is made only of rough horn; which shows you that it is such a one as is commonly used, and is prized but little. It may be that such a metal is found in your country, though as yet you know it not; for in its natural state it is but a stone like others, although greater in weight; and if so, I may be permitted, some day, to instruct you in the methods of working it."
The nobles were greatly impressed with this speech. Quetzalcoatl had instructed the Mexicans in all the arts that they possessed, and this hint that their visitor might bestow upon them the knowledge of this new, and most valuable metal, seemed a fresh proof of his relationship to the White God, whose return had been so long expected and longed for.
They now begged him to enter the city, and a party of their slaves took up the gifts, and ranged themselves behind him. The Mexican troops fell in on either side, and prevented the crowd from pressing in upon them; and then, accompanied by the two nobles, and followed immediately by the merchants, Roger headed the procession as it again set forward.
As he entered the town, Roger saw that it was vastly in advance of Tabasco. The walls were of stone, strong and massive. The streets were wide and straight, bordered by well-built houses with flat roofs, upon which great numbers of people were assembled. These uttered cries of welcome as he came along, and threw down wreaths of flowers.
The Aztec governor, with a strong guard of soldiers, met them in a large square in the center of the town; and in the name of the Emperor Montezuma welcomed Roger, and presented him with gifts of even greater value than those sent by the King of Tezcuco, saying that his master hoped that he would pay a visit to his capital, as well as to that of the neighboring sovereign.
Roger replied suitably, and the procession then took its way to a large house that had been assigned to the visitor. Here a banquet was served in grand style, the governor and the two ambassadors, alone, taking their seats with him. The meal was served up on golden dishes, and pulque was handed round, in goblets of the same metal, by white-robed slaves.
Strains of music rose in the air, the performers being stationed in an adjoining apartment. The music was unlike anything Roger had ever before heard, and seemed to him to be of a plaintive nature.
With the exception of the fruits, the dishes served were all strange to him, and he was unable even to guess at their nature. Among them was a large bird, which Roger judged to be either a swan or a peacock; but which he was informed was a turkey, a bird common in the country, but of which he had never before heard.
There were other sorts of game, and all these were prepared with delicate sauces and seasonings. There were a large number of various confections and pastry, and a great variety of vegetables and fruits. Under the dishes of meats, small fires of charcoal were burning in order to keep them hot. The table was ornamented with vases of silver and gold, of delicate workmanship, and the confections were eaten with spoons made of gold or silver, or of tortoise shell. Several varieties of pulque, flavored with sweets and acids, were handed, as also chocolate flavored with vanilla and other spices.
When the viands were removed, slaves brought round, as they had done before the meal began, basins of water and soft cotton towels; and each of those present washed his hands and face. Then a surprise even greater than those which had preceded it awaited Roger. Two attendants brought round waiters, upon one of which was placed a pile of a substance which looked to Roger as if it were the leaves of some vegetable, broken into small pieces, and also a gold box containing a brown dust. On the other tray were placed a variety of instruments, of whose use Roger was ignorant. They were small tubes, inserted into bowls of gold or silver; and in addition to these were some things that looked like yellowish-brown sticks, of two or three inches in length, with tubes into which they fitted.
These trays were first handed to Roger, who, after examining their contents, turned to the noble next to him and said: "I know not what these may be, or how they are used. They are not in use in the country from which I come."
The noble looked surprised.
"It is yetl," he said, "and is good for soothing the nerves and preparing for the siesta, besides being very pleasant. All these are made from the same leaf," and he touched the short sticks, the heap of broken leaves, and the powder.
"This powder we apply to the nose," and he and his companions took a pinch from the box, and thrust it into their nostrils.
Roger followed their example, but a pungent odor brought the tears into his eyes, and in another moment he was seized with a violent fit of sneezing, from which he was some time before he recovered.
"You will get over this, in time," the noble said gravely, but with a slight smile. "This effect is only experienced when the herb is first used."
Much as Roger had been astonished by the effect of the powder, he was still more surprised at the use to which the broken leaf and the little sticks were put. Two of the Mexicans filled the small bowls with the leaf, while the other took one of the tubes holding a small stick. An attendant then approached with a small piece of wood, on fire. This was applied first to the stick, and then to the small bowls; and, to Roger's stupefaction, great clouds of smoke at once issued from the mouths of the three Mexicans. Had it not been that, from the tranquil expression of their faces, he saw that this was the regular course of events, he would have thought that some accident had occurred, and that the Mexicans had, in some mysterious way, taken fire in the interior.
He remained silent for a minute or two, and then asked: "Do you like it? Is it really pleasant to you?"
"It is, indeed," the governor said. "This herb is largely used. Its effect is to produce a feeling of repose and contentment. You will get to like it, in time."
"Possibly I may," Roger replied; "although at present, that hardly seems probable."
The music now struck up a more lively air. Presently a number of young men and women, who had been feasting in another apartment, came in and performed several graceful dances, to the accompaniment of the music; singing, as they did so, a sort of chant, which reminded Roger of those he had so often heard in the churches at home.
When all was over the ambassadors withdrew, saying that, doubtless, their guests would wish to enjoy a siesta during the heat of the day. Some slaves led the way into another apartment, in which was a couch heaped with soft rugs, and here Roger threw himself down.
"Was there ever an English boy in so strange a strait as mine?" he said to himself. "What an extraordinary people! Gold seems as plentiful with them as common pottery with us; and as to the magnificence of their dresses, I verily believe that the court of King Harry would make but a poor show beside them. If I could land at Plymouth tomorrow, with all the presents I have received today, I should be a rich man. Here they are valueless.
"I received presents at first at Tabasco, and yet, had I remained there a month longer, I should have been sacrificed to those cruel gods of theirs. These presents mean really nothing to me. They seem magnificent, but gold is so common, here, that it is no more than if, at home, one presented a man with necklaces of glass, and some woolen cloths. It is a mark of civility, but that is all.
"When I get there, the priest will be inquiring into my religion, and when they see that I pay no honor to their gods, they will be sure to raise a cry against me.
"Malinche was telling me that, every year, some special prisoner is chosen for sacrifice, and is treated with great honor, and has every luxury until the time comes, and then they put him to death. Brutes! I have no doubt they will consider that, from my very rarity, I shall make a specially acceptable sacrifice.
"I wish I was back on the Hoe again. Cousin Diggory, and Mistress Mercy, and the girls little think into what a horrible fix I have fallen--alone among a strange people, who breathe smoke out of their mouths, and load me with rich presents one day, and may kill me on the next. Well, when the day comes I shall try not to disgrace my country, and religion, and color; but it is very hard, being all alone here. If I had but two or three of my companions of the Swan with me, I should feel that I could face whatever came; but it is hard to stand quite alone, and I am only a boy.
"Still, they shall find that I can strike a rough blow or two, before I die. They shall not find that it is a lamb that they are going to sacrifice, but a Devonshire lad, with such bone and muscle as one gets from a life on the sea.
"It is strange that these people should be so cruel. They seem so mild and so gentle, and yet Malinche says they sacrifice tens of thousands of captives, every year, to their gods. They never kill in battle if they can avoid it, striving only to take their enemies prisoners, for this horrible service.
"I must try, if I can, to make friends among them. The old cazique of Tabasco stood by me well, and it may be that here I may find some like him; but it will need a powerful protector, indeed, to stand against the priests, who, Malinche says, are far more powerful here than in Tabasco."
Three hours later an attendant came in, and said that the governor invited his guest to walk with him through the town, and survey the temples and other edifices.
"Now for it," Roger said, clenching his fist. "Now, Roger Hawkshaw, you have got to show yourself a true man, whatever comes of it."
He fastened the sword, which was one of the weapons with which he had been presented, to his girdle; and then went out into the great hall, from which all the other apartments opened. The governor and the two nobles from Tezcuco were awaiting him.
Upon sallying out, Roger found that the streets were as crowded as when he entered. He was received with a long quavering cry of welcome by the women, and by a deeper hum of applause by the men. All bent to the ground before him and his companions, before whom a party of soldiers moved to clear the way.
"Now, we will go first to the Great Temple," the governor said. "It is but small in comparison with those of the great cities of the valley, but it is a very holy shrine; and numbers come, from all the cities round, to pay their devotion there on the days of festival. There are forty temples in the town, on all of which fire burns night and day; but this is the largest and holiest of them."
After passing through several streets, Roger saw a great hill rising in front of him. Whether it was the work of man, or had a natural hill for its foundation, he knew not. It was four sided and pyramidal in form. There were terraces rising, one above the other, supported by stone walls. Steps at the angles led from one terrace to another, but these were so placed that anyone mounting had to pass right along the terrace round the pyramid, before he arrived at the steps leading to that above. The top of the pyramid seemed to be cut off, leaving an area of, as far as he could judge, some fifty feet square. Smoke ascended from the summit, where, as Malinche had told him, fire always burns before the altar in its center.
Just before reaching the foot of the pyramid, the governor pointed to a building of considerable size.
"Here you will see," he said, leading Roger towards a great gateway, "how well the god has been honored."
As he neared the gateway, Roger saw that the building was well-nigh filled with an immense pile, carefully built up, of what at first appeared to him cannon balls, only of larger size than any he had seen piled in the batteries of Plymouth, and of a white color. Then the thought struck him they were great turnips, or some such root, which might be held sacred to the god. But as he entered the building the truth flashed across him--the great pile was composed entirely of human skulls.
Roger had made up his mind that, although he would not give way in the slightest in the matter of his faith, he would yet abstain from shocking the religious feeling of the natives. After the first involuntary start at the discovery, he silenced his feelings, and asked how many skulls there were in the heap. He could not, however, understand the reply, as he had not yet mastered the Aztec method of enumeration, which was a very complicated one.
Roger walked along one side of the pile, counted the number of skulls in a line, and the number of rows, and then tried to reckon how many skulls there were. Roger was not quick at figures, although his father had tried hard to teach him to calculate rapidly, as it was necessary for one who traded, and bought and sold goods of all descriptions, to be able to keep his own figures; or he would otherwise be forced always to carry a supercargo, as was indeed the custom in almost all trading ships, for there were few masters who could read and write, far less keep accounts. However, as he found there were a hundred skulls in each line, and ten rows, and as the heap was nearly square, it was not a difficult task to arrive at the conclusion that there must be a hundred thousand skulls in the pile.
This seemed to him beyond belief, and yet he could arrive at no other conclusion. If a hundred thousand victims had been offered up, in one temple of this comparatively small city, what must be the total of men killed throughout the country? The pile had, no doubt, been a long time in growing, perhaps a hundred years; but even then it would give a thousand victims, yearly, in this one temple.
Although it seemed well-nigh impossible to Roger, it was yet by no means excessive, for according to the accounts of all historians, Mexican and Spanish, the number of victims slain, annually, on the altars of Mexico amounted to from twenty-five to fifty thousand.
"The god has good reason to be pleased?" the Aztec ambassador, who was watching Roger's face closely, remarked.
"If he is fond of blood and sacrifices, he should indeed be pleased," Roger said quietly; "but all gods do not love slaughter. Quetzalcoatl, your god of the air, he who loved men and taught them what they know--such a god would abhor sacrifices of blood. Offerings of fruit and flowers, which he taught men to grow, of the arts in which he instructed them, would be vastly more pleasing to him than human victims."
Roger spoke in a tone of authority, as if he were sure of what he stated.
"When the white god left your shores, there were no human sacrifices offered to the gods"--this fact Roger had learned from Malinche, who had told him that the custom had been introduced in comparatively late years. She said ten generations, which he supposed would mean about two hundred years--"and such a custom would be abhorrent to him."
The Aztec governor looked very grave. It was to the god of war that these sacrifices were offered, but the idea that the kindly white god, who stood next to him in public estimation, might not only object to be so worshiped himself, but might object altogether to human sacrifices being offered, was unpleasant to him; and yet this white stranger clearly spoke as if he were acquainted with the mind of Quetzalcoatl.
The Tezcucan envoys, on the other hand, looked pleased. Tezcuco had maintained for a long time a milder form of worship. Her people were more gentle than the Aztecs, and had only reluctantly, and in part, adopted the terrible rites of their formidable neighbors.
"Will you ascend the temple?" the governor asked.
"No," Roger said firmly. "I say not aught against the god of battles. Let those who will make offerings to him. The God of the Air," and Roger raised his hand towards the sky, "loves flowers and fruit and peace and goodwill. When He came down to earth He preached peace, and would have had all men as brothers; and I, who follow Him, will not bow down at altars where human beings have been sacrificed."
The Mexican naturally thought that Roger was speaking of Quetzalcoatl, and this strange knowledge he possessed of the god, and his ways and wishes, struck him with deep awe. Without making any further attempt to induce him to ascend the teocalli, which was the name they gave to their pyramidal temples, the governor led the way back to the palace.
The next morning Roger started with the Tezcucan envoys on his journey. They informed him on the way that the Aztec governor had, on the previous evening, dispatched an officer of high rank to Mexico, to give the emperor the full details of the conversation and sayings of the strange visitor; for the dispatches were available only for sending news of facts and occurrences, but could not be used as mediums for conveying thought.
"Montezuma is mild and gentle in his disposition, and quite unlike his two predecessors, who were mighty warriors; and doubtless, in his heart, he will welcome the words you said yesterday concerning Quetzalcoatl. But he is swayed wholly by the priests, and such sentiments will not be agreeable to them, for sacrifices are forever going on at the teocalli. At the dedication of the great temple for Huitzilopotchli, just thirty years ago, seventy thousand captives were put to death."
"They must have been miserable creatures," Roger said indignantly, "to have submitted tamely to such a fate. They might, at least, have rushed upon their guards, however numerous, and died fighting."
Roger said little more during that day's journey. The admiration he had at first felt, for the arts and civilization of these people, had been succeeded by a feeling of abhorrence. He had heard, from Malinche, that all victims sacrificed to the gods were afterwards cooked and eaten; and although he had scarcely believed the girl, in spite of her solemn assurances, he could now, after seeing the vast pile of human skulls, quite believe that it was true.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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8
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: At Tezcuco.
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In each city through which they passed, and several of these were of vastly greater size and importance than Tepeaca, Roger was received with the same welcome and rejoicings that had greeted him there. The houses were decorated with flowers and garlands, dense crowds lined the streets, processions came out to meet him; banquets were given in his honor, and everything seemed gay and joyous. But Roger was low and depressed. To him the whole thing appeared a mockery. He seemed to see blood everywhere, and the fact that, as he learned from the casual remark of one of the envoys, numbers of victims were offered upon the altars on the evening before his arrival at each town, in order to please the gods and bring about favorable omens, added to his depression; and he thought that he had better, a thousand times, have been drowned with his father and friends, than be the cause of men being thus put to death.
It was true that, as he was told, these captives were reserved for this purpose, and had they not been slain on that night might have been sacrificed on the next; but this was a small consolation. It seemed to him that above the joyful cries of greeting he could hear the screams of agony of the victims, and to such a pitch was he wrought up that, had he seen any whom he could have recognized as priests, he would have fallen upon them with his sword.
But the priests held aloof from the gatherings. They knew not, as yet, how their chiefs would regard this stranger, and it was not their policy to join in welcoming one who might, afterwards, be denounced and sacrificed as an enemy of their religion; nor, upon the other hand, would they commit themselves to hostility to one who might be held to be a god.
From the summits of the teocallis they looked down upon the great gatherings; angry that instead of, as usual, figuring in the chief places in the procession, they were forced to stand aloof. As in Egypt, the Aztec priests embraced within their order all the science and learning of the nation. They were skilled in the sciences of astrology and divination, and were divided into numerous ranks and classes. Those best instructed in music took the management of the choirs, others arranged the festivals conformably to the calendar, some superintended the education of the young of both sexes, others had charge of the hieroglyphic paintings and records and of the oral traditions, while the rites of sacrifice were practiced by the chief dignitaries of the order. They were each devoted to the service of some particular deity, and had quarters provided within the spacious precincts of his temple.
Here a certain number were always on duty, and men living there practiced the stern severity of conventual discipline. Thrice during the day, and once at night, they were called to prayers. They mortified the flesh by fasting and cruel penance, drawing blood from their bodies by flagellation or by piercing themselves with the thorns of the aloe. When their turn of duty was over, they resided with their wives and families outside the temples.
The great cities were divided into districts, placed under the charge of a sort of parochial clergy. These administered the rites of baptism, confession, and absolution, each of which strongly resembled that of the Christian religion. In baptism the lips and bosom of the infant were sprinkled with water, and the Lord was implored to permit the holy drops to wash away the sin that was given to it, before the foundation of the world, so that the child might be born anew. The secrets of confession were held inviolable, and penances were laid upon the penitents. There was one peculiarity in the Aztec ceremony of confession--namely, that the repetition of an offense, once atoned for, was deemed inexpiable--and confession was therefore made but once in a man's life, and generally deferred until a late period of it.
One of the most important duties of the priesthood was that of education, to which certain buildings were appropriated, within the enclosure of the principal temple of each city. Here the youth of both sexes, of the middle and higher classes, were placed when very young; the girls being entrusted to the care of priestesses, for women exercised all sacerdotal functions except those of sacrifice. In these institutions the boys were drilled in monastic discipline. They decorated the shrines of the gods with flowers, fed the sacred fires, and took part in the religious chants and festivals. Those in the higher schools were initiated in the traditionary law, the mysteries of hieroglyphics, the principles of government, and in astronomical and natural science. The girls were instructed in all feminine employments, especially in weaving and embroidery. The discipline, both in male and female schools, was stern and rigid.
The temples were supported by the revenue from lands bestowed upon them by successive princes. These were managed by the priests, who were considered as excellent masters, treating their tenants with liberality and indulgence. Besides this they were entitled to the first fruits of all produce, and were constantly receiving rich offerings from the pious. The surplus, beyond what was required for the support of the priests, was distributed in alms among the poor, charity being strongly prescribed by the moral code of the nation.
Thus the Aztec religion was a strange mixture of good and evil. The moral discipline enforced by it was excellent. Many of its precepts resembled very closely those of Christianity, and yet the whole was contaminated by the wholesale sacrifices. It is supposed that this dual religion was the result of the mixture of two peoples, the mild and gentle tenets of the Toltecs being adopted by the fierce Aztec invaders, who added to them their own superstitious and bloody rites.
All this, however, was unknown to Roger at the time. He saw the dark side of their religion, only, and was ignorant that there underlay it a system which, in point of morality, love of order and method, and a broad charity, was in no way inferior to that practiced among Christian nations.
For some reason, of which Roger was ignorant--but which was, doubtless, in order to avoid the delays occasioned by stoppages at large towns, and to push on the faster towards the capital, where the king and his counselors were impatient to behold the white stranger--a detour was made. The towns of Puebla and Cholula were avoided, and the party pushed on rapidly across the plateau land they were now ascending, where the air was again keen and piercing. The road passed between two of the highest mountains in the North American continent--the great volcano Popocatepetl, meaning "the hill that smokes," and Iztaccihuatl, or "the white woman," so called from the bright robe of snow which extended far down its sides. The lower part of these mountains was covered with dense forests, above which rock, lava, and ashes extended to the summit of the crater of the volcano.
At night the party sheltered in one of the stone buildings, erected by government at intervals along the road, for the accommodation of travelers and couriers. Pushing on the next morning, they came upon a view which caused an exclamation of surprise, and delight, to burst from Roger. At their feet lay the valley of Mexico, with its lakes glistening in the sunshine, its cultivated plains, and numerous cities and villages. Stretching away, from the point at which he was standing, were forests of oak, sycamore, and cedar; beyond, fields of yellow maize and aloe, intermingled with orchards and bright patches of many colors. These were flowers, which were grown on a very large scale, as they were used in vast quantities in the religious festivals, and almost universally worn by the women.
In the center of the valley lay the great lakes, their borders thickly studded with towns and hamlets. Rising from an island, in the center of the largest of these, was the city of Mexico; its great buildings and lofty teocallis being seen clearly through the dry atmosphere. The envoys first pointed out the capital to Roger, and then another great city, some distance to the right, as being Tezcuco. Beyond the lakes, a barrier of dark hills rose, forming a suitable background to the lovely prospect.
Upon the road, Roger learned much from the Tezcucan envoys of the character of the king of their country, and of the Emperor Montezuma.
The grandfather of the present king had been the greatest and most powerful of the Tezcucan princes. In his youth he had gone through a series of strange adventures. Tezcuco had been captured, the people subjugated by the Tepanecs, and the king killed when the young prince was but fifteen years old. The boy himself was thrown into a dungeon, but escaped and fled to Mexico; and on the intercession of the king of that city was allowed to return, and to live for eight years, quietly, in a palace belonging to the family. When the Tepanec usurper died, his son Maxtla, who succeeded him, determined to kill the rightful heir to the throne; but being warned in time Nezahualcoyotl escaped, and for a long time wandered about the country, hotly pursued by his enemies; who were many times on the edge of capturing him, but he was always sheltered by the peasantry.
At last the neighboring powers, fearing the aggression of the Tepanecs, united and routed them. Maxtla was put to death, and the lawful prince placed upon the throne. He showed great magnanimity, granting a general amnesty, and then set about to remodel the government.
Three departments were formed: the Council of War, the Council of Finance, and the Council of Justice; and in each of these bodies, a certain number of citizens were allowed to have seats with the nobles and state officers. The highest body was composed of fourteen members, all belonging to the highest orders of nobles. This was called the Council of State, which aided the king in the dispatch of business, and advised him in all matters of importance. Its members had seats provided for them at the royal table.
Lastly, there was a tribunal known as the Council of Music. This was composed of the best instructed persons in the country, without regard of rank, and was devoted to the encouragement of all branches of science and art. All works on these subjects had to be submitted to them, before they could be made public. They had the supervision of all the productions of art, and the more delicate fabrics. They decided on the qualifications of the teachers of the various branches of science, inquired into the proper performance of their duties, and instituted examinations of the pupils. The Council gave prizes for historical composition, and poems treating of moral or traditional topics. It was, in fact, at once a board of education, and a council of science and art. The kings of the three allied states had seats upon it, and deliberated with the other members on the adjudication of the prizes.
Thus Tezcuco became the center of the education, science, and art of Anahuac, and was at this time the head of the three allied kingdoms. Nezahualcoyotl greatly encouraged agriculture, as well as all the productive arts. The royal palace and the edifices of the nobles were magnificent buildings, and were upon an enormous scale, the Spaniards acknowledging that they surpassed any buildings in their own country.
Not satisfied with receiving the reports of his numerous officers, the monarch went frequently in disguise among his people, listening to their complaints, and severely punishing wrongdoers. Being filled with deep religious feeling, he openly confessed his faith in a God far greater than the idols of wood and stone worshiped by his subjects, and built a great temple which he dedicated to the Unknown God.
After fifty years' reign this great monarch died, and was succeeded by his son Nezahualpilli, who resembled his father in his tastes, encouraging learning, especially astronomical studies, and building magnificent public edifices. He was severe in his morals, and stern in the execution of justice. In his youth he had been devoted to war, and had extended the dominion of Tezcuco; but he afterwards became indolent, and spent much of his time in retirement.
His Mexican rival took advantage of this, for as the rule of Tezcuco became relaxed distant provinces revolted, the discipline of the army became shaken, and Montezuma, partly by force, partly by fraud, possessed himself of a considerable portion of its dominions, and assumed the title, hitherto held by the Tezcucan princes, of Emperor.
These misfortunes pressed heavily on the spirits of the king, and their effect was increased by certain gloomy prognostics of a great calamity, which was shortly to overwhelm the country. His health rapidly gave way. He had died but two years before, and had been succeeded by his son Cacama, the present king, a young prince who was two-and-twenty years old when he ascended the throne, after a sanguinary war with an ambitious younger brother. In Tezcuco, as in Mexico, the office of king was elective and not hereditary. It was, indeed, confined to the royal family; but the elective council, composed of the nobles and of the kings of the other two great confederate monarchies, selected the member of that family whom they considered best qualified to rule.
Roger was greatly impressed with these accounts of the government of this strange country. It appeared to him that art and learning were there held of much higher account than they were in England; and it seemed more strange to him than ever, that a people so enlightened could be guilty of such wholesale human sacrifices as those of which he had heard, and had indeed seen proof; still more that they could absolutely feast upon the flesh of these victims of their cruel superstitions.
Descending into the valley the party avoided, as before, the numerous cities in the plain. The Tezcucans told him that they did so simply because they were anxious to arrive as soon as possible at the capital; but as Roger learned from them that the sway of Montezuma was paramount in this part of the valley, he thought it probable that they feared the Aztecs might take him from their hands, and send him direct to the emperor.
After a long march across a richly cultivated country, they approached the town of Tezcuco just as evening was closing in. A messenger had gone on ahead, to announce the exact hour at which they would arrive; and a party of soldiers were stationed a short distance outside the town, to escort them through the city to the royal palace. They formed up on either side of the party when they arrived and, without a pause, the caravan kept on its way.
Roger had been astonished at the magnificence of the houses of the wealthy, scattered for a long distance round the city, and at the extraordinary beauty of the gardens with their shady groves, their bright flowers, their fish ponds and fountains; but the splendor of the buildings of the capital surpassed anything he had before beheld. Not even in Genoa or Cadiz were there such stately buildings, while those of London were insignificant in comparison. The crowd in the streets were quiet and orderly and, although they looked with curiosity and interest on the white stranger, of whose coming they had heard, evinced none of the enthusiasm with which he had been greeted at Tepeaca. This was natural enough. The inhabitants of a capital, being accustomed to splendid fetes and festivals, are less easily moved than those of a small provincial town by any unaccustomed events, and are more restrained in the expression of their feelings.
The dresses of the people were greatly superior to those he had seen hitherto. They wore over their shoulders a cloak, made of cottons of different degrees of fineness, according to the condition of the wearer. These and the ample sashes worn round the loins were wrought in rich and elegant figures, and edged with a deep fringe, or tassels.
The women went about as freely as the men. Instead of the cloaks, they wore mantles of fur or gorgeous feather work. Beneath these were several skirts or petticoats of different lengths, with highly ornamented borders. Sometimes loose flowing robes were worn over these, reaching to the ankles--those of the upper classes being of very fine textures, and prettily embroidered. Some of the women wore veils made of fine thread of the aloe, or that spun from the hair of rabbits and other animals. Others had their faces entirely exposed, their dark tresses falling luxuriantly ever their shoulders. These, Roger learned afterwards, were Aztecs, the rest of the women of Anahuac mostly wearing the veil; which was, however, extremely thin, and scarcely concealed the features.
The guards ahead with difficulty cleared the way through the crowd, until they at last arrived at the king's palace, a building of extraordinary splendor. A number of nobles, in gorgeous attire, received the party at the entrance; and passing along a stately corridor, they entered a vast hall. A cornice of carved stonework covered with thin plates of gold ran round the walls, and from this dropped hangings of the most delicately embroidered stuffs. The roof was of carved cedar, the floor a mosaic of stone of different colors, so delicately fitted together that they seemed one.
At the farther end of the hall, upon a raised dais, was a throne. Upon this the young king was sitting, while a number of his counselors and nobles, together with several princesses and ladies of the court, were gathered around him.
When Roger approached, he bowed low, saluting in Mexican fashion. The king rose as he approached, looking with lively curiosity and interest at the strange visitor, of whom he had already received so many reports.
Roger, on his part, regarded the king with no less interest. He saw before him a young man of three or four and twenty, with a bright intelligent face. His figure showed signs of considerable strength as well as activity, and there was a certain martial air in his carriage that spoke of the soldier rather than of the king. The nobles had endeavored to impress upon Roger the necessity for him to salute the king, by prostrating himself on the ground as they themselves did. But Roger had refused to comply with their request.
"King Hal, himself, would not expect me to go before him like a worm, if he gave me audience," he said to himself; "and I will not demean myself, as an Englishman, to bow as a slave before any other monarch. Besides, to do so would be to acknowledge that I was his humble subject, and would at once show that I have no pretension, whatever, to be the superior creature they seem to consider me. I will salute him as his nobles saluted me--paying due deference to his rank, and no more."
The king himself did not seem displeased at Roger's breach of the usual etiquette. He looked with admiration at the tall figure of this strange white man, and at the frank and honest expression of his pleasant face, his blue eyes, and sunny hair.
"Whoever he may be, he comes not as an enemy," he said in a low voice to his sister, who was standing next to him. "There is neither deceit nor treachery in that face."
Then he said aloud to Roger: "You are welcome, white stranger. We rejoice to see you in our courts. We have heard wonderful stories concerning you, and about the people in the distant lands from which you come; and shall gladly hear them from your lips, for we are told that you speak our tongue."
"I thank you, King Cacama, and I am glad, indeed, that it is my good fortune to behold so great and magnificent a king. I have come, as you have heard, from a far country, towards the rising sun; so far that it takes many months to traverse the sea which divides it from you; but had the distance been far greater than it is, I should have been more than repaid for the journey by the sight of you, and of this great city over which you rule."
"And is it true that your people move about the sea in floating castles, and that they fight with weapons that make a noise like thunder, and can batter down walls at a distance of two miles?"
"They can kill men at more than that distance, Sire, but for battering down walls they are used at shorter distances. The ships are, as you say, floating castles, and will carry hundreds of men, with provisions and stores for many months, besides merchandise and goods. These castles are armed with weapons such as you speak of, some of them carrying twenty or more; besides which each man carries a weapon of the same kind, but small and light in make, so that it can be carried on the shoulders. These weapons also make a great noise, though not comparable with that of the large pieces, which are called cannon."
"And they have animals on which they sit, and which carry them at a speed far greater than that at which a man can run?"
"That is so, Sire."
"Of what color are they, and of what form?"
"They are all colors: some are black, and some white, others brown, or gray, or roan, or bay."
This answer seemed to surprise the king more than any other he had heard. All the beasts and birds with which he was acquainted were of the particular color which appertained to their species, and that the animals of any one kind should thus differ in so extraordinary degree from each other struck him as remarkable, indeed.
Roger had always been fond of sketching, and had often whiled away dull hours on board ship with pencil and paintbrush; and his cousins at home had quite a collection of sketches that he made for them in, foreign parts. He now said: "If your Majesty will order that gentleman, who is at present taking my likeness, to hand me a sheet of paper and his brushes, I will endeavor to draw for your Majesty an outline of the animal I speak of, and which we call a horse."
At the king's order the scribe at once handed the necessary materials to Roger, who in three or four minutes dashed off a spirited sketch of a horse, with a rider upon his back. The king was greatly struck with the representation. The Aztecs possessed the art of copying objects with a fair amount of accuracy, but the figures were stiff and wooden, without the slightest life or animation. To the king, then, this little sketch appeared almost supernatural. Here was before him an animal which looked alive, as if already in movement. He passed it to those next to him, and continued the conversation.
"And the men fight on the backs of those animals?"
"The nobles and a certain portion of the troops fight on horseback, the rest of the army on foot."
"And are not these animals frightened at the terrible noises made by the weapons you speak of?"
"They speedily become accustomed to them, Your Majesty, just as men do; and will carry their rider into the midst of the enemy, however great the noise. Some other time I will draw for your Majesty a representation of one of our knights, or captains, charging in full armor; which is, as you have perhaps heard, made of a metal that is not known here."
"And these weapons that you speak of are made of the same metal?"
"They are mostly made of that metal, Sire, though sometimes they are made of a metal which we call brass, which is a compound of copper, and of another metal called tin, which adds greatly to its strength and hardness."
"But how do they work? What machinery can be used to hurl a missile at so vast a distance?"
"There is no machinery, Sire. The weapon is a hollow tube of vast strength, closed at one end, with only a small hole left there by which fire can be applied. A black powder, composed of various substances, is placed in the tube and pressed up to the end, a wad of cotton or other material being forced down upon it. A large ball made of this metal, which is called iron, and almost the same diameter as the tube, is pushed down upon the wad; and the weapon is pointed at the enemy, or at the wall to be knocked down. Then fire is applied to the small hole, the powder at once explodes with a noise like thunder, and the ball is sent through the air with so great a speed that the eye cannot follow its flight, and all that it strikes goes down before it."
"Even one of these captains on his horse?" the king asked.
"Fifty of them, Sire, were they ranged up in line, one behind the other."
"Will you be able to teach us to make such weapons?"
"Your Majesty, I have had a share in the using of these weapons, but not in the making of them; and they require great skill in their manufacture. I know not whether iron stone exists in this country, and were it found it would require a long experiment and great knowledge to manufacture a cannon from it. As to the powder, it is composed of three ingredients--one is charcoal, which can be obtained wherever trees grow; another is called by us saltpeter; and the third, sulphur; but I cannot say whether either is found in this land. Nor, your Majesty, do I think that such knowledge, could I impart it, would be a blessing to the land; on the contrary, the battles would be far more terrible and bloody than they now are. Vast numbers would be slain, and valor and bravery would avail but little, against these terrible missiles."
"No," the king said, thoughtfully: "you would take few prisoners, if you fought with such weapons as these. You take some prisoners, I suppose?"
"Yes, your Majesty; we always take as prisoners those who ask for mercy."
"And what do you do with them?"
"We treat them honorably and well, as is befitting men who have fought bravely. We exchange them for men of our own side who have been taken prisoners by the enemy, or if they are knights or nobles they pay a ransom according to their rank to their captor, and so return home."
"That is good," the young king said, with animation; "though it differs altogether from our usages; but then, how are their altars of the gods to be served?"
"I believe," Roger said, "that your Majesty's grandfather erected a temple here to the Unknown God. It is the Unknown God--unknown to you, but known to us--that the white peoples across the sea worship. He is a good and gentle and loving God, and would abhor sacrifices of blood."
The king did not reply for a minute. The introduction of human sacrifices was a comparatively recent innovation in Tezcuco, and although the Aztecs had, lately, almost forced their own hideous rites upon their neighbors, there were many who were still, at heart, opposed to them. He turned the subject by saying: "There will be much for you to tell me, when we have leisure. At present the banquet waits."
The eighteen months that had elapsed, since the wreck of the Swan, had prepared Roger for taking part in such scenes as those in which he was, at present, placed. From living so long among natives, and in native costume, he had acquired something of their manner; which, unless under strong excitement, was quiet and dignified. He had done this the more because, whenever he went out, all eyes had been upon him, and he had felt that it was necessary, so far as he could, to support the mysterious reputation he possessed. He had lost, alike, the sailor walk and carriage, the careless gaiety of a boy, and the roughness of one brought up to life at sea. He himself was only half conscious of this transformation, but to one who had seen him last when he sailed from Plymouth, it would have appeared absolutely marvelous. Undoubtedly it impressed both the king and his nobles most favorably; and as the party followed the king and Roger to the banqueting hall, there was a chorus of approval of the manners, bearing, and appearance of the white stranger.
The banquet was similar, but on a vastly greater scale, to that of which Roger had partaken at Tepeaca. Mexico contained, within comparatively narrow limits, extreme diversities of climate; and by means of the swift couriers, the kings and nobles could place upon their tables the tropical fruits and vegetables from the zone of the sea, the temperate fruits from the lofty plateau land, and the products of the rich and highly cultivated valley of the capital.
The twenty counselors sat down at table with the king. Other tables were spread at which the principal nobles feasted, while the king's wife and sister and other ladies dined in the same hall, but had tables apart. The king abstained from asking questions of Roger about his country, during the meal, but conversed with him concerning his journey, and his impressions of the country; and inquired particularly whether he was perfectly satisfied with the treatment he had received from the merchants. Roger assured him that nobody could have been kinder or more courteous than they had been, and that he hoped his Majesty would express his satisfaction at their conduct.
"That has already been done," the king said. "The reports of my envoys were sufficient for that. They have been raised in rank, have received permission to carry specially decorated banners, with other privileges and immunities."
After dinner was over, the king, without waiting as usual for the smoking and entertainments of musicians, dancers, and acrobats, rose, saying to Roger: "I am too anxious to talk with you to take pleasure in these amusements. Come with me now."
He led the way to the entrance to the private apartments. These were enclosed by magnificent hangings, which were drawn aside by two attendants as he approached them. The walls were here entirely hidden by hangings, and the floor covered with a thick carpeting of richly-dyed cotton stuff. The air was heavy with odors of perfumes.
The king led the way to an apartment of considerable size, although small in comparison to the two great halls they had left. Couches of quilted mats, covered with silken embroidery, extended round the room; and a general air of comfort, as well as luxury, pervaded it.
From the open windows, a view extended over a lovely garden below, and then across the lake to the walls and temples of Mexico, shining in the moonlight and dotted with innumerable spots of fire on the summits of the teocallis. The room itself was lighted with open lamps, in which burned cotton wicks embedded in wax.
Cacama clapped his hands, and a young noble in attendance entered. The king bade him summon six of his counselors, and tell the queen and the princess that he awaited them.
In a short time these entered. The pomp and ceremony of royalty were, to a considerable extent, laid aside in Tezcuco in the interior of the palace--the custom there differing much from that which prevailed at the court of Montezuma, where the emperor never relaxed, in the slightest, in exacting the lowliest and most profound homage from all who approached him.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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9
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: Life In A Palace.
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"Now," the young king exclaimed joyously, as soon as the party he had invited had assembled, and the silk hangings at the entrance of the door had been closed: "Now we can talk at our ease. In the first place, what can I call you?"
"My name is Roger Hawkshaw, your Majesty."
The king repeated the name.
"It is two words," Roger said. "With us, people have two names--the one which is common to all the family, the other which is given particularly to each person. The name of my family is Hawkshaw, my own name is Roger. Your Majesty can call me by either one, or by both."
Long names were common in Mexico, and Roger Hawkshaw seemed by no means long to the king.
"Roger Hawkshaw shall be your name in public," he said. "It has a strange grand sound, and will impress the people; but I will call you Roger. This is my queen and first wife, Maclutha. This is my sister, Amenche. These are two of my oldest and ablest counselors--both are great nobles, and have led the armies of my father to victory. These four young men are, as you see, my friends--they are the sons of four of my chief nobles, and have been brought up with me since we were children. Now, tell us more about yourself and your people."
The whole party took their seats upon the couches, half sitting, half reclining. Attendants brought in cocoa of many different flavors, confections, and tobacco. Roger took the cocoa, but refused the tobacco.
"We do not know this herb in our country," he said.
"That is a grave misfortune for you," the king remarked. "It is known and used by all peoples that we know of, here. It was used by the people we found here, when we came from the far north, and all the tribes there used it also.
"First, tell me what induced you to make this long journey across the sea."
Roger had been expecting this question, and as he had already determined that he would, in all matters, adhere to the truth, he did not hesitate in his reply.
"Your Majesty will understand that all the white peoples who dwell on the borders of the sea journey much in ships, which is the name we give to the floating castles. We do trade with many peoples. For example there is, far to the south of us, a great land wholly inhabited by people who are quite black."
A general exclamation of astonishment broke from the party.
"They must be frightful!" the young queen exclaimed.
"They are very ugly," Roger said, "with very wide mouths and very thick lips, and flat noses; and instead of having long soft hair, they have only a short, curly sort of black wool on the top of their heads."
"Have you seen them yourself?" asked Cacama, rather gravely.
"I have seen some of them, Sire," Roger replied. "I was in a ship that was attacked by others, manned by a people who live on the northern coast of this land, and who are themselves not black but yellow; and they had with them several of these people of whom I speak, who were frightful in their ugliness; but who, to do them justice, fought bravely, though we managed at last to beat them off.
"I pray your Majesty not to doubt any facts that I may tell you, for in my country it is considered disgraceful to lie; and however extraordinary some of the things I may say may appear to you, I can assure you that they will all be absolutely true. They may seem to you hard to believe, but you must remember that things which are strange to us always seem wonderful. My own countrymen, for example, would find it hard to believe that there could be a people who took delight in drawing in the smoke of a burning vegetable, and puffing it out again."
"I will not doubt what you say, in future," Cacama said. "Now, continue what you were telling us."
"The white people are divided into nations, as are your people on this side of the water. Some, however, are much more powerful than others. While in times of peace all the ports of different countries are open to the ships of the others, there are two countries that claim the right over great seas, although as yet untraveled and unknown."
"But how can they claim such a right as that?" one of the two chief counselors asked.
"Partly by the right that they have been the first to try to make discoveries in those seas; secondly because one of these countries is the strongest, at the present time; and thirdly, because they have been confirmed in their claim by the pope, who is the chief priest of the religion that is held in common among all white people. To the Spaniards was assigned that vast space of water lying towards the setting sun."
"You do not belong to that nation?"
"No. My country is called England. It is a great island divided into two kingdoms, of which ours is the larger."
"Are your people great fighters?"
"Yes. We have fought many obstinate wars with the nation lying on the mainland opposite to us, and our men have beaten theirs when they have outnumbered us many-fold; but at present we are at peace. We found that, while we could beat them in battle, we could not continue to hold a country that lay separated from us by the sea."
"And you are friends with the Spaniards also?"
"Yes. We have never warred with Spain, and our king has as his wife a princess of that country. Trading at Spanish ports, we learned that there was a rumor among the Spaniards that, far to the west, lay a great people possessing vast stores of gold, and riches of all kinds; and so my father, who was the captain of one of these floating castles, determined to sail across the sea and, in despite of the Spaniards and their rules, endeavor to perform the adventure of discovering, if possible, this great nation."
"What would have happened if the Spaniards had met you, as you passed through their waters?"
"Had they succeeded in taking our ship, they would have killed us without mercy; but we had a strong crew, and would have matched ourselves, willingly enough, against any Spanish ship, however big, that interfered with us."
"And what became of your ship?"
"She struck during a gale on the coast of Tabasco, and was dashed to pieces. My father and all on board were drowned. But God protected me, and I was thrown ashore unhurt; it being doubtless His intention that I should live to be the first white man to see your great country, and to bring to you the news of the white peoples beyond the sea."
"You know the story about our god, Quetzalcoatl," the king said, after a long pause. "We had news that you knew all about him. We believe that his descendants will return hither, to teach us many things."
"I am aware of it, Sire."
"But do you know, also, that we of Tezcuco have reason to view the arrival of the Whites with fear? My father, who was full of learning and wisdom, predicted when on his deathbed that a white people would shortly arrive, from the sea, and would overthrow the Anahuac kingdoms. It is strange, indeed, that within three years of his death you should appear."
"It is strange," Roger agreed. "Assuredly, your Majesty, your father's prophecy did not allude to my people. We are a comparatively small nation, and are not even masters of the whole of our island. We have not one ship to fifty that the Spaniards possess, and have no desire for foreign conquests. We are strong if attacked, and even Spain would find it a hard matter, did she endeavor to conquer us; but we should not dream of challenging the rights she exercises over the seas to the west of her. Moreover, our climate is a cold one, and we should not be able to support, with comfort, the heat of a country like this. It is not from our nation that danger can ever approach you."
"But from the Spaniards?" the king asked, gravely.
"I cannot think, Sire, that so great and powerful a nation as yours has reason to dread conquest by the Spaniards. But they are a mighty people. They have extended their rule over many peoples, on the other side of the water; and they have captured many islands which lie not so very far from your shores."
"How far away?" one of the old counselors asked.
"A vessel with a favoring wind would sail to your coast, thence, in twelve or fourteen days," Roger replied.
There was a general exclamation of surprise and uneasiness from Roger's hearers. Many questions were asked him, as to the number of men the Spaniards could put in the field. His answer somewhat reassured them.
"Perhaps two thousand would be the utmost they could send from these islands," he said; "though I know not the strength of their various garrisons. But from Spain they could, if they chose, send across the seas in their ships ten times as many."
"We could put over two hundred thousand in the field," the king said proudly.
Roger was silent.
"You do not think," the king went on after a pause, "that twenty thousand of these men are to be feared by a host like ours?"
"With equal arms and armor, no, your Majesty; but with the advantage of their weapons, the fact that they are clad in armor which your spears and arrows and knives would be powerless to pierce, and that many of them would be mounted soldiers, whose rush and impetus in battle it is nigh impossible--even for white infantry, who have no fear of the horses, and are themselves clad in armor--to withstand; and that they have, in addition these, terrible cannon of which I spoke to you, I think that should twenty thousand of the Spaniards land here, they would be irresistible.
"However, I do not think that there is any chance of such an army being brought against you. Rich and powerful as Spain is, the expense of preparing such an expedition, and the ships required to carry it, would be so vast that I do not think she would undertake it. Moreover, she is always so occupied with wars at home that she could not spare such a force for a distant expedition; and I do not, therefore, think you have any ground for alarm, in the present.
"I believe that in a very short time Spanish ships may arrive at your ports, and will open trade with your people. I wonder that they have not, long since, found their way here. Trade would be beneficent to both. They have many commodities that would be most useful to you. You have others that they would prize greatly."
"What are our products they would most value?" the king asked.
"First, and most of all, gold," Roger said. "It is with us the scarcest and most valuable of metals, and all things are valued by it. As with you bags of cocoa are your standard of value, so with them are pieces of gold. A wide estate is worth so much gold; a ship, or a horse, or a suit of armor, so many pieces of gold; and so through everything. All your delicate embroidery work would be valuable in their eyes, as being strange and different to anything we possess; while on their side they could provide you with silks, and satins, and velvets, and cloths, and other fabrics new to you; to say nothing of arms and iron work vastly superior to any you possess."
One of the old counselors whispered something in the king's ear, and the latter said to the queen: "Maclutha, I would talk these matters over with my counselors. I am sure that you and my sister are longing to hear, from Roger Hawkshaw, all about the ladies of his race, and their dresses and fashions. Take him, therefore, into your room, while we discuss this matter here."
The two ladies and Roger thereupon went into another apartment, similar in style to that which they had left. The conversation here took a light turn, unrestrained by the presence of the king and his counselors. They plied him with questions, which Roger answered to the best of his power. He was soon furnished with paper, pens, brushes, and paint; and he drew them several sketches, showing ladies in European fashions, which filled his companions with surprise. It seemed to them impossible that a woman could move with ease and comfort in so much clothing. Then he drew for them a noble in the court dress of the period, and also the figure of a knight in full armor.
The last astonished them most of all. How could a man move and breathe, thus enclosed in metal? Roger admitted that, in a hot climate like that of Mexico, the heat would be terrible. But he pointed out that men so clad were carried on horses, and had no occasion for movement; save of their arms, which, as there were joints in the armor at the shoulder, could be moved in any way with freedom.
"There cannot be much bravery required to fight, when protected in this way by metal," the queen said.
"Numbers are killed, nevertheless," Roger replied. "The armor, strong as it is, will not resist the missiles fired from cannon; and the helmets--that is, the part that protects the head--can be beaten in by blows with heavy maces. Moreover, when two parties similarly armed charge, the shock is so terrible that horses and riders are alike thrown to the ground, and when thrown down they may be trampled to death by the horses, or killed by footmen before they can recover their feet. Still, there are many who think that some day armor will be given up altogether; for the guns are being improved constantly, and when the balls sent by those carried by footmen are able to pierce any armor, it will no longer be any protection, whatever."
"And these ladies of yours," the Princess Amenche asked; "are they very pretty? Because these matters are more to our taste than these ugly arms."
"They differ much from each other, just as they do here," Roger said. "Some are homely, and others are pretty."
"Are their eyes always blue, and their hair of a bright color, like yours?"
"Oh no! There is a great difference. Some have hair almost as light as flax; some almost as dark as yours, but not quite so dark. Some have hair almost exactly the color of gold; some a red, like the fringe of your garments; then there are many shades of brown, between red and black. The eyes vary in the same way. People with light hair, and golden, and red, have either gray or blue eyes. Those with brown hair of different shades have brown eyes, sometimes light and sometimes dark brown."
"How strange it must be," the girl laughed, "to see people with hair of so many colors! And which do you like best, Roger Hawkshaw?"
"At the present moment, Princess, I cannot imagine any color more beautiful than a deep, glossy black."
The girl colored through her hazel skin.
"Ah, you know how to flatter in your country, also!"
Roger was about to reply, when a message was brought from the king, desiring them to return to the next room.
"We have been taking all these things that you have told us into grave consideration," the king said, when they were seated; "and have concluded that it will be for the best that this matter of these Spaniards should remain an absolute secret, and that no word shall be spoken to a single person, however dear, by any of those who have heard it. The country has long been in a disturbed state, and constant expeditions are necessary, for ourselves and for Mexico, to suppress risings, and put down outbreaks of discontent. Were the news to be whispered about that there is a strange, terrible white people within but a short distance of our shores, the result would be disastrous.
"Men's minds would become unsettled, their ordinary employment would be neglected, all sorts of dismal forebodings would seize them, the very worship of the gods might be affected; and instead of being able, should the time of danger ever come, to meet our invaders boldly and fearlessly, they would find us disorganized and disheartened, and our power of resistance greatly diminished.
"You, Roger Hawkshaw, have told us everything with frankness. We feel that every word you have spoken is true, and that you have a real feeling of friendliness towards us, and that your sympathies are with us, rather than with the people of this other white nation. But others would not see it so. Even as it is, there is sure to be a party against you. Were it known that a nation, possibly hostile, of your color were but a short distance away, nothing could save you. You would be sacrificed at once to the gods. Therefore as, for the sake of the nation, we have decided that what you have told us shall remain a profound secret to ourselves; so, for your own sake, we pray you henceforth to say nothing to any of what you have told us. Let men think what they like as to how you have reached our shores. Preserve a sort of mystery as to yourself. There is no reason why you should not speak, but even then guardedly, of the wonders of the land inhabited by white men many months' sail across the seas; but it were best that as little should be said as possible.
"Montezuma is sure to wish to see you, but before you visit him, we will again take counsel together."
"I will, to the best of my power, carry out your Majesty's orders," Roger said. "I fully recognize their wisdom. Indeed, neither at Tabasco nor upon the journey, either to the merchants or to your envoys, have I said a word respecting the Spaniards; but I thought that it was but right that you should know the truth of the matter, especially when you told me of the prediction of your royal father. In future, when I am asked questions, I can always fall back upon silence and reply, truly, 'I am forbidden to tell this.'"
"That will do excellently," the king said. "There is but one point connected with you now that puzzles us--a point which, before you came, confirmed us in the belief that there was something supernatural in your character: How is it that you have come to understand and speak our tongue?"
Roger smiled.
"To anyone else, your Majesty, I should have replied, 'I am forbidden to answer that question;' but I wish not to have any mystery with you. During the time I was at Tabasco I was waited upon by a Mexican slave girl, who taught me her tongue."
The king burst into a hearty laugh, in which even the grave counselors joined, at this simple solution at what had appeared to them so strange a mystery.
"Cuitcatl," the king said to one of the young nobles, "I hand over Roger Hawkshaw to your charge. You see you need not be afraid of him, and he will throw no spells over you. Show him all there is to see in the city; but go not far away, for we shall have frequent occasions to speak to him. He will have a seat in the council, and at our own table. See that all know that we most highly esteem and desire to honor him."
Bowing deeply to the king, queen, and princess, Roger followed the young noble into whose charge he had been given. For a long time they continued their way down passages and corridors, until it seemed to Roger that it was a town, rather than a building, that he was traversing. At last his conductor pushed aside a hanging, and entered an apartment.
"These are my rooms," he said. "You are now master here. All the nobles of the council, and those whom the king wishes to have about his person, have suites of apartments in the palace. I hope some day to have the pleasure of entertaining you on my own estate, which lies a day's journey away to the northeast of the lake. Now, you will doubtless be glad to retire to rest at once, for you have had a long and weary time."
So saying, he led the way to a small chamber, leading out of the larger one. Here a luxurious couch was arranged, and it was not many minutes before Roger was asleep; for he was indeed completely worn out, and was too much fatigued even to think over the strange position in which he found himself.
He woke early, for upon his journeys the caravan had always started at daybreak, so as to get as much as possible of the journey done before the heat of the day set in. For a moment he wondered vaguely where he was, and then, as recollection returned to him, he leaped from his couch, threw back the hangings before the window, and gazed out.
Glass was unknown in Mexico, nor was it a requisite in the balmy climate of the valley. The prospect was a charming one. Before him lay a garden, more beautiful than any he had ever beheld. It was filled with shrubs and flowers, and a delightful perfume filled the air. Fountains of bright water threw their jets high above the sweet-scented groves and shrubberies. Several large ponds glistened in the morning sun. On some of these were islands accessible by light bridges, and on the islands were fanciful pavilions. Waterfowl floated on the surface of the ponds, or stalked fearlessly on the marble pavement that surrounded them. The songs of innumerable birds filled the air. Roger was gazing in delight at the scene, when Cuitcatl's voice saluted him.
"So you are up betimes; are you ready for your bath, or will you take some chocolate first?"
"Bath first, please," Roger replied; and his guide led the way across the large room and, drawing a hanging aside, showed Roger into a bathroom.
The walls and floors were entirely covered with marble. In the center was a bath, some seven feet square, with a stream of water running into it from the mouth of a grotesque animal's head.
"Every apartment has its bathroom," Cuitcatl said. "The water runs for an hour after sunrise only, but it can be turned on at any hour. It seems a waste, but we are far above the lower portion of the garden, and the water therefore runs into a tank and thence works the fountains there. Would you like your attendant to rub you in the bath, or when you come out of it? For both methods are in use with us."
Roger declined both alternatives, and it was not very long before he rejoined his companion in the central apartment. Chocolate, light cakes, and fruit were at once served.
"We had best visit the gardens first, before the sun gains too much power. There are charming arbors and pavilions, in shady spots, for taking one's ease at the middle of the day; but for walking about, the early hours are the best."
The gardens were of great extent, and Roger was surprised at the extreme fearlessness of the innumerable birds, of all kinds, that seemed to regard them as their natural home.
"Why should they not be fearless?" Cuitcatl said, when he expressed his surprise. "They have never been frightened, and regard all who come here as their friends, rather than as their enemies. They have abundance of the food which they love best. They make their nests among the plants, or in the trees which they would use, were they wild. The ponds are full of fish, and the water birds can find a far richer supply, here, than elsewhere. When the ladies come, the birds flock around them and settle on their heads and shoulders, and take crumbs of sweet cake from their hands.
"Many birds must, of course, be caged, and you will see that there are large aviaries scattered here and there in the garden. In these are the hawks and eagles, and many other birds which could not be tamed so far as to remain in the garden, unconfined."
After wandering for nearly two hours in the garden, they returned to the palace; and afterwards went down to the marketplace, which was crowded, as it was the fifth day of the week. Cuitcatl had taken with them six officials of the palace, to clear the way and prevent the people from crowding in upon them.
Roger was struck with the orderly demeanor of the people. They seemed merry and lively, but their mirth was of a quiet kind; and there was, everywhere, an air of decorum and gentleness, in strong contrast to that of a European crowd.
"Why," he said to himself, "there is more noise at home, when two or three boats come in laden with pilchards, than is made by all these thousands and thousands of people!"
There was no pressing or pushing, and the order of the officials, "Make way for the king's guest, the great Roger Hawkshaw!" was at once obeyed; and the people drew aside, gazing at him curiously but respectfully, and saluting as if to one of their own great nobles.
The market was an extensive square, surrounded by deep porticoes, and each description of merchandise had its allotted quarter. In one was seen cotton piled up in bales, or manufactured into dresses and articles of domestic use, such as tapestry, curtains and coverings. The goldsmiths had a quarter assigned to them. There Roger admired bracelets, necklaces and earrings, delicately chased and carved, together with many curious toys made in imitation of birds and fishes, with scales and feathers alternately of gold and silver, and with movable heads and bodies.
In another quarter were the stores of the potters, with dishes and plates, cups and basins of every degree of fineness, for the use of poor and rich, vases of wood elaborately carved, varnished or gilt. Near these Roger examined some hatchets made of copper, alloyed with tin; and as he felt the hardness of the metal, thought to himself that the natives, if informed as to the size and proportions of cannon, would have no difficulty in founding those weapons.
Then there were certain shops devoted to the sale of articles needed by soldiers. The helmets, fashioned into the shape of the head of some wild animal, with grinning teeth and bristling crest; the quilted doublets of cotton; the rich surcoats of feather; mail and weapons of all sorts; copper-headed lances and arrows; and the broad Mexican sword, with its sharp blade of itztli, a hard polished stone, which served many of the purposes of steel to the Aztecs. Of this material were the razors made, with which barbers were engaged in operating in their booths.
Many shops were well provided with drugs, roots, and different medicinal preparations; for Mexico abounded in medicinal plants, and the study of their uses was considered one of the most useful of the sciences, and in this respect the Mexicans were considerably in advance of the people of Europe. There were shops for the sale of blank books, or rolls, for the hieroglyphic picture writing. Under some of the porticoes were hides, raw and dressed; and various articles for domestic or personal use, made of leather.
Animals, both wild and tame, were offered for sale; and near them Roger saw a gang of slaves, with collars round their necks, and these were also, Cuitcatl told him, for sale.
The portion of the market devoted to the sale of provisions was a large one. Here were meats of all kinds, domestic poultry, game from the neighboring mountains, and fish from the streams; together with an immense variety of fruit, green vegetables, and maize. Here were ready-cooked foods for immediate use--sold hot to passers by, and eaten as they stood--with stalls of pastry of many kinds, bread, cakes, and confectionery; chocolate, flavored with vanilla and other spices, and pulque, prepared with many varying flavors, tempted the passers by. All these commodities, and every stall and portico, were set out and well-nigh covered with flowers.
After leaving the market, Roger proceeded with his companion to the edge of the lake. It was dotted with countless canoes, traversing it in all directions, filled with people passing to and fro between the great capitals or neighboring cities, bent either upon pleasure or trade. After feasting his eyes for a considerable time upon the lovely and animated scene, Roger returned with his companion to the palace.
In the afternoon there was a great gathering of nobles at the palace, to enable a far wider circle than those assembled the evening before to see and hear the king's white guest. One of the old counselors, who had been present at the previous meeting, acted as questioner, and this enabled Roger to escape certain queries to which he would have had difficulty in replying; and while the assembly heard much of the various wonders of the white people, they learned nothing of the manner in which the stranger had reached their shores, or the object of his coming; and at the end, the general impression that remained upon them was that he was a mysterious and supernatural being, who had come to teach the people new arts and inventions.
When the meeting was over, Roger retired again to the private apartments, and entertained the ladies there with many details of European life and manners, and by sketching for them houses, and ships, and other objects they demanded.
Two hours later, Cacama came in. He was evidently vexed and anxious.
"I am sorry to say, Roger Hawkshaw," he said, "that tomorrow you must accompany me across the lake to Mexico. I have had four dispatches today from my Uncle Montezuma. He blames me for having permitted you to enter the city before consulting the priests at his capital. You know they are all powerful there. Montezuma, with all his pride and haughtiness, is but their humble servant. He says that sacrifices have been offered up, and that the auguries are unfavorable, and that the priests proclaim your presence to be a danger to Mexico.
"I have no doubt that, when they see you, this opinion will be changed; and I shall do my best to prepare the way for you. I have already sent a private messenger to the high priest, speaking in the highest terms of you, and strengthening my recommendation by some valuable presents, to which priests are not more than other men inaccessible."
Roger saw, by the look of dismay upon the faces of the queen and the princess, that they considered the news very grave.
"Must he go?" the queen asked, in a low voice.
"How can it be helped?" Cacama replied. "Montezuma is supreme; and he and the priests, together, are all powerful. Roger is not like other men. Were he so, I would tell him when night falls to fly, and Cuitcatl would risk the consequences, I am sure, and act as his guide; but being as he is, where could he go, or where could he hide? Were it known in the morning that he was missing, a hundred messengers from Mexico would carry the news to every town and village in the country. Even if we colored his skin and his hair, his height would attract attention; for he is taller by half a head, and broader, by far, than any Mexican. But even did he, by traveling by night and hiding by day, get at last beyond the boundary of our kingdoms, what would then be his fate? --To die of hunger or thirst, or to be slain by wild tribes.
"What say you, Roger Hawkshaw? Will you risk these unknown dangers, or will you go to Montezuma tomorrow?"
"Were I sure that the priests would decide against me, and that I should be sacrificed to their great idol, I would risk death in any other form, rather than that," Roger replied. "But it may be that, when they see I have no evil intentions, and neither thought nor power of injuring Mexico, they may lay aside their animosity against me."
"They do not believe that you will injure Mexico," Amenche said, passionately. "They only want you for a sacrifice. They think that a being so strange and rare as a white man would be, of all, the most acceptable victim to their god.
"My brother, do not let him go," and the girl burst into tears.
"My little sister," Cacama said tenderly, "you know that I am powerless in the matter. In my grandfather's time, he would have answered a demand that a guest of his should be given up by a message of defiance; but times have changed since then, and the greater part of my kingdom no longer remains to me. My brother, who disputed my right to the throne, reigns over a large portion of it. Montezuma has seized fertile provinces. I am little more than the lord of a city; and could offer no resistance, for a single day, to the power of the Emperor.
"But you must remember that, as yet, we do not know that the priests will decide against him. I myself shall go with him, and I have already, as I have told you, taken some steps to incline the priests in his favor. When I arrive there tomorrow, I will exert myself personally. I have many friends among the highest at Montezuma's court, and will also pray these to use their influence.
"Should I fail, all will not be lost. It is likely that, if they decide upon sacrificing you, Roger, they will make you the victim to the god Tezcatlepoca, 'the soul of the world.' For him is always chosen the captive most distinguished for his appearance. For a year he is treated as the representative of the god. He is nobly cared for, he is attended by a train of royal pages, is worshiped by the people as he passes through the street, and is feasted at the tables of the nobles. Were you selected for this, as we consider it, great honor, there would be at least a year before you; and you might then, in some manner, make your escape beyond our boundaries. At any rate, some time is sure to elapse before your fate will be determined upon; and I can promise that I will do all in my power to aid you to escape, should you determine upon flight."
"I thank you most heartily," Roger said. "I have no fear of death in battle, but to me it would be very horrible to be put to death as a victim, on a festival; and I would rather escape and drown myself in the lake, than that such should be my fate. Still, if it must be so, it must; and I trust that I may behave as befits an Englishman, in such an extremity."
Amenche here stepped forward to her brother, and spoke earnestly in his ear.
"My sister reminds me," he said, "that we have sometimes another form of sacrifice; and that if I can do naught else, I might be able to persuade the priests to pronounce in favor of that. It is only adopted in the case of a captive of distinction; who, instead of being sacrificed, is sometimes matched against a number of Mexicans. The combat takes place on a great circular stone, in the sight of the whole city. The captive is provided with arms, and meets his opponents one by one. If he defeat them all--which has more than once happened in our history--he is allowed to go free."
"That would suit me best, by far," Roger said eagerly. "I have no doubt but that I should be killed, still, I should die in fair fighting against numbers; and it would be no worse than if I had fallen fighting the Moorish pirates, on the deck of our ship."
"I should think that it could be managed," Cacama said. "I should tell them that, at present, none could say whether you were a superhuman being or no; and that it might bring some misfortune upon the nation, were a messenger of the gods put to death. This trial would prove that. If the gods protected you, you would triumph. If they were not on your side, you would be defeated."
"I should do my best," Roger said quietly. "I have been well taught the use of arms, and in our long voyage here we practiced daily. In point of skill I could hold my own with any on board, though there were many to whom I was but a child, in point of strength. In that matter, however, I have doubtless gained much since then.
"I shall be thankful indeed, Prince, if you can persuade them to fix on this mode of execution for me; and I thank you very gratefully, Princess, for suggesting it."
They talked for some time longer, and then Roger retired to his apartment. The next morning, soon after sunrise, he embarked with Cacama in a canoe, paddled by six rowers.
"My wife and sister bade me say farewell to you," Cacama said. "They are sorely grieved at your going, and hope that you may return with me this afternoon. But if not, they bade me say that they will do all that is in their power; and women can exert influence, as well as men, on your behalf."
It was a long row across the lake to Mexico. Large as was the population of Tezcuco, which was estimated by the Spaniards to contain a hundred and twenty thousand inhabitants, that of Mexico was fully three times as great. As Montezuma had not yet determined upon the course which was to be pursued towards this mysterious stranger, the people had not been informed of his coming. A strong guard of soldiers, with several officers of the palace, met the party upon its landing, surrounded them, and marched quickly through the streets to the palace.
The buildings resembled those of Tezcuco, and were massive and solid in character; but were not, Roger thought, grander or more splendid than those in the rival capital. The town was intersected by canals, and the bridges across these could be raised, adding largely to the defensive power of the place.
Upon reaching the palace the soldiers drew back, and the palace guard took charge of the party and led them into a large apartment, where they waited until the emperor was ready to receive them. Presently two court officials entered and, placing a mantle of coarse cotton over Roger, signed to him to take off his sandals. Cacama had already informed him that even the highest nobles of the land, with the exception of those of royal blood, were obliged to enter Montezuma's presence in this attire, as emblematic of their humility. He also charged Roger that it was the etiquette that all should keep their eyes fixed on the ground, until addressed by Montezuma.
Accompanied by Cacama, Roger followed the officials. Passing through several corridors they entered a vast hall. Roger was aware that at the farther end the emperor was seated, surrounded by a numerous body of nobles; but the instant he entered the room he followed the instructions of Cacama, and saluted to the ground, and then advanced with downcast eyes until the officials by his side ordered him to pause.
Montezuma was a victim of superstition, and had been seriously discomposed at the news of the arrival of this mysterious visitor; the more so that the priests, themselves, were unable to decide whether his visit was a good or evil augury. As he looked at the tall figure before him, with its strange-colored skin and hair, and the air of independence and fearlessness that was visible in the pose, notwithstanding the downcast eyes, he could not but be favorably impressed, despite his fears.
"You are welcome to our court," he said, "if you come in peace and goodwill."
"I come in peace and goodwill to your Majesty and your empire," Roger said.
"We have heard that you come from far beyond the seas, where dwell a people having strange ways, who live in floating castles, and who fight with weapons making thunder."
Roger bowed.
"Your Majesty has been correctly informed."
"Do the people there worship the same gods that we do?"
"They do not, your Majesty. The people there worship the one Great God--the God of the skies, the air, and the earth."
"And that God sent you hither?" Montezuma asked.
"Assuredly, Sire. He directs all things."
"Each country has its gods. The gods of Mexico have given us victory over all the peoples from sea to sea."
Roger bowed. He did not feel called upon to contradict the emperor.
"How is it that you came alone to this land?"
"I wished to see it," Roger said, "reports of its greatness and power having reached across the seas. Had I come with others, it might have been thought that I came as an enemy; but coming alone, and without arms, it could not be suspected that my intentions were other than friendly."
Montezuma appeared impressed with this answer. The audience lasted for upwards of half an hour, Montezuma asking many questions about the ships, the arms, the mode of government, and other matters among the white people, He then bowed his head.
The official signified that the audience was over, and that Roger was to retire. As he had been instructed by Cacama he withdrew, keeping his face to the emperor.
He was conducted to a different apartment. Here a table was laid, and he was served by attendants of the court; who, however, made no reply to any questions he asked them, and had evidently received orders to hold no verbal communication with him.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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10
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: News From The Coast.
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It was with a feeling of pleasure and relief that, after some hours, Roger saw the hangings drawn aside, and Cacama enter.
"Come, my friend, the council is over, and you may return with me."
Cacama was evidently anxious to be off at once, and Roger followed him without a question. One of the pages of the palace led the way through a long series of passages, and at last Roger found himself outside the palace, where a door opened into a canal. Here Cacama's boat was lying. The young king and Roger took their seats, and the canoe dashed off at once.
"It has been a hard fight in the council," Cacama said. "No two men were of the same opinion. Even the priests were divided among themselves; and Montezuma was as undecided, at the end, as he was at the beginning; so that the decision is postponed. Then the question arose, were you to be treated as a guest or as a prisoner? And this I settled by saying that I would take you back with me to Tezcuco, and produce you whenever required. So in order to avoid excitement among the people, I sent word for the boat to be brought round to that quiet entrance to the palace, by which means we avoided passing through the streets, altogether.
"At one time it seemed to me that the decision would go against you, on the ground that, had you been a supernatural being, you would have had new arts to teach the people. Fortunately, I had brought with me the pictures you made for my wife and sister, and these I showed them. I pointed out that they were altogether different from the work of our own scribes; that these drew stiff images that looked like representations, not of men and animals, but of wooden creatures, while in your drawings it seemed as if the men and animals were moving across the paper; and that, were you to teach our scribes thus to portray objects, it would make a profound alteration in Mexican art.
"This made a great impression upon them. Many of the nobles belonging to the Council of Education were present, and Montezuma himself is fond of art. All were greatly struck with your paintings, and these certainly went a long way towards strengthening my party. When we get back, you shall do some pictures of things such as they see here, and are accustomed to. Perhaps you could do even better, still, if you were to try."
"I could make much more finished pictures," Roger said. "These were only sketched off in haste, and with such colors as came to hand; but if I had pigments, and could mix the colors as I wanted them, I could produce very much better effect."
Roger, as a child, had been placed by his father, during the latter's long absences from home, at a school kept by some monks at a monastery at Plymouth, in order that he might learn to read and write--as these accomplishments would be of great use to him, as a master mariner. His fondness for painting attracted the attention of one of the old monks, who illuminated missals; and he had permitted him to copy many of the manuscripts in the monastery, and had given him instructions in the art. He had, indeed, been so struck with the talent the boy showed, that he told Reuben Hawkshaw that if he would let his son devote himself to art, he would make a famous painter. The sailor had scoffed at the idea; and Roger himself, fond as he was of painting, would have been reluctant to abandon the idea of going to sea.
The instructions he had obtained, however, up to the age of twelve, when he went on his first voyage with his father, had been of great assistance to him. Thanks to his natural talent, his visits to the churches at the various ports at which the ship touched, and to the fact that he had plenty of time on board to practice the art, his pictures were surprisingly good, and had excited a great deal of attention on the part of the friends and acquaintances of Master Diggory Beggs.
Upon his return to Tezcuco, Cacama ordered the scribes to furnish him with large sheets of the best paper, brushes, and pigments. The colors were all bright and glaring ones; but by mixing them, and adding some sombre dyes he obtained in the market, Roger succeeded in getting the required tints. Taking his place in the garden, at a point where he commanded the lake, near at hand, dotted with canoes; and the city of Mexico, with its background of hills, in the distance, Roger set to work. To the surprise of the scribe who had been ordered to assist him, he mixed the colors with oil instead of water, and then began his picture. He worked as long as there was sufficient light, and recommenced it the next morning, directly after sunrise, and continued at work all day; and by evening had finished the picture, three feet by two, which, although it would not be considered remarkable in Europe, excited the most lively admiration on the part of Cacama and the ladies.
He explained to the king that, as he had none of the spirit that was used in conjunction with the oil to make it dry rapidly, it would be some days before the picture would be sufficiently dry to be touched. Cacama, however, sent it off the next morning under charge of his principal scribe to Montezuma, who sent back word that he was astonished, indeed, at this work of art, which seemed to him to be almost magical; and he sent, in return, a large golden goblet to Roger, in token of his satisfaction.
Cacama was summoned to a council on the following day; and returned, saying that the picture had quite turned the scale in Roger's favor; that it had been examined by the chief scribes and the men of science, who all agreed that no such thing had been seen before; and that a person who was thus able to turn, as it were, a leaf of paper into a mirror, to fix upon it the representation of scenes just as the eye beheld them, must be possessed of powers altogether strange and supernatural. They desired to know whether he would teach his methods to some of the chief scribes of the emperor.
Cacama warmly congratulated Roger on the result.
"You are now safe, for the present, at any rate," he said, "and the priests are silenced. You may have trouble in the future, but for the time Montezuma's love of art has overcome his doubts and fears as to good and evil omens."
"Shall I have to take up my residence in Mexico?"
"I hardly think so," Cacama replied. "Tezcuco is still acknowledged the center of the arts and sciences of Anahuac. Here are the best schools of the scribes, and they come here to be instructed in hieroglyphic writing from all parts of the kingdom. Moreover, in that way Montezuma will have less uneasiness concerning you. He will think that, even if the omens be unfavorable, there will be no danger so long as you are at a distance from his capital; therefore, I think he is more likely to order some of the scribes to take up their residence here, for a time, than he is to bid you to cross to teach them there."
Such in fact was the purport of the message received from Montezuma on the following day. Six of the most accomplished scribes of Mexico were to proceed at once to Tezcuco, there to be instructed in the new art; and the next day Roger found himself established in a room in the palace, with the six Aztec scribes, and six of those most celebrated for their skill in Tezcuco. Some attendants were told off to mix colors under his directions, and to purchase for him, in the market, all kinds of dyes and colors he might require. A male and female slave were, at Roger's request, placed at his service to act as models; and the attendants had orders to fetch, from the cages and aviaries, any beasts and birds he might desire to copy.
Roger had, at first, some difficulty in preserving his gravity at thus undertaking charge of an art school. At first he confined himself to sketching, from the models, with a burnt stick on the white paper, and in seeing that his pupils did the same. Their drawing had hitherto been purely conventional. They had always drawn a man in a certain way, not because they saw him so, but because that was the way in which they had been taught to draw him; and he had great difficulty in getting them to depart altogether from these lines, and to draw the model exactly as he stood before them.
What he called his school hours lasted but four hours a day; and as he did this work in the middle of the day, when it was too hot to go out, but very pleasant in the rooms with their thick walls and semi-shaded windows, it interfered but little with his daily life. He had now a set of apartments next to those of Cuitcatl, with attendants to wait upon him; but his time was spent as much in the young noble's rooms as in his own. In the morning they walked together, either in the town or beyond its walls. In the evening they spent hours upon the lake, sometimes in large canoes with gay parties, the boats decked with flowers; while at a short distance another boat with musicians followed in their wake, the melody, which was by no means agreeable to Roger when close, coming softly across the water. With Cuitcatl as a guide, Roger visited the schools where the young nobles were educated, and which reminded him much of that at which he had, for five or six years, been taught.
He also frequently witnessed the drilling of the soldiers. This was of a very simple character, consisting principally in teaching them to move together in masses, and to shoot with a bow. The bows were light and the arrows small, and Roger thought that they could scarcely be very formidable weapons, even against men clad in quilted cotton; for although they might wound and annoy, they could seldom kill.
One evening, about five months after his arrival, Roger had just returned from an excursion upon the lake; and he and Cuitcatl were seated in the latter's rooms, sipping chocolate, when the hangings of the door were drawn aside suddenly, and Amenche entered. With an exclamation of surprise, the two young men rose to their feet and saluted deeply.
"You must fly," she exclaimed to Roger, "and at once. The royal boat has just come from Mexico, with two nobles and a guard. They have orders to carry you back with them. The news has arrived that several floating castles, filled with white men with strange arms and animals, have arrived on the coast. Secret council has been held, and Montezuma is full of alarm. The priests have decided that you are undoubtedly a spy, and must be sacrificed, at once, to the gods. I happened to be behind the hanging, heard what was said, and hurried away to warn you.
"There is not a moment to lose. Go round to the garden, and conceal yourself in the shrubbery near the eagle house. I will tell Cacama where you are, and he will come or send down to you, to say what had best be done, and where you are to go. Do not delay an instant. The orders were urgent, and they will be here in a minute or two to seize you.
"Not a word, now. Go! I must not be found here. I will see you again," and she was gone.
"Come, my friend," Cuitcatl said; "there is evidently not a moment to be lost."
Roger ran into his room; emptied, from a drawer where they were lying, the gold ornaments and presents he had received, and tied them in a cloth; caught up his sword and then, with Cuitcatl, hurried down the passage. Just as they reached the end, they saw a party appear at the other extremity, preceded by an official carrying torches.
"We are but just in time," the young noble said. "The princess has saved your life."
In two or three minutes they were in the garden and keeping carefully in the shade of the shrubs, so as to escape the view of any who might be sitting at the windows, or on the flat roof of the palace, enjoying the lovely evening and the bright moonlight. They made their way cautiously down to the eagle house, which lay at the other end of the garden, nearly half a mile from the palace. The whole thing had come so suddenly upon Roger that he could scarcely believe, even now, that his pleasant and tranquil time had come to an end, and he was in danger of being dragged away and instantly sacrificed.
Scarce a word was spoken until they reached the spot indicated. Close to this grew a large patch of bamboos.
"We will take refuge here, for the present," Cuitcatl said. "It is hardly likely they will search the gardens at night. It would need an army to do so thoroughly. If we hear footsteps approaching, we can take refuge inside; and meantime, let us seat ourselves here.
"These must be the people you told us of, the first night you came."
"No doubt they are so; but, Cuitcatl, you had best return at once to your chamber. You will be missed as well as I shall, and it would be suspected that you had a share in my flight; and if I should make my escape, the emperor's vengeance may fall on you. Pray leave me at once. I should be most unhappy if my misfortunes brought trouble upon you. You have been like a brother to me, since I came here."
"I should not think of leaving you," the young noble said firmly.
"But you can do me more good by going, Cuitcatl. You will see what is taking place there, and may throw them off the scent; while here you can do me no good whatever, and indeed might do me harm. Were I found here with you, I should be forced to surrender without striking a blow; for I should be afraid to resist, lest I should bring harm upon you; whereas, if I am alone, I would fight to the death rather than surrender. Besides, you will be able to consult the princess, and can bring down such things as you may consider will aid me in my flight--though how I am to escape the search there will be after me is more than I can guess. Pray go at once, for the sooner you go the sooner you can bring me back news of what is being done up there."
Cuitcatl saw the justice of Roger's reasoning.
"I may, at least, throw them off the scent," he said, "and see about preparing for your flight. You promise to hide in the bamboos there, if searchers should come in this direction?"
"Certainly I do. I will do all in my power to conceal myself, and will only fight if there be no other way."
Cuitcatl at once glided noiselessly off, keeping as before in the shadow of the bushes. For an hour and a half Roger remained alone. He was sitting under the shadow of the bamboos, and could in a moment withdraw himself among them.
At last he thought he heard a slight noise, and drew back towards the thick canes. A moment later, however, he stepped forward, as a figure he at once recognized advanced across a patch of moonlight from the next clump of shrubs.
"All is well so far," Cuitcatl said. "Directly I entered the palace, an attendant told me that I was being inquired for, and I proceeded straight to the royal apartments. Montezuma's messengers were there. They at once asked me if I had seen you. I said yes, that we had been walking together, but that you had not returned with me, as you said that the night was so lovely you should remain out for some time longer. They asked me if I could lead them to where you were; but I said that you had not told me which way you should go, and you might, for aught I knew, have taken a canoe and gone for a moonlight row on the lake, as was often your custom.
"Orders have been issued to the city guard to arrest you, immediately, wherever you might be found; and the envoys themselves started at once, with the guard they had brought with them, to the waterside. Up to that time Cacama, who had not left them, was in ignorance what had become of you; and I could see he was anxious, and much troubled." " 'Do you know where he is?' he asked me, as soon as we were alone. " 'Would it not be better, your Majesty,' I said, 'that you should remain in ignorance? Should he escape, Montezuma will be furious; and it might be well that you should be able to affirm, on your oath, that you knew nothing of him, and were in no way privy to his escape.' " 'But is there a chance of his escaping?' he asked. " 'We will do what we can,' I said; 'and we can do no more. With a disguise, a guide, and arms, Roger Hawkshaw may be able to make his way through the country, in spite of Montezuma and his army. I should think that the best thing will be to get him into a small canoe, take him to the end of the lake, and land him near Tepechpan. Then he can strike up north, take to the hills there, and then journey east. All the roads direct from here will be so guarded that it will be impossible to get through. The search will be close everywhere; but there will be more chance of escape, on that line, than from here.' " 'But how about the guide? Whom can we trust?' " 'I have one of my hunters in the town. He brought some game down from my estate today, and was not to return until tomorrow. I know where he lodges. He is a brave fellow, and carried my banner in the last campaign.' " 'You will let me know before he starts?' the king asked. " 'I will, your Majesty. The moon will not be down for three hours, yet, and he cannot attempt to fly until it has set.'
"As I left the royal apartment, one of the female attendants came up and, putting her finger on her lip, signed to me to follow her. I did so, and she led me to the apartment where the Queen and Princess Amenche were awaiting me. " 'You have left your friend safe, Cuitcatl?' the queen said. 'The princess has told me the part she has taken in the affair. It was foolish, but I cannot blame her, though if Montezuma knew by whose means the prey had slipped from his fingers, the least she could expect would be to be ordered to retire, for life, to one of the temples. Have you formed any plans?'
"I told her what I had thought of. " 'That seems as good a plan as any other,' she said. 'He will need paints to disguise himself, the dress of a peasant, and arms.' " 'He has his sword,' I said. " 'He cannot take that. Its golden handle would betray him, at once. A heavy woodman's ax, and a bow and spear, would be the most suitable.' " 'He shall have them,' I said. 'My hunter shall take them, and place them in the canoe, in readiness.' " 'What are you going to do now?' " 'I am going first into the town, to give my hunter his instructions, and bid him be at the lake entrance to the gardens, half an hour after the moon has set. I shall want the key of the gate. Next I shall go down, and tell Roger what preparations have been made; and then return here, for it is best I should be seen in the palace. Then, just as the moon sets, I shall go down again to him.' " 'Come here on your way, Cuitcatl. I shall go down with Amenche to say goodbye to him. This obstinate girl has determined to go, and I cannot let her go alone.'
"As soon as I left them, I went down to the town and found my hunter, who has taken a vow to lay down his life to save you, if necessary.
"Here are some peasant's clothes--a coarse cotton mantle, and a short skirt. Here is a jar of dye. You had better strip at once, and let me color you, and then put on these clothes. It will be too dark to see to do it properly, when I return. Besides, time will be short then.
"This small jar contains some dye from the juice of a plant which will turn your hair black--at least, as they use it for dyeing the skins of animals black, I suppose it will affect your hair."
Roger at once took off his gaudy attire, and was stained from head to foot with the contents of the jug, and then rubbed his hair with the liquid from the smaller vessel. Then he put on the peasant's clothes.
"You will pass well, now," Cuitcatl said, heading him out in the moonlight, so that he could obtain a good view of him. "It is only your height that is against you. Still, some men are taller than others; though I never saw one as tall as you, and you will certainly be stared at.
"Is there anything else in the way of arms you would like, beside the ax and spear?"
"I shall make myself a bow and arrows, when we get fairly away," Roger said.
"I did not know you could use them."
"I could not use such little things as those your people carry; but we still use the bow in England, and every boy is obliged, by law, to practice with it. With such a bow as I should make, I could send an arrow three times as far as those puny weapons of yours, and could keep my foes at a distance; whereas, otherwise, they could shoot me down as they chose."
"They will not shoot you down," Cuitcatl said. "You may be quite sure that the orders will be to take you alive, and this will give you a great advantage, if you are attacked. But I must be going up now to the palace again, to show myself, for a time, among our friends. Just as the moon sets I will be here."
"Will you thank the queen and princess for their kindness," Roger said, "and say that, much as I should like to say goodbye to them, I would not that they should run any risks by coming to see me?"
"They will come," Cuitcatl said, "unless I am greatly mistaken. The princess would come, even if her uncle Montezuma were, himself, watching her."
Roger sat down again, and watched the moon going down. He felt a certain sense of exhilaration at the thought that he was about to enter upon a life of active adventure, again. It had seemed to him, lately, that his life was to be spent in this strange country, cut off from all chances of ever returning to England; and that, sooner or later, he was assuredly destined to form a part of their hideous sacrifices. The party against him had been silenced for a moment, but would be sure to gather strength again; and he would be called upon either to worship these bloodstained idols, or to die.
Life was pleasant enough as it was, at present, with the friendship of the young king, and the kindness of the queen and princess; but he would soon be tired of it, with its everlasting sunshine, and its flowers, and its idleness.
At last the moon set, and in a few minutes he heard footsteps approaching, and Cuitcatl and two veiled figures came up. The queen came straight up to him.
"We are very sorry to lose you, Roger Hawkshaw," she said, gently; "and were there a hope of doing so successfully, we would defy the cruel orders from Montezuma. But it would bring ruin on our people."
"I know that it cannot be done, Madam," Roger said. "I thank you and the king, most heartily, for all your kindness to me. If I escape to my own country, I shall remember it all my life; and I will pray, to the God we worship, to give you happiness."
"Take this," the queen said, putting a small bag into his hand. "You have told me that these gems are as much prized among your people as they are here, and you can more easily conceal them than gold. I have taken them, with the king's permission, from the royal treasure; and should you reach your distant home in safety, they ought to make you rich for the rest of your life.
"And now, farewell. Whatever the priests may say, Cacama and I know that you came as a friend, and meant us no harm.
"Now, Amenche," she said, "come and say goodbye."
The girl came forward slowly. She took Roger's hand, and gazed up into his face. She seemed to try to speak, and then Roger felt her sway suddenly, and caught her just as she would have fallen.
"Give her to me," the queen said. "It is best so, by far.
"Hurry away, Roger. You have done harm enough, without meaning it.
"Cuitcatl, take him away, at once."
The young noble took Roger's hand, and hurried him away.
"What is the matter?" he asked, bewildered. "What did the queen mean--that I had done harm enough?"
"Do you mean to say that you have not seen that Amenche loves you?"
"I never dreamed of such a thing," Roger exclaimed.
"Cacama and the queen, and all of us who have seen her with you, knew it long ago; and had it not been for this unlucky news, today, Cacama would, in a short time, have offered you her hand. There has been a scene tonight between her and her brother; for she declared that she would go with you, and share your dangers, whatever they might be. She has for the last three hours been confined in her chamber, and she was only allowed to come down to say goodbye to you, on her swearing that she would return with the queen to her room."
"I am awfully sorry," Roger said. "I never dreamed of such a thing. The princess has always been very kind to me, but I should never have thought of raising my eyes so high. Besides, as I have told you, I am still scarce a man; and with us, one does not think of marriage until he is five or six years older than I am."
"No one blames you at all," Cuitcatl said. "The king and queen both told her that they were sure you had not thought of her in that way; though they naturally supposed that, had you remained here, you would have gladly formed such an alliance when it was offered you. However, it is no use talking any more about it. You will have difficulties enough before you, and would have had no chance whatever of getting through them, if encumbered with her.
"Cacama told her so, but she scoffed at the idea of danger. Mexican women, when they love, are ready for any sacrifice. Cacama did not press that, but chiefly spoke of the terrible scandal it would be, were she--his sister and the niece of Montezuma--to be brought back with you, a captive."
They were now at the gate. Cuitcatl opened it, and locked it again after him. A figure was standing outside.
"This is my follower. You may rely upon him to serve you, to the last.
"Bathalda, this is my white friend. You will serve him as you would me."
The man took Roger's hand, and carried it to his forehead.
"My life is yours, my lord," he said.
"Is everything ready, Bathalda?" asked Cuitcatl.
"Yes, my lord. I have the canoe hidden among the rocks, with the arms and some food. It is but a few hundred yards away."
"Let us be off then, at once," Cuitcatl said.
The man led the way down to the lake, and then along the shore for some little distance.
"There is the canoe," he said.
Cuitcatl embraced Roger.
"I wish that I could go with you, my white brother, and share your dangers down to the coast," he said; "but I could aid you but little, and my life would be forfeited on my return. May the gods of Mexico, and the God you worship, protect you.
"It may be--who knows? --that some day you may return hither. Cuitcatl's heart will be rejoiced to see you."
"Thank you for all your kindness," Roger said. "Whatever befalls me, I shall never forget it. Thank Cacama for all he has done in my favor, and say goodbye for me to the princess. Tell her that it is better so, for that so soft a flower would soon droop, and pine away, in my cold country."
Roger took his seat in the canoe, Bathalda seized the paddle, and the little boat shot out from the shore. For some distance they kept close in under the shadow of the land, Bathalda saying that two or three royal canoes were rowing up and down, opposite the town, and that every canoe putting off had been stopped and questioned. Several times, when the sound of a paddle was heard out on the lake, Bathalda stopped rowing for a time; but after keeping close to the shore for an hour, he struck out more boldly and, after two hours' further rowing, approached the shore again.
"This is the point where we must land," he said. "Four hours' walking will take us among the hills; but before we leave the canoe we will half fill it with stones, then knock a hole in her bottom and push her out into the lake to sink. Were she found here in the morning, it might afford a clue as to the way we had taken."
This was done, and then they started for the hills. Alone, Roger would have had great difficulty in making his way along the paths running between the cultivated fields; but his companion led the way without hesitation, seeing, apparently, as well as if it had been broad daylight. Roger carried the ax, which was a heavy one, on one shoulder; and in the other hand the spear, which he used as a walking stick.
Before daylight broke they were ascending the hills, which were wild and rugged. They passed several villages lying high up on rugged hilltops, and inaccessible, save by ladders, which could be drawn up in case of attack.
"The tribes here have only recently been conquered," Bathalda said. "They pay tribute to Mexico, but are a wild race; and as there is nothing to be obtained from them but hard knocks, they are but little interfered with."
Getting deeper among the hills, Bathalda, just as morning was breaking, led the way up a ravine down which a little stream trickled, and found a resting place among a number of great rocks that had fallen from above.
"Here," he said, "we shall be perfectly safe for the day. It is not likely that even a shepherd will enter this ravine, and if he does, he is not likely to come upon us here. First, let us eat our breakfast; and then we will lie down, and sleep till evening. I will keep watch if you like, but I do not think there is any occasion for it."
"Not the least," Roger agreed. "We had both better get what sleep we can. We shall have a long tramp before us, tonight."
They were undisturbed during the day and, as soon as the sun set, were again on their feet. The journey was a toilsome one. The country was so broken that they were continually either climbing the steep hills or descending into the valleys. After the moon had set they were forced to come to a halt, for some hours, finding it impossible to climb the steep hills in the darkness. With the first light of day they were again in motion, and continued walking for some hours.
"There," Bathalda said at last, as he gained the brow of the hill, "that is the plateau land. The town you see there, away on our right, is Otompan. Now we will keep due west. There are no large towns now, till we reach Tlatlanquitepec and Perote. From that point our danger will be the greatest, for all the roads across the mountains are sure to be watched. The guards at the station houses on these roads have, no doubt, by this time had orders to look for you and arrest you; but by traveling at night, we may pass them safely.
"We may as well enter that field of maize, and lie down until evening. After that we will follow a path till we gain a main road, and then travel straight on. We can go so much faster on a road than through the fields; and I know where the post houses are situated, so we can make a detour to avoid them."
That night they walked, as far as Roger could guess, fifty miles, and again entered a very hilly country. In the morning they left the road and encamped in a wood, far up the hillside. During the day they saw several parties of troops following the road; and many couriers passed along, at a swift run.
"The whole country is up," Bathalda said. "We shall have to be very careful, in future."
The first night, while passing through the low, hot country near the lake, Roger had cut a strong bamboo; together with a bundle of smaller rods, suitable for arrows. Bathalda had brought with him a bag of sharp obsidian arrowheads, and some feathers for winging them, together with a bowstring of twice the ordinary strength. He had looked on with amusement when Roger cut the bamboo, making it, as was the custom of English archers, of his own height.
"My lord is not intending that, surely, for a bow?" he said.
"Yes, Bathalda, I think that will do well," Roger said, trying with his knee the stiffness of the cane.
At the halt next day, Roger had cut the notches for the string.
"Now, Bathalda," he said, "can you string this?"
"No, my lord; nor can any other man."
"I think it is about the strength of the bows we use at home," Roger said. "The stringing them is a matter of knack, as well as of strength."
And, to the amazement of the Aztec, he strung the bow.
"Now," said he, "let us make some arrows. They should be a cloth yard in length--that is, from the middle of my chest to the end of my middle finger."
A dozen of the light bamboos were cut to this length. The huntsman fitted the obsidian points to them, and Roger stepped back a hundred yards from the small tree, with a trunk some six inches in diameter, under whose shade they had been sitting. Then he fitted the arrow to the string, bent the bow to its head, and loosed the arrow. It struck the trunk, but glanced off.
"I am out of practice, indeed," he said, "or I should have hit that fair in the center."
To the huntsman, however, the shot seemed well-nigh miraculous, the distance being twice as great as the Mexican bows would carry, with anything like accuracy; while the speed with which the arrow flew, and the distance it went after glancing from the tree, showed that it would have been fatal at least fifty yards beyond the object aimed at. Taking the bow from Roger, he fitted another arrow in and tried to bend it; but with all his efforts could only draw the arrow four or five inches.
"It is wonderful," he said, returning the weapon to Roger. "If I had not seen it done, I could not have believed it."
"It is merely a matter of practice," Roger said. "My people are famous for their dexterity with the bow, and I have seen men hit a mark no bigger than the palm of my hand, ten times in succession, at that distance."
The next time they halted, Bathalda made the rest of the bamboos into arrows and, making a quiver of the bark of a tree, hung them over his shoulder. Roger left his spear behind; using the bow, which he had unstrung, as a walking staff. Bathalda offered to carry the spear, in addition to his own weapon, but Roger told him that he did not care about it.
"If it should come to a hand-to-hand fight," he said, "I would rather rely on my ax. Besides, the bow, now it is unstrung, makes an excellent quarterstaff, a weapon with which I have practiced a great deal. With a spear your people would know quite as much as I should; but I fancy that, with a quarterstaff, I should astonish them. It has the advantage, too, that it disables without killing; and as your soldiers would only be doing their duty in arresting me, I should be sorry to do them more harm than I could help.
"There were a great many men on the road below there, today."
"A great many, my lord; and no doubt the garrisons of the two towns we shall have to pass tonight will be all out, and on the watch. This is the most dangerous part of the journey. The mountains are rugged, and there are only certain passes by which we can travel, and they are sure to be watched narrowly. They will guess that we shall travel by night."
"I suppose it will not be possible to make a detour, either to the south or north?"
The Aztec shook his head.
"To the north lie terrible mountains, of whose passes I know nothing. Our provisions are exhausted, and we must, in future, depend upon maize and other things we can pick by the way. Were we to go there, we should find nothing.
"To the south lies Tlascala, whose people are independent of Montezuma. They are fierce and warlike, and would seize and offer you to the gods, without pity."
"Still, they would not be on the lookout for us; and we might, therefore, pass through their country without being seen."
"We might do so, my lord," Bathalda agreed.
"At any rate," Roger said, "it seems to me that there would be more chance, in that direction, than in going straight forward. From what you say, it seems well-nigh impossible for us to get through the passes ahead of us, without being captured."
Accordingly, when night fell they struck off to the south. The journey was a very toilsome one, for they were now crossing the spurs of the hills, running far down into the plateau. As before, they had to halt when the moon set, but continued their way at daybreak.
"There is a road down in the valley there," Roger said, after three hours' more walking.
Bathalda stood looking down, for some time.
"I know it, now," he said. "It is the last road north of Tlascala, and runs from Huejotlipan to Yxtacamaxtitlan. We are already east of Tlascala, and about fifteen miles from Yxtacamaxtitlan. If we get past that town without accident, we shall then have to cross the Pass of Obispo, over the great range of mountains, and come down near Naulinco. Once past that town our dangers will be over, for there are few towns and villages in the Tierra Caliente. Our great danger will lie in the pass. There are but two or three roads across these mountains, and they will know that we must follow them."
"Well, we must take our chance," Roger said. "So far we have met with no difficulties, whatever, and provided we don't come across too large a force, we ought to be able to manage to get through. I noticed there were trees right through the pass I came over; and I see the country ahead is thickly wooded. How far is the pass from where we are now?"
"About thirty miles. It is where you see that cleft in the great line of hills."
"Well, we can get near it before the moon sets, and will try to pass through by daylight. It would be useless attempting to make our way through the trees at night; and if we have to fight, I would rather do so in the light. We will lie down now, for I own I am completely tired out."
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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11
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: Cortez.
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The expedition, whose arrival had caused such excitement in Mexico, was commanded by Hernando Cortez, a man who united in his person all the gifts requisite for a great leader of men. He possessed a handsome person, great strength and skill at arms, extraordinary courage and daring, singular powers of conciliation and of bringing others to his way of thinking, pleasing and courteous demeanor, a careless and easy manner which concealed great sagacity and wisdom, an inexhaustible flow of spirits, and an iron determination.
Born in Estremadura in 1485, of an ancient and respectable family, he was--like many others who have distinguished themselves as great soldiers--while at school and college remarkable rather for mischievous freaks, and disregard of authority, than for love of learning. At the age of seventeen he had exhausted his parents' patience, and was on the point of starting with the expedition of Ovando, the successor to Columbus, when he so injured himself by a fall, incurred in one of his wild escapades, that he was unable to sail with it. Two years later, however, he went out in a merchant vessel to the Indies.
On reaching Hispaniola Ovando, who was governor of the island, received him kindly, and gave him a grant of land and a number of Indians to till it. The quiet life of the planter, however, little suited the restless young fellow; and after taking part in several military expeditions against insurgent natives, under the command of Diego Velasquez, he sailed in 1511, with that officer, to undertake the conquest of Cuba.
He displayed great courage and activity during the campaign, and his cheerful manner and fund of high spirits made him a great favorite with the soldiers. When the fighting was over, Cortez soon became discontented with the quiet life in the island, and joined a party of men who were disaffected to Velasquez, owing to their not having received such rewards as they considered their services merited. Cortez undertook to carry their complaints to the Governor of Hispaniola, and was about starting when the matter came to the ears of Velasquez, who seized him, put him in irons, and threw him into prison. He was not long in making his escape, and sought sanctuary in a church; but a few days later, when carelessly strolling outside its walls, he was again seized and imprisoned.
He was put on board a ship to be sent to Hispaniola, there to be tried for exciting disaffection and revolt; but at night, before she set sail, he managed to free himself from his irons, gain the deck, and swim ashore, where he again took refuge in the church. Here several influential people interfered on his behalf--among them the family of Catalina Xuares, a young lady to whom he was engaged--and a reconciliation was brought about between him and the governor. Cortez received a large estate, with an ample number of Indians for its cultivation; married, and settled down, and for some years devoted himself to agriculture and gold mining.
Success attended him, and he accumulated some three thousand castalanos--a considerable sum. So he might have lived and died, had not the news of discoveries made by Grijalva--who had sailed west and discovered Yucatan, and traded with Tabasco, and had returned with a good deal of gold and wonderful tales of fabulous wealth, existing in a great nation farther to the north--caused an excitement in the islands. The governor at once prepared to fit out a large expedition, and among the many who offered to undertake its command, and to contribute largely towards its expenses, he finally selected Cortez, who had gained the ear and influence of the governor's secretary, Duero, and the royal treasurer, Lares.
Cortez was appointed captain general of the expedition, and at once set to work, with his accustomed energy, to gather material for it. He not only contributed all the fortune he had made, but raised funds by mortgaging his estates to their full value, and by borrowing money from merchants and others, on security of the wealth that was to be acquired by the expedition.
His personal popularity in the island enabled him to gather numerous recruits, and many of his intimate friends, who joined him, assisted him from their own resources or by raising money on their estates. Velasquez himself contributed comparatively little towards the expenses, which were almost entirely borne by Cortez and his friends.
Six ships were fitted out, and three hundred recruits enrolled. The instructions Cortez received were first to find Grijalva and, joining company with him, to visit Yucatan, and endeavor to rescue six Christians who were reported as still living there, the survivors of a vessel wrecked, years before, on the coast. He was to make a survey of the whole coastline, to acquaint himself with the natural productions of the country, and with the character and institutions of the native races. He was to barter with the natives, and to treat them with kindness and humanity, and to remember, above all things, that the object the emperor had most at heart was the conversion of the Indians. He was to invite them to give in their allegiance to the king, and to send such presents as would ensure his favor and protection. The governor gave no directions for colonizing or conquering, having received no warrant from Spain that would enable him to invest his agent with such powers.
But while Cortez was preparing to start, many of the leading men of the island, who were jealous of his rapid rise, roused the suspicions of Velasquez against him; saying that, when he had once sailed, he would no longer recognize the governor's authority, and would be thinking only of winning renown and wealth for himself. Velasquez determined to appoint another commander, but Duero and Lares, to whom he confided his intentions, at once informed Cortez of them. With the same promptitude that always distinguished him in moments of danger, Cortez went round to his officers after nightfall, got them and his men on board, visited the contractor, carried off all his stock of meat (giving him a massive gold chain in security for payment), and before daybreak the fleet left its moorings and the sails were hoisted.
As soon as the news was carried to Velasquez, he hurriedly dressed and rowed down to the shore. Cortez, when he saw him, got into a boat and rowed to within speaking distance.
"This is a courteous way of taking leave, indeed!" the angry governor said.
"I was pressed for time," Cortez replied. "There are some things that should be done even before they are thought of. Has your Excellency any orders?"
Velasquez saw, by the innuendo in the words of Cortez, that the latter was aware of his intention to deprive him of his command. He had no orders to give, for it was evident that Cortez would not obey them. The latter therefore returned to his vessel, and the fleet instantly set sail for the port of Macaca. This was in November, 1516.
The act of Cortez was doubtless one of insubordination; but, after he had embarked the whole of his resources in the expedition, and had received the command from the governor, this being ratified by the authorities of Hispaniola, it could hardly be expected that he would submit to disgrace and ruin being brought, not only upon himself, but upon all the friends who had aided him in the enterprise. At Macaca Cortez laid in some more stores, and then sailed for Trinidad, an important town on the southern coast of Cuba. Here he issued proclamations inviting recruits to join him. These came in in considerable numbers, among them a hundred men from Grijalva's ship, which had just before reached the port.
What was still more important, several cavaliers of high family and standing joined him: among them the Alvarados, Olid, Avila, Velasquez de Leon (a near relation of the governor), and Sandoval. He purchased at Trinidad large military stores and provisions. While he was taking these and other steps to strengthen his position, Verdugo, the commander of the town, received letters from Velasquez ordering him to seize Cortez; but upon his communicating these orders to the principal officers of the expedition, they pointed out to him that, if he attempted to take such a grave step, the soldiers and sailors would certainly resist it, and the town would not improbably be laid in ashes. The expedition then sailed round the island to Havana, where Cortez completed his preparations; and in spite of another ineffectual attempt of Velasquez to detain him, set sail.
In the time that had intervened between the inception of the expedition and its departure, the historians agree that a remarkable change had come over Cortez. He was still frank and pleasant in his manner, courteous and cheery with all; but he was no longer the gay, careless character who had been liked, but scarcely greatly respected, in the island. His whole actions were marked by an air of resolute determination and authority. He himself superintended every detail of work and exhibited a thoughtfulness, prudence, and caution that seemed alien to his former character. He was immensely popular both among his soldiers and officers, but all felt that he was entitled to their respect as well as their liking, and that he was not only commander, but thoroughly master, of the expedition.
Although extremely careless himself as to food, comfort, or appearance, he now assumed the state befitting his appointment and authority. He dressed handsomely but quietly, appointed officers and domestics for his household, and placed it on the footing of a man of high station. Before sailing he dispatched a letter to Velasquez, begging him to rely on his devotion to his interests.
On February 10th, 1519, the expedition started. It consisted of eleven vessels, only one of which was as large as a hundred tons; of a hundred and ten sailors, five hundred and fifty-three soldiers, and two hundred Indians of the islands. There were ten heavy guns and four light ones, and sixteen horses.
Before sailing, Cortez gave an address to his soldiers, and aroused their enthusiasm to the utmost. He had the advantage of obtaining the services, as chief pilot, of Alaminos, a veteran who had acted as pilot to Columbus on his last voyage, and to Grijalva in his late expedition. Soon after they started they met with a storm, and put in at the island of Cozumal; and Cortez thence sent Ordaz to Yucatan, to try to recover the captives said to be there. That officer returned without tidings, but before the fleet sailed a canoe arrived containing one of them, Aquilar, who had been wrecked there eight years previously. He had been a priest, and had so won the esteem and reverence of the barbarians among whom he lived, that they had with great reluctance allowed him to depart, in exchange for glass beads and other trinkets promised by Ordaz.
The fleet now sailed along the coast of Yucatan, until they reached the mouth of the Tabasco River, where Grijalva had carried on so profitable a trade. Leaving the ships at anchor they ascended the river in boats; but instead of meeting with the friendly reception that Grijalva had done, they found the banks lined with the natives, whose menacing attitude showed that a landing would be opposed.
After solemnly summoning them to surrender, Cortez landed. The natives fought bravely, but were unable to resist the astounding effect of the Spaniards' firearms; and the invaders, advancing, drove them back and took possession of the town, which was found to be deserted.
Two strong parties were sent out next morning to reconnoiter, but were attacked and driven back to the town. They reported that the whole country was under arms. Cortez was much vexed at finding himself thus engaged in a war, from which no benefit was to be gained; but he felt that it would impair the confidence of his troops, were he now to draw back. He therefore landed six of the guns and the horses, and the following day sallied out to the attack. Ordaz commanded the infantry, while Cortez himself led the little body of cavalry, the horses being mounted by the cavaliers of the party.
After marching a league, the infantry came in sight of the enemy. The natives attacked them as they were struggling through deeply irrigated ground, poured volleys of missiles of all kinds upon them, and wounded many before they could get across to solid ground, where they could bring the guns into play. But even these, and the discharges of musketry did not appall the natives, who pressed forward with such fury that, after the engagement had lasted an hour, the position of the Spaniards became perilous in the extreme.
But at this moment Cortez and his companions, who had been compelled to make a great detour, owing to the difficult nature of the ground, fell suddenly upon the rear of the enemy. The latter, who had never before seen horses, and who believed that horse and rider were the same animal, were seized with a sudden panic at this extraordinary apparition. The panic speedily communicated itself to the whole army, and while the cavalry trampled down and slaughtered many in the rear, the infantry charged, and the Indians fled in wild confusion.
Great numbers had fallen, whilst on the Christian side a few only were killed, and a hundred wounded. No pursuit was attempted. Cortez released the prisoners taken in battle, among whom were two chiefs, and sent them to their countrymen, with a message that he would forgive the past if they would at once come in and tender their submission; otherwise he would ride over the land, and put every living creature to the sword. The Tabascans, cowed by the dreadful thunder weapons, and by the astounding armed creatures that had fallen upon them, had no wish for further fighting, and the principal caziques soon came in with offerings to propitiate the Spaniards.
Among these were twenty female slaves--one of whom turned out a more valuable gift to the Spaniards than all the other presents, put together. Among the gifts were only a few small gold ornaments, and when asked where the metal was procured, they pointed to the northwest and said Mexico. As there was nothing to be done here, the Spaniards prepared to depart; but before doing so insisted on the people consenting to become Christians. As they had but little idea of what was required by them, and were in no mood for argument with the Spaniards, a solemn mass was held, at which the whole people became nominally Christians.
Re-embarking, the Spaniards sailed along the coast, until they reached the island of San Juan de Uloa, and anchored in the strait between it and the mainland. A canoe speedily came off from the latter, with presents of fruit and flowers, and small gold trinkets, which the natives willingly bartered with the Spaniards. Cortez was, however, unable to converse with them; for Aquilar, who had acted as interpreter with the Tabascans, was unable to understand their dialect. Presently, however, the female slaves informed him that one of their number, named Malinche, was a native of Mexico, and spoke that language as well as the tongue of the Tabascans. She was at once installed as interpreter--she informing Aquilar what the Mexicans said, and he interpreting it to Cortez. By this means he learned that the Indians were subjects of the great Mexican Empire, which was ruled over by a monarch named Montezuma, whose capital lay seventy leagues from the coast.
A strong force at once landed on the mainland, and threw up a fortified camp. The Mexicans came in, in crowds, with fruit, vegetables, flowers, and other articles, which they bartered with the Spaniards. They brought news that the Mexican governor of the province intended to visit them, the next day.
Before noon, he arrived with his numerous suite. A banquet was served to them, and then, in answer to the cazique's inquiries as to the objects of their visit, he was informed by Cortez that he was the subject of a great monarch beyond the seas, who ruled over a vast empire; and that, hearing of the greatness of the Mexican Emperor, he had sent him as an envoy, with a present in token of his goodwill, and a message which he must deliver in person. The cazique said that he would send couriers with the royal gift to Montezuma; and that, as soon as he had learned his will, he would communicate it.
He then presented ten slave loads of fine cottons, mantles of rich feather work, and a basket filled with gold ornaments to Cortez; who then handed over the presents intended for Montezuma. These consisted of a richly carved and painted armchair, a crimson cap with a gold medal, and a quantity of collars, bracelets, and other ornaments of cut glass.
Cortez observed one of the cazique's attendants busy sketching, and found that he was drawing the Spaniards, their costumes, and arms. This was the picture writing of the Aztecs, and the chief informed him that the pictures would be sent to Montezuma. In order to impress the monarch, Cortez ordered the cavalry to maneuver, and the cannon to be fired; and these exhibitions, as well as the ships, were faithfully depicted by the artist. The chief then took his leave.
Eight days later an embassy arrived from Montezuma, with an enormous quantity of extremely valuable presents--shields, helmets, cuirasses, collars and bracelets of gold; crests of variegated feathers sprinkled with pearls and precious stones; birds and animals in excellent workmanship in gold and silver; curtains, coverings, and robes of the finest cotton of rich colors, interwoven with marvelous feather work. Among the presents were two circular plates of gold and silver, as large as cartwheels--the value of the silver wheel was estimated at five thousand pounds, that of the gold one at fifty-five thousand.
The Spaniards were astounded at this display of treasure, and delighted at the prospect it opened to them. The ambassadors, however, brought a message from the emperor, saying that he regretted much that he could not have a personal interview with them, the distance from his capital being too great, and the journey beset with difficulties and dangers; and that all that could be done, therefore, was for them to return to their own land, with the proofs thus afforded of his friendly disposition.
Cortez was much mortified by the refusal, but requested the envoys to lay before the emperor his immense desire for a personal interview with him, and that the dangers of a short land journey were as nothing to one who had accomplished so long a voyage over the sea to see him. The Mexicans repeated their assurance that his application would be unavailing, and left with some coldness of manner. The effect of their displeasure at the insistence of the Spaniards was soon manifest, the natives ceasing to bring in provisions.
While awaiting the emperor's reply, the soldiers suffered greatly from the heat and the effluvia from the neighboring marshes. Thirty died, and as the anchorage was exposed to the northern gales, Cortez decided to sail north as soon as the answer to his last application was received, and sent off two vessels to see where a safe port could be found. Ten days after the departure of the envoys they returned with a large quantity of fresh presents, but with a positive refusal on the part of the emperor to allow them to advance near the capital, and a request that, now they had obtained what they most desired, they would at once return to their own country.
Four days later the ships returned, with the news that they had found but one sheltered port, and that the country round it was well watered and favorable for a camp.
The soldiers, however, were now growing discontented. The treasure already acquired was large, the unhealthiness of the climate had alarmed them, and the proofs of the wealth and greatness of the Mexican Empire had convinced them that it needed a vastly larger force than that which Cortez had under his orders to undertake an expedition against it; for the courage showed by the Tabascans had proved conclusively that, ill armed as they were, the natives were not to be despised.
Fortunately for Cortez, five Indians made their appearance in camp one morning. Their dress and appearance were wholly different from those of the Aztecs, and they spoke a different language, but Malinche--who had been baptized, and christened Marina, by Father Olmedo, the leading priest of the expedition--found that two of them could converse in Aztec. They said that they were Totonacs, and had come from Cempoalla, their capital. They had been but recently conquered by the Aztecs, and were so oppressed by them that they were anxious to throw off their yoke, and they came to ask the wonderful strangers, of whom they had heard, to visit them.
Cortez at once saw the immense importance of the communication. Hitherto he had regarded the Mexican Empire as a great and united power, against which success with so small a force was impossible; but now that he saw it was composed of subjugated peoples, many of whom would gladly ally themselves with him against their conquerors, the enterprise wore a far more hopeful aspect. He dismissed the Indians with presents, and a promise to visit their country, shortly.
He talked the matter over with his principal friends, who were as reluctant as he was, himself, to abandon the enterprise and return to Cuba, where the governor would appropriate the largest share of the spoils they had taken. They accordingly went about among the soldiery, urging them to persuade the general to establish a permanent colony in the country. It was true that he had no authority from Velasquez to do so, but the interests of the emperor and of Spain--to say nothing of their own--were of more importance than those of the Governor of Cuba.
This talk reached the ears of the special friends and adherents of Velasquez; who, going to Cortez, remonstrated with him against such proceedings. He said that nothing was farther from his desires than to exceed his instructions, and on the following morning issued a proclamation to the troops, ordering them to prepare for embarkation. The sensation caused among the troops was great, and his partisans thronged round his tent, calling upon him to countermand his orders and form a settlement. Cortez, after due hesitation, gave in to their wishes, nominated magistrates, and proclaimed the territory a colony of Spain. As soon as the new magistrates and officers came together, Cortez came before them and tendered his resignation of his office as captain general, but was re-nominated not only captain general, but Chief Justice of the colony.
The partisans of Velasquez were most indignant at the whole proceedings, and so violent were some of the leaders that Cortez put them in irons, and sent them on board ship. Then he set to work with the soldiers, and soon brought them round; and the prisoners on board being also won over, the whole army, re-embarking, sailed up the coast until they reached the port before discovered and, landing, set out for Cempoalla.
They were delighted with the country, which was rich and fertile; and as they neared the town, the natives poured out with lively demonstrations of welcome, the women throwing garlands of flowers round the necks of the soldiers. They were greatly struck with the town, although it was but a small place in comparison with those they were afterwards to see. Cortez lost no time in sending off a vessel to Spain, with dispatches to the emperor; and his influence over the soldiers was so great that they, as well as the officers, relinquished all their shares of the treasure they had gained, in order that a worthy present should be sent home to their monarch.
In his dispatches Cortez related all that had befallen them, dilated on the prospect of annexing so rich a country to the Spanish dominions, and asked for a confirmation of his acts, and for an authorization for the magistrates of the new town, which was called Villa Rica de Vera Cruz. The ship touched at Cuba, but continued its voyage before Velasquez, who was furious at the news of the important discoveries made by Cortez, could stop it.
Scarcely had the ship sailed when Cortez discovered that a conspiracy was on foot, among the partisans of Velasquez, to seize one of the vessels and to sail away to Cuba. The conspirators were seized, two of them executed and others flogged; but the discovery that there were a number of timid spirits in the camp, who might seriously interfere with his plans, greatly annoyed Cortez, and he took the extraordinary resolution of destroying all the ships. Through some of his devoted friends he bribed the captains of the vessels to fall in with his views; and they appeared before him, and made a solemn report that the ships were worm eaten and unfit for sea. Cortez pretended great surprise, and ordered everything movable to be brought ashore, and the ships to be sunk.
Nine vessels were so destroyed, and but one small craft was left afloat. When the news reached the troops at Cempoalla, they were filled with consternation. It seemed to them that nothing but destruction awaited them, and from murmurings they broke out into mutiny.
Cortez however, as usual, speedily allayed the tumult. He pointed out that his loss was the greatest, since the ships were his property; and that the troops would in fact derive great advantage by it, since it would swell their force by a hundred men, who must otherwise have remained in charge of the vessels. He urged them to place their confidence in him, and they might rely upon it that success would attend their efforts. If there were any cowards there, they might take the remaining ship and sail to Cuba with it, and wait patiently there until the army returned, laden with the spoils of the Aztecs.
The troops at once returned to their duty, and declared their readiness to follow him, wheresoever he would. Without further delay, Cortez, taking with him a number of natives to act as carriers, set out on his march towards Mexico.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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12
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: The Fugitives.
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At nightfall Roger and his guide continued their journey, but now moved with great caution, keeping but a short distance from the road. Several times they saw fires burning, and had to take long detours to avoid them. Consequently the moon had set when they were still more than ten miles from the pass. Next morning they continued their journey, avoiding as much as possible crossing tracts of cultivated land; and when forced to do so, lying down and crawling between the rows of the maize or yuccas.
"They are sure to have scouts, high up on the mountainside," Bathalda said; "and they thence can look down upon all these fields; and although, as we cross them we are perfectly hidden from people standing on the same level, they can see us clearly enough from there."
"The distance is very great to make out a man."
"The air is very clear, my lord, in these mountains; and a figure can be seen a vast distance off. However, we can do nothing but what we are doing, and must take our chance."
"If we are attacked," Roger said, "we must make straight up the mountains. Steep as they may be, there are few places where active men cannot climb, and numbers would avail nothing if we once got up among those heights."
They were now mounting rapidly towards the pass. The country was still thickly wooded, but Bathalda said that in the narrowest part of the pass there were no trees, and it was here that the danger would be greatest.
As they neared the mouth of the gorge they moved with the greatest care, keeping their eyes in every direction. Presently Bathalda stopped, and held up his hand. Roger listened.
"They are coming behind us," Bathalda said. "They must have made us out in the distance, and have sent a party down the road to enter the wood behind us, and so prevent us from retreating."
"Then we had better bear away to the left, Bathalda. They are sure to be in force in the pass; and since they are behind us, also, our only hope is to try and scale the hill to the left."
Bathalda, without a word, moved forward in the direction indicated. The trees grew thinner in front, and through them they could see rocky ground rising steeply up. They issued out and began to climb, when the sound of a horn rose loudly in the air, and a moment afterwards a number of men were seen, running from the right along the edge of the trees.
"They will not shoot," Roger said. "They want to take me alive. Never mind their arrows, it is a question of legs, at present."
The rocks were extremely steep, and in many places they had to use their hands, as well as their feet, in making the ascent. The Aztecs, who had on first seeing them broken into loud cries, were now silent, and were toiling up the hillside in pursuit.
"Now," Roger said, after a very severe piece of climbing, "we must stop them."
He strung his bow and, placing an arrow to the string, shouted to the Aztecs that he should shoot unless they desisted from pursuit. They paid no attention, their officer shouting to them to press on. They were now less than a hundred yards behind.
Roger drew his bow to the fullest, and the arrow whizzed through the air. It struck the officer in the throat, and he fell prone. A cry of astonishment broke from the soldiers; however they did not hesitate a moment, but pushed on with loud shouts. Roger discharged six arrows in rapid succession, and five of them flew true to the mark.
The Aztecs paused, the distance to which the arrows were sent, and the accuracy of the shooting struck them with consternation; and it was evident to them that before they could climb the steep ascent, the greater portion of them would be shot down. Some took shelter behind rocks, and began to discharge their arrows. Others fell back in haste.
"Now we will be moving on again, Bathalda," Roger said. "We have taught them a lesson of caution."
They proceeded on their way, until they reached a shoulder which led straight up the mountain. Just as they stopped to draw breath there was a shout, and a party of twenty men, who had evidently climbed straight up from the pass to cut them off, rushed at them. Roger rapidly discharged five arrows into the midst of them, and then slipped the string from the notch, and seized the bamboo as a quarterstaff.
At the order of their leader, the Aztecs threw down their spears and flung themselves on him, with the intention of dragging him to the ground; but making his quarterstaff swing round his head, he brought the ends down upon them with tremendous force, striking them to the ground as if they had been ninepins. Bathalda seconded him well, by guarding him from attack behind.
Finding that, in spite of his efforts, he could not keep back his assailants, Roger threw down the quarterstaff and seized his ax. Four more of them fell, cleft through the head; and then four of them sprang upon him together, but Roger's practice in Devonshire wrestling now stood him in good service; and although in a moment the four were hanging upon him, they could neither get him off his legs, nor hold his arms; and he beat three of them down with heavy blows on their faces, while Bathalda freed him from one on his back, by a thrust with his spear.
Roger again caught up the ax, which he had let fall to have the use of both of his fists, but the fight was over. The five Aztecs still remaining on their feet, appalled at the, to them, supernatural strength of their gigantic foe, fled to join their comrades, who had now nearly reached the crest on which the combat had taken place.
"Come on, Bathalda," Roger exclaimed. "We have not a moment to lose. They will shoot now, seeing that they have little chance of taking me alive."
And they accordingly started up the steep ascent, as rapidly as their breathless condition would allow. Their pursuers paused a moment on gaining the brow to get their wind, and then followed; but as soon as the ground again became too steep to allow of rapid movement, Roger turned and, betaking himself to his bow and arrows, speedily checked the pursuit; the Aztecs being unable to stand against these terrible weapons, whose force and accuracy seemed to them supernatural.
The sight, too, of the heap of their comrades lying on the slope had greatly cooled their courage. Their officers had all fallen under Roger's arrows, together with most of their bravest comrades; and although the rest still continued the pursuit, it was at a distance that showed that they had no intention, whatever, of closing again.
Paying no further heed to them, Roger and his companion now directed their whole attention to the work of climbing. At times they came on perpendicular precipices, and had to make long detours to surmount them. After some hours' labor they reached the snow. They were now near a shoulder between two lofty peaks, and after an hour's climbing stood on its crest. The Aztecs were now mere spots, far behind them.
"They will be an hour before they are here," Roger said. "We need fear no more trouble with them. It was a sharp fight while it lasted, Bathalda."
These were the first words they had spoken, beyond a momentary consultation, now and then, as to the best mode of surmounting difficulties.
"My lord is wonderful," the hunter said. "Never did I see such strength and skill. It was like a mountain tiger attacked by jackals."
"You did your share, too, Bathalda. Your spear rid me of several of them."
"I did what I could, my lord; but that was little enough. A few men like you would defeat an army."
"Well, Bathalda, now we will be moving on again. We will keep straight down this slope, until we are off the snow; for they can follow our footsteps. Beyond that we must press on until we get into the woods again, and there we can turn right or left, as we please, and throw them off the scent altogether. We shall then be safe until we leave the forest, and begin to descend into the hot country."
Another hour, and they had left the snow behind them; and after two more hours on the rocky hillside, they again entered a forest. As soon as they were well among the trees, they turned to the right again, and after traveling through the wood for two or three miles they halted, secure now against any search on the part of their pursuers.
Just before halting they had the good luck to come across a small bear, which Roger wounded with an arrow, and his companion dispatched with his spear. Bathalda speedily made a fire by rubbing two sticks together, and after skinning the bear, cut it up; and while Roger was superintending the roasting of some pieces over the fire, Bathalda searched in the wood, and speedily returned with some roots, which he placed in the ashes, and which turned out excellent eating with the bear's flesh.
As it was now far on in the afternoon, and as they had already performed a very fatiguing day's work, they resolved to wait where they were until the morning.
"What do you think would be our best course, now?" Roger asked, after they had eaten their meal, and were stretched close to the fire for warmth--for at this elevation the cold was great.
Bathalda did not reply, but sat pouring out volumes of smoke from the pipe he had just filled. At last Roger repeated the question.
"I am ready to go where my lord wills."
"Yes, Bathalda; but that is no answer to my question. You know the ways of your people, and I do not. We have had a sharp fight with them today. What is likely to come of it?"
Bathalda shook his head.
"The news will, long before this, have been sent by swift runners to every town and village on this slope of the mountains. The garrisons of Perote, Tlatlanquitepec, Xalapa, and Naulinco will all be in movement. Naulinco is but some eight or ten miles away down the pass; and not only the soldiers, but every man in the town will be ordered out. They will be posted as thick as blades of grass at the mouth of every valley leading down from the mountains.
"You have resisted the emperor's officers, and have killed numbers of his soldiers. They will know that the wrath of Montezuma will be terrible, if they fail to arrest you."
"Then you think that it will almost be impossible to make our way through them?"
Bathalda nodded his head.
"And in time, I suppose, they will search these woods?"
"Every foot of them, wide though they are, my lord."
"Then what is your advice, Bathalda?"
"It depends whether my lord's mind is altogether set upon joining the white men of the sea, at once."
Roger, in turn, was silent for a time. The Spaniards would have learned the wealth of the land. It was not likely they would speedily depart; but if they did, it would only be to return again, in far greater force than at present. Other opportunities would occur for rejoining them, and it would be folly to throw away his life, and that of his companion, in an attempt that the latter evidently felt to be desperate. He had already had proof of the vigilance of the Aztec scouts, and doubtless that vigilance would now be redoubled.
"No, Bathalda," he replied at last; "I should be content to remain in hiding for a time, and to risk the departure of the white men."
"Then, my lord, my advice is, that we retrace our steps across to the other side of the mountains. Then we will head north, avoiding the towns, and take refuge for a time in the forests, that stretch for many leagues over the mountains. There we can build a hut and hunt. There are turkeys and other game in abundance. From time to time I can go down to a town and gather news, and bring back such things as may be necessary for you. Then, when the search for you abates, we can strike down thence to the seacoast, if the white men are still there. At any rate, we can live by hunting as long as you may find it necessary to remain in concealment."
"That will be by far the best plan, Bathalda. I have no objection to a few weeks of life in the woods, and you can teach me your craft of a hunter. What do you say: shall we start back this evening?"
"If my lord is not too wearied, it would be well if we could get across the crest before morning. They will have sentries at every point whence they can command a view of the hills; and our figures could be made out, on the snow, at a great distance away."
"I should have preferred a night's rest, Bathalda; but it would be foolish to lose a day, and no doubt parties will be searching the woods in the morning. We have still four hours before the sun goes down, and that should be enough to fit us for starting again."
The hunter was pleased at Roger's decision.
"Let my lord sleep at once," he said. "I will watch. I am accustomed to long journeys, and to pass my nights in search of game. It is nothing to me. I used dry sticks for the fire, and but little smoke will have made its way through the trees. Still it may possibly be noticed, and it were best one of us should remain on watch."
Roger felt that he should never be able to make the ascent over the crest of the hill, unless he had some rest; and therefore, without argument, he wrapped himself in his cotton mantle, and lay down before the fire.
It seemed to him that he had but just closed his eyes, when his companion touched him.
"It is time that we should be moving, my lord. The sun has just set."
"Why, it appears to me to be night already, Bathalda."
"It has been dark here for the last hour, my lord; but on the other side of the mountains the sun has but now gone down. See, the full moon has just risen in the east."
"That is so, Bathalda; and we shall have her light till morning. Well, I am ready, though I could have slept on comfortably until sunrise. Have you heard anything?"
"I have heard the sound of horns, far down the hillside; but nothing near us save animals, disturbed by the voices below, and passing up towards the rocks. I have cooked some more flesh. It is always best to make a good meal when one can. We have a rough journey before us, and the cold will be great. Fortunately, the air is still. Were it blowing, I should say that there was less danger in waiting here than in crossing the mountain."
The meal was quickly eaten. Bathalda slung a large piece of bear's flesh over his shoulder, and they started. So bright was the moonlight that they had no more difficulty in climbing than if it had been day, and after six hours of severe toil they again came down upon the forest, on the other side of the mountains.
They proceeded among the trees for some little distance, till they came to some very thick undergrowth, where Bathalda thought it would be perfectly safe to light a fire. This he accordingly did, as Roger said he would rather run any danger than go without a fire.
In spite of the exertions they had made, they were chilled to the bone. Their clothes were stiff with the frozen moisture from their bodies, and the cotton mantles offered but small protection against the cold. A pleasant glow stole over them, as the fire burnt up.
"I will watch now, Bathalda, and you shall sleep."
"I do not think that there is any danger, my lord. They believe us among the woods on the other side of the mountains, and it is not at all likely there will be any vigilant watch kept upon this side. We can both sleep without fear."
Roger was glad to hear his companion's opinion, and in a few minutes was fast asleep.
When he awoke it was day. Bathalda was cooking some flesh over the embers of the fire.
"You have been asleep, I hope, Bathalda?" Roger said, as he rose to his feet and shook himself.
"I have slept, my lord," the hunter said, although in fact it was not until morning began to break that he had relaxed his watchfulness. "We will be off as soon as we have eaten. It is possible that parties may, as soon as it is daybreak, go along by the edge of the snow line, to assure themselves that we are still on the other side of the mountain; and if so, they will probably come across our footsteps--therefore we had best be moving, at once."
Two long days' marches took them deep into the woods lying north of Tlatlanquitepec. Here they set to work to construct a rough hut of boughs, near a mountain spring; and when this was completed, they set to work hunting.
Turkeys abounded. These they generally obtained by shooting them at night, as they roosted in the trees; but they sometimes hunted them by day, Bathalda imitating their call so accurately that they came up within easy shot of them, without the least suspicion of danger. They killed several small bears, which were useful, not only for their flesh, but for the warmth of their skins at night. Once or twice they shot deer, and obtained other game in abundance.
At night they frequently heard the roar of the mountain tiger. Once or twice, when the sounds approached too close to their hut, they left it and took refuge in trees, as the hunter said that even Roger's arrows would scarcely slay these fierce beasts at once; and that, when wounded, they were terrible enemies.
Roger enjoyed the life much. The air was fresh and bracing, the forest magnificent in its varied foliage, and the abundance of game so great that it needed no special exertion to keep themselves well supplied with food. Two or three times, at intervals of a week or ten days, Bathalda went down to Tlatlanquitepec, with a load of turkeys and other game slung on a pole over his shoulder, and returned with maize, flour, chocolate, and pulque, and other articles of food; and--which was of much greater importance to Roger--news of the white strangers.
The first time he learned that they had arrived in several floating castles, and had landed at once. The natives had received them with kindness, and the chief of that district, Teuhtlile, had on the following day had an interview with their chief. Presents had been exchanged. Five days later an embassy, with many very rich gifts from the emperor, arrived at the camp. They were the bearers of friendly messages from Montezuma; who, however, had declined to allow them to proceed into the country, and had requested them to leave the coast at once. The white men had sent back a message to Montezuma praying him to alter his determination, and showed no signs of obeying his orders, and re-embarking on board their ships. By the orders of Montezuma's envoys, the people had now abstained from visiting the camp, or bringing in supplies.
Three weeks after, Bathalda returned from the town with the news that another embassy from Montezuma had visited the white camp, with another great store of valuable presents; but that Montezuma positively prohibited them advancing towards the capital. Two days later they were visited by envoys from Cempoalla, the chief town of the Totonacs, who had been lately conquered by the Aztecs, and had invited the white men to visit their city. They had accordingly marched there, and were now dwelling in this town. It was said that the Aztecs were extremely indignant at the action of the Totonacs, and that dire vengeance would be taken upon them, for daring to act in this manner without the permission of Montezuma.
The next news was, that the white men had marched farther north to Chiahuitztla, that they were founding a city there, and that they had actually seized and imprisoned a party of Aztec envoys. The white men had visited other towns, and at Cempoalla had insulted the gods, rolled the idols down from the tops of the temples, and had erected altars to their own gods there.
This act had created a profound impression throughout the country; and the greatest astonishment was felt that Montezuma did not, at once, put his armies in motion to crush these profane and insolent strangers. A still greater sensation had been caused by the news that the Spaniards had destroyed all their floating castles, and that it was therefore evident that they intended to remain, permanently, in the land.
This news greatly surprised Roger. The reports were unanimous that there were, at the utmost, but three or four hundred of the Whites; and that the Spaniards should dream of matching themselves against the whole force of Mexico, seemed almost incredible.
"How do the white men communicate with the natives?" Roger asked.
"They have with them some slaves, whom they obtained at Tabasco. Among them was one who was a Mexican by race. They say that the white men speak to another white man who understands the language of Tabasco, and that he speaks to this young woman, who speaks in Mexican what she is told. She is treated with great honor by the white men."
"What is her name--did you hear?"
"The natives say she is called Malinche, but the white men call her Marina."
"That is good news, indeed, Bathalda," Roger said; "for when I was at Tabasco, I knew a Mexican slave girl of that name, and if it is the same she will befriend us."
It was nearly three weeks before Roger again obtained news. Bathalda had injured his leg in a fall down a precipice, while stalking a deer; and was obliged to lie up in the hut for more than a fortnight. As soon as he was well enough to get about again, he joined Roger in a turkey hunt, and started the next day for the city.
He returned with surprising news. The white men had marched from the coast through Naulinco and the Pass of Obispo. They had been everywhere well received by the natives, who all belonged to the Totonac tribe. They had gone to Yxtacamaxtitlan, a great city, where they had stayed three days. They had then marched on towards Tlascala, the republic that had so long resisted the strength of all Mexico.
They were said to number four hundred foot and fifteen strange creatures, who were partly man and partly some fleet animal; and they had seven great black tubes that made thunder. Thirteen hundred Totonac fighting men accompanied them, and a thousand porters to drag the tubes and carry their baggage. They had sent embassies to the Tlascalans, but the latter had chosen war, and there had been some terrible battles fought. But the white men were invincible, and had defeated the Tlascalans with great slaughter; and the news had arrived, only that morning, that they had captured the city.
The sensation throughout the country was that of stupefaction. It seemed absolutely incredible that a state which had successfully defied the armies of Montezuma and his predecessors should, after four or five days of fighting, be overthrown by this handful of white strangers. There seemed but one comfort. It was said that several of the Whites had been killed, and this showed, at least, that they were not superhuman creatures, and that it might yet be possible to destroy them.
No sooner did Roger hear the news than he determined to start, at once, to join the Spaniards, who were already far to the west. Accordingly, the next morning at daybreak, he started with Bathalda, and late on the following afternoon arrived in sight of Tlascala. They thought it better not to enter the city until the following morning, and therefore passed the night in a clump of bushes.
The next day they boldly entered the town. The city was a large one, divided into four quarters separated by lofty walls, and each ruled over by one of the four great chiefs of the republic. Its population was very large, and the town was strongly and solidly built.
At ordinary times the appearance of two seeming Aztecs in the streets would have been the signal for their instant destruction, but at the present time the people were solely occupied with the presence of their white conquerors; with whom, as Roger soon learned, they had made treaties of friendship, and whom they now viewed as friends and allies.
The whole of the Spaniards were lodged in one of the palaces. The crowd of people proceeding in that direction was a sufficient index to its position; and Roger and his companion, joining the throng, were soon in front of the palace. Some Spanish soldiers were standing as sentries at its gate, but none came out or mixed with the people--Cortez having given the strictest orders that they should remain in their quarters, as he feared that, did they go abroad, some brawl might arise between them and the inhabitants, and so break the newly-formed alliance, which was of the most extreme importance to them.
Presently some Spanish officers, and several richly dressed chiefs, came out from the palace. The people raised a shout, and it was evident to Roger that, in spite of the terrible losses suffered by their troops in the attacks upon the white men, their admiration for their visitors far outweighed any animosity for the defeats inflicted upon them.
Near the officer, whom Roger judged to be the leader of the expedition, were an elderly man and a young woman. The Spaniard addressed the old man, who spoke to the girl, and she translated it to the chiefs.
Roger recognized her at once--it was certainly his friend, the slave girl of Tabasco. In the eight months since he had seen her, she had grown to complete womanhood; and now--richly attired as she was, and evidently regarded as a person of great importance, both by the Spaniards and the native chiefs--carried herself with an air of confidence and pride; and was, Roger thought, the most beautiful woman he had seen in Mexico.
As the party moved down the steps of the palace, and along the street, evidently discoursing on some important business, Roger followed them closely. He waited until Malinche happened, for a moment, to be at the outside of the party, then he pressed forward and said to her: "Malinche, do you remember your white friend?"
She looked up, and would have cried out with astonishment, had he not touched his lips.
"I want to speak to you alone, first. Where can I meet you?"
"In an hour I shall be able to slip away from their meal," she said; "be near the palace gate."
Roger at once fell back into the crowd, and soon took an opportunity to extricate himself from it, and to go down a side street. He and Bathalda then ascended to the top of the wall, where they were likely to be undisturbed, and waited there for an hour. They then went back to the palace.
The square in the front of it was almost deserted now; for the Spaniards had retired, half an hour before, and were not likely to appear again until the evening; especially as it was known that, at noon, there was to be a great council held in the palace.
Ten minutes later Malinche appeared at the entrance. As soon as her eyes fell on Roger she raised her hand and, leaving Bathalda, he at once went up to her. The two sentinels looked with some surprise at this tall native, but as they saw that he was known to Malinche, they offered no opposition to his entering the palace with her.
She led him down some corridors and then out into a garden. As soon as she saw that they were in a spot where they could not be overlooked, she turned and seized his hands; and would have pressed them to her forehead, had not Roger prevented her doing so, and put her hands to his lips.
"Ah!" she exclaimed. "How happy you have made me, today! I have wondered so much how it has fared with you, and have dreamed at night, so often, that you were being sacrificed on the altars of the gods."
"I have thought of you very often, also, Malinche; and I was surprised, indeed, when I heard that you--for I felt sure that it was you--were with the Spaniards, and were not only an interpreter, but in high honor with them."
"But why do you not join them?" she asked. "Why do you come to me first? What can I do for you? I will take you at once to Cortez, and when I tell him that you were my friend, and were so kind and good to the slave girl, he will welcome you most warmly."
"Yes, Malinche; but that is why I wanted to see you first alone. You remember that I told you all about the Spaniards, and how they owned the islands, and would some day surely come to Mexico; but that I belong to another white people, who are forbidden by the Spaniards, under pain of death, to come to these parts. They must not know that I am not of their nation.
"You see, I cannot speak their tongue. I see that you have learned it fast, for I saw Cortez speaking to you."
"What are we to do, then?" the girl asked, with a puzzled look. "When they find that you cannot speak their language, they will, of course, see that you are not of their people."
"Yes, Malinche; but they might think that I had forgotten it. That is just where I want you to help me. If you take me to Cortez, and tell him that, years ago, a ship was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco, and that all were drowned except a little white boy; and that he was brought up at Tabasco, and that you were great friends with him, until he was sold to some Mexican traders--they will think that I have altogether forgotten my native language. They are not likely to ask you how many years ago it is, or how big I was then, and will imagine that I was quite a child, and that I belonged to a Spanish ship, for they will not dream of an English vessel having been in these parts. When you introduce me to Cortez, you must tell him that I have quite forgotten the language, save a few words--for I picked up a few sentences when in their ports."
"They will easily believe that you may have been wrecked," said Malinche; "for they rescued a man who had been living many years among a tribe at Yucatan, to the west of Tabasco. There were other white men living among them, though these they could not recover. You saw him by me this morning--he is an old man, a priest; and he translates from the Spanish into the Yucatan dialect, which is so like that of Tabasco that I can understand it, and then I tell the people in Mexican.
"There will be no difficulty at all. Cortez and the Spaniards know that I love them, and they trust me altogether, and I am able to do good to my country people, and to intercede with them sometimes with Cortez. Now tell me what has happened since I last saw you."
Roger gave her a sketch of what had happened in Mexico, and how he had escaped, by flight, from being sacrificed.
"It is terrible--these sacrifices," Malinche said, shuddering. "I did not think so in the old days, but I have learned better from the Spaniards and from their priests; and I rejoice that the white men will destroy these horrible idols, and will teach the people to worship the great God and His Son. They will suffer--my heart bleeds to think how they will suffer--but it will be good for them in the end, and put a stop to rivers of blood that flow, every year, at their altars."
Although Roger was not imbued with the passion for conversion which animated the Spaniards, and led them to believe that it was the most glorious of all duties to force their religion upon the natives, he had been so filled with horror at the wholesale sacrifices of human victims, and the cannibal feasts that followed them, that he was in no way disposed to question the methods which the Spaniards adopted to put a stop to such abominations. But for the friendship of Cacama he would himself, assuredly, have been a victim to these sanguinary gods.
He and his father had--like the Beggs, and many other of his friends at Plymouth--been secretly followers of Wycliffe, but they were still Catholics. They believed that there were many and deep abuses in the Church, but had no thought of abandoning it altogether. The doings of the Inquisition in Spain were regarded by all Englishmen with horror, but these excesses were as nothing to the wholesale horrors of the Mexican religion.
He talked for some time with Malinche, and saw that she was completely devoted to the Spaniards, and regarded Cortez as a hero, almost more than mortal; and was in no slight degree relieved at observing that, although ready to be friendly in every way, and evidently still much attached to him, the warmer feeling which she had testified at their parting no longer existed, but had been transferred to her present friends and protectors.
"Come with me," she said at last. "The meal will be over, now. I will take you to an apartment near the banqueting hall, and will leave you there while I tell Cortez about you, and will then lead you to him."
Seeing how confident Malinche was as to the reception she could procure for him, Roger awaited her return, to the chamber where she had placed him, with little anxiety. In a quarter of an hour she returned, and beckoned him to follow.
"I have told him," she said. "It did not seem to him strange that some vessel should have been driven by the storms and wrecked here. He asked no questions as to how many years ago it was. I told him you were a young boy at the time, and have forgotten all but a few words of the language; and how, when you grew to be a man, you were sold to some Mexican merchants, and would have been sacrificed to the gods had you not made your escape. As I had told him, before, that there had been a white man living at Tabasco, who had been very good to me, he was not surprised at the story."
She took Roger to an apartment in which Cortez, and several of his principal officers, were standing. As Malinche had told them that he was painted, and disguised as a native, they were not surprised at his appearance; although his height, which was far beyond that attained by Spaniards, somewhat astonished them.
Roger approached the group, and at once fell on one knee before Cortez, took his hand and kissed it. Cortez raised him, and embraced him warmly.
"I am delighted to find another of my countrymen," he said; "and all the more, since Marina tells me that she knows you well, and that you were most kind and good to her."
"Senor," Roger said, in broken Spanish, "I do not understand. I have forgotten."
"You will soon recover it," Cortez said.
"Tell him, Aquilar, that he will soon learn to speak his native language again."
The interpreter repeated the words to Roger in the Yucatan dialect, adding that he himself had been a prisoner for eight years among the natives; and that, although a man when captured by them, had with difficulty spoken Spanish when restored to his friends; but it had now quite come back to him.
"You were but a boy when you were wrecked, Marina tells me?" Cortez said.
"Only a boy," Roger repeated, when Marina translated this to him.
"Do you remember anything of Spain?" Cortez asked.
Roger shut his eyes, as if considering.
"I seem to have a remembrance," he said, "of a place with many great ships. It was a city built on a rock rising from the sea. It had high walls with great guns upon them, which fired sometimes, with a terrible noise, when vessels came in and out."
When this was translated by Aquilar, Cortez said: "It was Cadiz, of course. Doubtless the ship he was wrecked in sailed from that port."
A murmur of assent passed round the other Spaniards.
"Show him a cross, Aquilar. See if he remembers his religion."
Aquilar took out a cross from under his doublet, and held it out towards Roger, who, after looking at it for a moment, fell on his knees and kissed it.
"He remembers much, you see," Cortez said. "Father Aquilar, you will succeed soon in making a good Catholic of him, again.
"Well, gentlemen, I think we may congratulate ourselves upon this new companion. Every arm is of assistance; and if he is as brave as he is big and strong, he will prove a doughty comrade. Besides, he will be able to tell us something of Mexico; although, as Marina says, he was only once at the capital.
"Question him, Aquilar, and find out from him whether its magnificence is as great as we hear."
Roger told all he knew of the capital, and said that, although he himself could not say more than that it was a great city, he had heard that its population was nearly three hundred thousand; and that it certainly seemed to him fully three times as large as that of Tezcuco, where he said there were one hundred thousand people.
"And it stands on an island in a lake?" Cortez asked.
"There are three causeways leading to the land, each wide enough for six horsemen to ride abreast," Roger replied; "but it would be a difficult thing to force an entrance, by these, in the face of Montezuma's army."
"Well, gentlemen," Cortez said, "it is time for us to be going to the council.
"Marina, do you take your friend to my private apartment, and bid Juan furnish him with a suit of clothes; and with armor, from that belonging to our friends who fell in the fights the other day. We will soon make a true cavalier of him."
As soon as Roger was equipped, he went out to the steps of the palace, and presently descried Bathalda in the crowd. He beckoned to him and, taking him into the garden, had a long talk with him. He would have rewarded him largely for his services, but Bathalda refused to accept anything.
"I came at my lord's orders," he said; "and am rejoiced to have been of service to one who is at once so kind, so strong, and so valiant."
"As you will. We shall have further opportunities of meeting, Bathalda. Do you now make your way back to Tezcuco. Tell your lord all that has happened, and that I am with the Spaniards, and shall accompany them if, as I believe, they go forward to Mexico; that I hope to see all my friends again, before long; and that I always think of their kindness to me."
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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13
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: The Massacre Of Cholula.
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The Tlascalans had, from the moment when they admitted themselves beaten by the Spaniards, laid aside all hostility; and had, indeed, accepted the alliance with enthusiasm. They had a right to be proud of their own valor, for they had resisted all the attempts of the great Aztec monarchy to conquer them, and had defeated, with slaughter, greatly superior forces; and that a mere handful of white men should be able to withstand their attacks, day after day, and to defeat their best and hardiest troops, led by generals who had hitherto been always successful, excited their surprise and admiration in the highest degree. They were not gods, they knew, for some had been killed in the conflict; but as men they seemed to them infinitely superior, in strength and courage, to any that they had before heard of; and they were proud to enter into an alliance with such heroes. Moreover, they saw they would now have an opportunity of turning the tables upon their enemies of the plains.
They did not believe, for a moment, that Montezuma would admit the white men to his capital, and in that case there would be great battles, and perhaps much plunder to be gained; and therefore, when the Spaniards were again ready to advance, the whole fighting force of Tlascala was placed at their disposal. Cortez, however, declined to take with him so large an army. The appearance of such a force, composed of the bitter foes of the Aztecs, would have combined against him the whole strength of that empire, and would have destroyed any hope that might remain of peaceful arrangements. Moreover, the difficulty of feeding so large a body of men would be great, indeed; and as his authority over them would be but feeble, constant broils with the Aztecs would be the inevitable result. He therefore, with many thanks, declined the offer; but said that he would gladly take with him a force of six thousand volunteers.
The first march was to be to Cholula, whose people had sent a warm invitation to Cortez to visit them; and Montezuma, by his last envoys, also requested them to journey forward by way of that city.
The Tlascalans had strongly urged him to refuse the invitation. The Cholulans were, they said, a treacherous people and not to be trusted. They were bigoted beyond the people of other cities, Cholula being the holy city of Anahuac. It was here the god Quetzalcoatl had remained for twenty years on his way down to the coast, instructing the people in the arts of civilization. Here was the great temple of the god, a pyramid whose base covered forty-four acres, and whose height was a hundred and eighty feet; the platform on its summit, where the sacrifices took place, being an acre in size.
Cortez, however, decided upon visiting Cholula. He deemed the reports of the Tlascalans to be prejudiced, as there was a long-standing animosity between the two peoples; and he thought that, were he to avoid visiting this important town, which lay almost on his road to Mexico, it might be set down by the Aztecs to distrust or fear.
The departure from Tlascala was witnessed by the whole of the population of the state, who assembled to bid the white men farewell, and to wish them success upon their way. A day's march took them to within a mile or two of Cholula. Here they were met by many nobles from the city, who urged them to enter it that evening; but Cortez, bearing in mind the warnings he had received, and thinking it dangerous to enter the streets of an unknown and possibly hostile city after dark, declined to move forward until morning. Seeing the hostility and distrust excited in the minds of his visitors at the sight of the Tlascalans in his camp, he ordered his allies to remain in camp when he advanced in the morning, and to join him only when he left the city on his way to Mexico.
The Spaniards, as they entered Cholula, were greatly struck with the appearance of the city and its inhabitants, it being a very much larger and more highly civilized place than any they had yet met with. The buildings were large and handsome, the streets wide, the population very large, and exhibiting in their dress every sign of wealth and luxury. There was, too, a great variety among the population; for, as it was the sacred city of the empire, people from all other parts were in the habit of making pilgrimages there, and most of the towns had their own temples and establishments. So numerous were the temples that fully two hundred towers could be counted, rising above the city, with the stupendous pyramid towering above them all.
The Spaniards were quartered in the court of one of the temples, and in the surrounding buildings. As soon as they were established there, the principal nobles of the town paid them visits of ceremony; and presents of everything necessary for their comfort and accommodation, and stores of provisions of all kinds, poured in.
Roger had, in the line of march, taken his place among the troops; but Cortez directed that he should, at other times, be near at hand to him, as he alone of those in the army had any personal knowledge of the country they were to traverse, and could give information as to the size of the towns, the nature of the roads, and the advantages which these offered, respectively, in the supply of provisions likely to be obtained, the facilities for getting water, etc. Cortez therefore, Father Aquilar acting as interpreter, enjoined him to ramble about the city, releasing him from all guards and exercises.
"Now that you are dressed like the rest of us," he said, "none will dream that you understand their language, and as you pass along they will express freely before you the sentiments they may entertain of us. I do not expect them to love us, and doubtless though they may flatter us to our faces, they curse us heartily behind our backs. But we care nothing for their curses, or for their ill will, so long as they do not proceed to plots and conspiracies against us.
"They seem courteous and friendly, and I think that the Tlascalans have spoken far too strongly against them. Nevertheless we will be on our guard. These men are not like our mountain friends, who were rough fighters, but hearty and honest people. They are traders, or nobles, or priests, accustomed to let their faces hide their thoughts, but through you we may get nearer to them than we otherwise should do.
"But go not alone. One man can easily be jostled into one of the temples, and made away with, without any being the wiser. I will choose two comrades for you; men of discretion, and courageous without being quarrelsome. With them, too, you will, ere long, begin to recover your mother tongue; which you will never do, so long as you only talk these heathen languages with Marina and Father Aquilar."
Cortez struck the table with his hand, and an attendant entered.
"Summon Juan Algones and Pedro de Gasconda."
In a minute two men entered. Juan was a weatherbeaten soldier, whose face bore the marks of several deep scars, and who had fought for Spain on most of the battlefields of Europe. Pedro was young enough to be his son. Juan had saved his life in a fight with the natives of Cuba, and since then they had been inseparable.
"Juan, I have sent for you to ask you and Pedro to take our new comrade into your party. I know you are always together, and that you are quiet and peaceable, and not given either to quarrel in your cups or to spend your evenings in gambling and dicing. He has, as you know, almost forgotten his own language; and it will be for our advantage, as well as his own, that he should learn it as soon as possible; for as he knows the country and people, it is well that he should be able to communicate with the rest of us, without having to hunt up an interpreter.
"But that is not the principal thing, just at the present moment. We know not whether the people of this city mean treacherously towards us, or not. They will not speak in the presence of Donna Marina or of the good Father here, knowing that they are acquainted with the language; but as they will not imagine that this tall Spanish soldier can know aught of what they say, they will not mind speaking out their thoughts before him. Therefore, while he is here it will be his duty to wander about the streets, and learn what the people are saying, and what they think of us. But here, as elsewhere, I have ordered that not less than three men shall go out together.
"I have chosen you to accompany him. You will be free from all other duty."
"That we will do, right willingly," Juan said. "It is pleasanter to walk about the streets, and look at these strange peoples, than it is to be cooped up here. As to the other part of the business, we will do what we can towards teaching him Spanish; but as to being our comrade, that must depend upon himself. I like the young fellow's looks much. He looks honest and straightforward, though where he got that light wavy hair and that fair skin from I can't guess--they are rare enough in Cadiz, where I heard one say that he came from."
"We don't know that he came from there, Juan. He may have come from the mountains of Biscaya, where fair skins are commoner than they are in the south. It is only that he described to us a port, which must have been Cadiz, as the last thing he recollected in Spain."
"Ah, well, his skin matters nothing!" the soldier said. "His face is an honest one, and as to height and strength one could wish no better comrade. He is young yet, not more than nineteen or twenty, I should guess; but I will warrant that there is not a man in the expedition he could not put on his back, if it came to a tussle. At any rate, we will try him.
"What do you say, Pedro?"
"I like his looks," the young fellow said. "At any rate, we are not like to quarrel with him. As to more than that, we can say better when we know more of each other."
Father Aquilar, who had listened attentively to all that had been said, explained to Roger the purport of the conversation between Cortez and the men. When he had finished, Roger held out his hand to the two soldiers, and gave them a hearty grasp, expressive of his willingness to join in the arrangement that had been made.
"He will do, General," Juan said. "We will look after him, never fear."
Cortez gave orders that the three men were to be allowed to leave the quarters and go into the town at all times, without further question; and they at once started for a turn through the streets.
"How are we to begin to teach this young chap to talk, Pedro? It is out of the regular line of duty, altogether."
Pedro shook his head.
"I don't know, comrade. I have heard women teaching their babies to talk, but I should hardly think that would be the way with him."
"No, no, that is quite different, Pedro. You see the little ones have not got their tongues twisted rightly, and they can't talk plain, do as much as they will; but this young fellow could say, plain enough, what we told him. The question is, what are we to tell him?
"Suppose I say to him, 'They are a curiously dressed lot of people here.'
"Well, he might say it after me, but as he would not have an idea what we meant, I don't see that we should be getting any forwarder."
Roger, however, had already gone through the work of learning the two native languages, and knew how to begin. He touched Juan's sword, and gave the Mexican word for it.
"What does he mean by that, Pedro?"
Roger repeated the action.
"Perhaps he wants to know what you call your sword," Pedro suggested.
"Perhaps it is that. I will try him, anyhow. " 'Spada.'"
Roger nodded, and repeated the word after him, and then touched his own helmet.
"That is what he means," Juan said, with great satisfaction. "What he has got to do is to touch things, and for us to tell him the names."
"That is capital. I had no idea teaching a language was such easy work."
However, after a few more words had been said, and a method established, Roger asked no more questions; his companions being now fully occupied in gazing at the houses, the temples, and the crowd in the streets, while he himself was busy listening to the remarks of the people.
It was curious to him, to hear everyone around freely discussing them, assured that no word they said was understood. Had he been vain, he would have felt gratified at the favorable comments passed on his personal appearance by many of the women and girls; but he put them down, entirely, to the fact that he differed more from them than did the Spaniards, and it was simply the color of his hair, and the fairness of his skin, that seemed wonderful to the Mexicans.
"Ah!" he heard one woman say to another, "I marked that tall soldier when they came into the town, this morning. They are all grand men, and look wonderfully strong and brave with their arms and armor. I know that such fighters as these were never heard of before; for have they not, few as they are, beaten the Tlascalans? Who, as we all know, are good fighters, though they are little better than savages. But as to their faces, they were not what I expected to see. They are lighter than ours, but they are not white.
"But I noted this soldier. He is just like what I expected--just like what they said the white man, who has been at Mexico for some time, is like."
"I am sorry for them," the girl said. "They say that Montezuma will offer them all up at the temples, when he gets them to Mexico."
"Perhaps they will never get there," a man standing next to her said. "At least, unless they enter the town as captives.
"Perhaps some of them will stay here. Why should not our god have his share of victims, as well as the war god of Mexico?"
The speaker was a priest, who was scowling angrily at the three Spaniards; who, after stopping to look at the carving over the gate of a temple, were now moving on again.
But although Roger heard occasional remarks that showed it was the opinion of the inhabitants that Montezuma had only allowed these strangers to enter his country for the purpose of destroying them, there was no general feeling of hostility to them--the satisfaction at the defeat they had inflicted upon Tlascala far outweighing any other feeling.
After wandering about for some hours, the party returned to their quarters, where Roger gave, through Malinche, to Cortez an account of what he had noticed.
"There is nothing new in that," Cortez said. "We know that Montezuma has done all in his power to prevent us from coming, and that now he knows he has wasted his treasures in vain, he must feel no goodwill towards us. However, we shall be prepared for him.
"But continue your search. There may be a change come. Montezuma may, even now, be preparing to crush us. If so, as soon as the people here know it, you will see a change in their demeanor. The priests are all powerful here, and the devils whom they worship are sure to set them on to do us mischief, if they can. Therefore, relax not your watchfulness. Marina and yourself are the only two among us who understand their language, and it is upon you both that we have to depend, to shield us from treachery. Against an open assault I have no fear, but in a crowded town like this, an attack at night might be fatal."
Cortez had, indeed, taken the precaution upon his arrival of stating to the nobles that, as it would be inconvenient for Marina to reside in buildings occupied solely by men, he should be glad if one of their wives would receive her as a guest; and she was accordingly installed, at once, in the house of one of the principal nobles.
Some days passed, as Cortez was waiting for the arrival of a fresh embassy from Montezuma. During that time Roger was unable to detect any change in the attitude of the population. The Spaniards were greeted courteously when they went abroad, and their leaders were entertained at fetes and banquets by the nobles.
Roger and his two comrades were well satisfied with each other. Juan was a taciturn soldier, but he was amused at the efforts of Pedro and Roger to converse.
"I am glad, Pedro," he said, on the third day of their making acquaintance with Roger, "that this young fellow has joined. If I had had my will, I should have said nay when Cortez proposed it; but it is good for you, lad. It is well enough for an old soldier like me to toil along all day without speaking, under a burning sun; and to say but little, even over his cup of wine, at the end of the march. But it is not good for a lad like you. You were getting old before your time. I could sing a song, and dance a measure with the best of them, when I was at your age; and you see what has come of my campaigning for, like yourself, I took to an old soldier for a comrade. This young fellow seems to have a cheerful spirit, and when he can talk our language well will be a gay companion, and will do you good.
"Yes, and do me good, too, Pedro. You are too apt to get into my moods, and be silent when I am silent; and thus I make you dull, while you do not make me bright. Only I want to see this young fellow at work, before I quite give him my heart. I believe that he will bear himself bravely. It were a shame, indeed, if there should be faint heart in a body of such thews and muscle. Truly he is a stately figure, and has the air of the great noble rather than a rough soldier; but that, I take it, comes from his being brought up among these Mexicans; who, though in most respects ignorant, carry themselves with much dignity, and with a stately and gentlemanly manner, such as one sees, in Europe, chiefly in men of good blood."
On the evening of the fourth day, the embassy arrived from Montezuma. The emperor had apparently again changed his mind, for he expressed his regret at their determination to visit the capital, and begged them to relinquish the idea. Upon leaving Cortez, the ambassadors had an interview with several of the chief nobles of Cholula. They left for the capital again in the night.
The next morning a change was visible in the behavior of the people. They no longer visited the Spanish quarters, but held aloof from them. The nobles, upon being invited to come to see Cortez, sent in excuses on the ground of illness, or that they were about to undertake a journey, or other pretexts, and the supply of provisions sent in fell off greatly.
Roger and his comrades also marked a great difference in the manner of the people in the streets. The buzz of talking and laughing was hushed, as they approached. People turned away, as if desirous of avoiding the sight of them. The priests regarded them with an insolent air. On one or two occasions they were roughly jostled, and on arriving at the end of a street the people gathered round, and by words and gesture told them to go no farther.
Cortez had particularly enjoined in Roger and his companions against embroiling themselves, in any way, with the people; and they therefore suffered themselves to be turned back, without exhibiting any air of concern; but Juan muttered many oaths beneath his mustache, and Roger and Pedro had difficulty in restraining their anger.
Cortez looked very grave upon hearing Roger's report, on their return.
"I fear that treachery is intended," he said, "and if I did but know it, I would be beforehand with them. You had best not go abroad again, for it may be their intention to provoke a quarrel, by an affray in the streets. I will send some of the Cempoallans who are with us out. They will be less observed, and may find out what is going on."
"I think," Marina said, "that if we go up to the flat roof, we may see something of what is going on. This house is more lofty than most."
Cortez, with Roger and the girl, ascended to the roof. From it they commanded a considerable prospect. On some of the roofs they could make out bodies of men at work, but these were too far off to see what they were doing.
In the evening the Cempoallans returned, and said that they had come upon barricades erected across several of the streets, and that on many of the roofs great stones and beams of timber were piled; while they had discovered holes dug in the streets, and covered with branches, and apparently intended to entrap cavalry.
A portion of the troops were ordered to remain under arms all night, in case of attack, but the city remained quiet. In the course of the following day some Tlascalans came in from their camp, and informed Cortez they had heard that a great sacrifice of children had been offered up, in one of the temples, a custom which prevailed whenever an enterprise of a serious nature was about to be undertaken. They said, too, that large numbers of the citizens, with their wives and children, were leaving the town by the various gates. The situation had now become very grave, and Cortez and his officers were at a loss to know what had best be done, as they had still no positive proof that treachery was intended.
This proof was, however, furnished by Marina next day. The wife of the cazique had taken a great fancy to her, and urged her to take up her abode altogether at her house, hinting that it would be safer for her to do so. Marina at once pretended that she should be glad to leave the white men, who held her in captivity in order that they might use her as an interpreter. The Cholulan then gave her a full account of the conspiracy.
It was, she said, the work of the emperor, who had sent rich presents by the ambassadors to the great nobles, and had urged upon them the necessity of making an end of the white intruders. Twenty thousand troops had been marched down to within a short distance of the city, and these were to enter and take part in the assault on the Spaniards.
The attack was to be made as these left the city. The streets were to be barricaded, and impediments to prevent the action of the cavalry placed in the way; and the Spaniards were to be overwhelmed with the missiles from the roofs, while the troops would pour out from the houses to the attack. Some of the Spaniards were to be sacrificed at the altars at Cholula, the rest to be marched in chains to the capital, and there put to death.
This scheme was unfolded to Marina in her apartment in the Spanish quarters, and she appeared to assent to the proposal that she should, that night, leave the Spaniards altogether. Making an excuse to leave the room for a few minutes, Marina hastened to Cortez and informed him of what she had heard. The cazique's wife was at once seized, and being in terror of her life, she repeated the statements she had made to Marina.
The news was alarming, indeed. The position of the Spaniards in the midst of a hostile city seemed well-nigh hopeless--the barricades and pitfalls would paralyze the action of the cavalry and artillery, every house would be a fortress, and under such difficulties even the bravery of the handful of Spaniards would avail but little against the overwhelming force by which they would be attacked.
Before deciding as to the best course to be adopted, Cortez determined to obtain further confirmation of the story of the cazique's wife. He accordingly sent an invitation to two priests, who resided in the temple close to his quarters, to visit him. When they came he received them most courteously, but informed them that, by the powers he possessed, he was perfectly aware that treachery was intended. He bestowed upon them some very valuable presents, from the gifts he had received from Montezuma, and promised that none should be aware that he had received any information from them. The rich bribes had their effect, and the priests confirmed the report Marina had heard.
They said that the emperor had, since their arrival, been in a state of vacillation, constantly consulting the oracles, and unable to make up his mind whether to fight them, or to receive them with honor. He had, when he heard that they were going to Cholula, first issued orders that they should be well received; but since then the oracles had again been consulted, and had declared that Cholula would be the grave of the white men, for that the gods would assuredly lend their aid in destroying the enemies who had dared to violate the sanctity of the holy city. He had, therefore, ordered the attack to take place in the manner described; and so certain were the Aztecs of success that the manacles to secure the prisoners had already been sent to the city.
Cortez dismissed the priests, telling them that he intended to leave the city the following morning, and requested that they would induce the principal nobles engaged in the plot to pay him a visit, at once. As soon as the priests had left, he summoned his principal officers, and disclosed to them the plot he had discovered. There was much difference of opinion between them. Some were in favor of returning at once to the friendly city of Tlascala. Others voted for still advancing, but by the northerly route their allies had recommended. But the majority agreed, with their general, that their only chance of safety was in taking a bold course; for that retreat would raise the whole country against them, and ensure their destruction.
When the nobles arrived, Cortez rebuked them mildly for their altered conduct and for the failure of supplies; and said that the Spaniards would no longer be a burden upon the city, but would march out on the following morning; and requested that they would furnish a body of two thousand men, to transport his artillery and baggage. As this suited admirably the designs of the natives, they at once agreed to furnish the required force.
Upon their leaving, Cortez had an interview with Montezuma's ambassadors, who had accompanied him from the coast, and told them that he was aware of the treacherous plot to destroy him and his army, and that he was grieved to find that this vile act of treachery was instigated by Montezuma. The ambassadors, astounded at what appeared to them the supernatural knowledge of Cortez, and terrified at the position in which they found themselves, made earnest protestations of their entire ignorance of the scheme; and declared that they were convinced that the emperor was wholly innocent of it, and that it was entirely the act of the Cholulans. Cortez pretended to believe them, as he was desirous, as long as possible, of keeping up a semblance of friendship with Montezuma; and declared that he was willing to believe that, after the friendly messages and gifts the emperor had sent, he could not be guilty of such baseness and treachery. His anger therefore would be directed chiefly against the Cholulans, who were guilty not only of foul treachery to himself, but of dishonoring the emperor's name by their conduct.
As soon, however, as the ambassadors had retired, a strong guard was placed over them, to prevent them from communicating with the citizens. Every precaution was taken, in case the plans of the enemy should be altered, and an attack made during the night. The guns were placed so as to command the approaches. The horses were kept saddled, and ready for action. Strong guards were placed, and the troops lay down in their armor. Orders were dispatched, to the Tlascalans, to hold themselves ready to march into the city in the morning, and join the Spaniards.
As soon as daylight broke, the troops were under arms. A portion of those, with the guns, were posted outside the building, so as to sweep the streets. A strong body were told off to guard the three gates of entrance. The rest were drawn up in the great court, which was surrounded partly by buildings, partly by high walls.
Soon after the arrangements were completed the caziques arrived, having with them a body of men even larger than they had agreed to bring. As soon as they entered, Cortez called them to him, and informed him that he was acquainted with all the particulars of the conspiracy. He had come to that city upon the invitation of the emperor, had given them no cause of complaint, and had left his allies outside the walls. Under the guise of kindness and hospitality, they had prepared a snare to cut off and destroy them.
The Cholulans were astounded. It seemed to them useless to deny anything to men who could thus read their thoughts, and they confessed that the accusation was true.
Cortez raised his hand. A gun gave the signal, a terrible volley was poured into the Cholulans, and the Spaniards then fell upon them with pikes and swords. The unfortunate natives, thus taken by surprise, and penned up like sheep in the enclosure, scarcely offered any resistance; some tried to escape through the gateways, but were repulsed by the troops stationed there. Others strove, but in vain, to scale the walls, and the only survivors of the massacre owed their lives to hiding under the great piles of dead.
In the meantime, the Mexicans without, being made aware by the heavy firing of the failure of their plan of surprise, rushed from the buildings in which they had been stationed, and poured up to the assault. They were swept down by the discharges of the guns, but the places of the slain were rapidly filled, and with reckless bravery they pressed up to the Spaniards; although Cortez, at the head of his cavalry, charged them again and again, so as to give the gunners time to reload.
The struggle was still proceeding when the Tlascalans entered the gates of the city and, coming up at a run to the scene of conflict, fell upon the rear of the Mexicans. These could no longer resist their terrible opponents and, breaking their ranks, took refuge in the houses, or fled to the temples.
One large body, headed by the priests, made a stand upon the great central teocalli. There was a tradition among them that, if its stones were removed, the god would pour out an inundation of water to overwhelm his enemies. The Cholulans tore down some of the stones, and when the expected miracle did not take place, were seized with despair. Many shut themselves up in the wooden towers on the platform of the summit, and poured down missiles on their foes as they climbed the great staircase; but the darts and arrows fell harmless upon the armor of the Spaniards, and when these gained the platform, they snatched up the blazing arrows shot at them, and fired the turrets. The Cholulans fought to the last, and either threw themselves over the parapet, or perished in the flames.
In the meantime, many of the wooden houses in the town had caught fire, and the flames spread rapidly. The Spanish cavalry charging through the street trampled the Mexicans under foot, while the Tlascalan allies gratified their long enmity against the Cholulans by slaying them without mercy.
When all resistance had ceased, the victors burst into the houses and temples, and plundered them of their valuables. The sack continued for some hours, and then Cortez, at the entreaties of some Cholulan caziques who had been spared at the massacre, and of the Mexican ambassadors, consented to call off his troops; and two of the nobles were allowed to go into the town, and to assure the surviving inhabitants that no further harm would be done to them, if they would return to their homes.
The Spaniards and Tlascalans were drawn up under their respective leaders. The division of the booty offered no difficulties. The mountaineers attached no value to gold or jewels, and were well content with wearing apparel and provisions; while to the share of the Spaniards fell the valuables taken. Cortez had given strict orders that no violence should be offered to the women or children, and his orders had been respected; but many of these and numbers of men had been made prisoners by the Tlascalans, to carry away into slavery.
Cortez, however, now persuaded them to liberate their captives; and so great was his influence that they acceded to his request. The dead bodies were now collected, and carried outside the city by the inhabitants.
Cortez, in his letter to the Emperor Charles, says that three thousand were slain; but most contemporary writers put down the number of victims at six thousand, and some at even a higher figure. Order was promptly restored. The inhabitants who had left the town speedily returned, and the people of the neighborhood flocked in with supplies. The markets were re-opened, and only the lines of blackened ruins told of the recent strife.
The massacre was a terrible one, and is a stain upon the memory of Cortez; who otherwise throughout the campaign acted mercifully, strictly prohibiting any plundering or ill treatment of the natives, and punishing all breaches of his orders with great severity. The best excuse that can be offered is, that in desperate positions desperate measures must be taken; that the plot, if successful, would have resulted in the extermination of the Spaniards; and that the terrible lesson taught was necessary, to ensure the safety of the expedition. Moreover, a considerable portion of those who fell, fell in fair fight; and after the action was over, the inhabitants were well treated. It must, too, be taken into consideration that the Spaniards were crusaders as well as discoverers; and that it was their doctrine that all heretics must be treated as enemies of God, and destroyed accordingly.
Such was not the doctrine of their Church, for as the great historian Bede writes of King Ethelbert: "He had learned, from the teachers and authors of his salvation, that men are to be drawn, not dragged, to heaven."
Roger, with his two companions, had formed part of the force stationed outside the gates to resist the attack of the citizens; and he had taken his share in the fierce fighting that went on there. He was not free from the prejudices of his times, and the horrible sacrifices of the temples, and the narrow escape he himself had had in being offered up as a victim, had inspired him with a deep hatred of the religion of the people; although against them, personally, he had no feeling of hostility. Even in the height of the conflict he felt pity for the men who, in their cotton armor, rushed so fearlessly to the attack of the iron-clad Spaniards, armed with their terrible weapons. But at the same time, he knew that if they were successful, the most horrible fate awaited him and his companions; and the treacherous plot, of which they had so nearly been the victims, excited the same feelings in his mind as in that of the Spaniards.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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14
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: In Mexico.
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The terrible vengeance taken by the Spaniards at Cholula struck terror into the minds of the Mexicans. The white men had shown, in their conflict with the Tlascalans, how terrible they were in battle, and it now seemed that treachery was of no avail against them. The cities in the neighborhood of Cholula hastened to send messages expressive of submission to the terrible white warriors, accompanied by presents of all kinds. Montezuma saw, with awe and affright, that even the oracles of the gods could not be depended upon against these strangers; and that bribes, force, and treachery had alike failed to arrest their march towards his capital. Vast numbers of victims were again offered up on the altars, but no favorable responses were returned--for the priests, seeing how complete had been the failure of their predictions as to events at Cholula, were unwilling again to commit themselves. The emperor consequently sent fresh ambassadors laden with presents to Cortez, with assurances that he was in no way responsible for the attack upon them, and that he considered they had done well in punishing its authors.
Cortez endeavored to induce the inhabitants of the city to embrace Christianity; and would have resorted to force here, as at Cempoalla, but he was dissuaded by Father Olmedo; who, as on former occasions, urged that conversions effected by force were of little use, and that the cause would be injured, rather than benefited by such measures. Christianity would, as a matter of course, result from the success of the Spaniards; and that success would be imperiled, by exciting the animosity of the whole people by violence to their gods. As the great teocalli had been captured in fair fight, and a large portion of its buildings burnt, Cortez converted a massive stone edifice that had escaped the flames into a church, and erected a gigantic crucifix on the summit of the teocalli, visible from all points of the city.
A fortnight after his entrance to Cholula, Cortez again began to move forward. His Cempoallan allies, who had fought with great bravery against the Tlascalans, and had rendered him immense assistance upon the march, now asked to be allowed to return home; for much as they believed in the prowess of the whites, the dread of Montezuma's name was too great for them to dare trust themselves in his capital. Cortez dismissed them with many presents and, with his Tlascalan army, set forward towards the capital.
As they proceeded on their way, parties came in from various towns on the plateau with friendly messages. The enormous taxation, imposed to keep up the luxurious court of the emperor, pressed heavily upon the land; and the greater portion of the inhabitants hailed, with real satisfaction, the coming of a power that appeared likely to overthrow the Aztec tyranny. Had it not been for this widespread disaffection, the little army of Cortez would, in spite of its bravery and superior weapons, have been powerless against the vast hosts which could have been hurled against it. But the people of the empire, in general, regarded Mexico as its oppressor and tyrant, and hailed the opportunity of freeing themselves from its dominations. Cortez, except when the question of religion was concerned, was politic in the highest degree; and inspired all the natives who came to him with the full belief that, in him, they would have a kind and generous protector against Montezuma.
Warm as were the assurances of friendship sent by that monarch, the Spaniards were well aware that no confidence could be placed in them. Their new friends, indeed, informed them that he was already preparing for an attack upon the Spaniards; and that the straight and level road had been blocked up, in order that they might be forced to take their passage through the mountains, where they could be attacked and overwhelmed at points at which their cavalry and artillery would be unable to act.
On arriving, therefore, at the place where the roads had been blocked, Cortez caused the piled-up obstacles to be removed; and the army proceeded by the level road, where they felt confident in their power to defend themselves, if attacked.
Upon the march Roger sometimes kept with Juan and Pedro, at other times walked beside Malinche, who, although wholly devoted to Cortez, had yet a warm and kindly feeling for her former friend. Cortez himself often consulted Roger as to the roads and places ahead, for he always received the native descriptions with some doubt, as he could not be sure whether they were honestly given.
After passing across the plateau, the little army ascended the steep range of hills separating it from the table land of Mexico. The cold was sufficient to affect them seriously, after the heat of the plains; and the difficulties of taking up the guns and their ammunition were great. This work was principally performed by the native allies, the Spaniards holding themselves in readiness to repel any attack that might be made upon them, in the forest-clad hills or in the deep defiles; but no foes showed themselves, and they at last gained the western slopes, whence the plains of Mexico burst into sight.
The Spaniards stood astonished--as Roger had done, on his first journey--at the beauty of the prospect; but the sight of the numerous cities, telling of an immense population, filled them with uneasiness; and a clamor presently arose, that to march onward against such overwhelming odds was nothing short of madness; and that, having accomplished such vast things, they had done sufficient for honor, and should now return with the spoils they had captured to the coast.
But, as before, the enthusiasm and influence of Cortez soon reanimated their courage. He and the other leaders went among them, and by argument and entreaty persuaded them again to form their ranks and press forward; and in a short time the army wound down from the heights into the valley.
Happily for them, the ruler of Mexico was altogether dominated by superstitious fears. Against native enemies he had shown himself a resolute and valiant leader, had carried on numerous successful wars, and had by force of arms greatly extended his dominions; but against these strange white enemies, his faculties seemed altogether to fail him. He had, for years, given himself up to the priesthood; and in this crisis, instead of consulting with his trusted generals, he was swayed wholly by the advice of the priests; and sought protection, not from the armies at his command, but from the gods, whom he strove to influence in his favor by hecatombs of human victims, sacrificed upon their altars.
In the month that had elapsed since he joined Cortez at Tlascala, Roger had made considerable progress in Spanish; and although incapable of supporting a long conversation with his comrades, could make himself understood in simple matters. His behavior at the fight in Cholula had gained him the respect of the old soldier; who, however, was not wholly satisfied with him.
"The young fellow is no coward," he said to Pedro. "When the Mexicans were pressing us sorely, he fought as stoutly and well as any in our ranks. He is well skilled in the use of the sword, which is wonderful, seeing that the Mexicans among whom he has been brought up are but poor hands with that weapon; and both with thrust and point he showed himself perfectly at home with the heavy blade the general gave him. I saw him pressed at one time by four Mexicans together, and was making to his assistance. But there was no need for it. He ran one through the body, and with heavy downright blows, well-nigh cleft the heads of two others; and the fourth, with a cry of astonishment and fear, sprang back into the crowd.
"But though he fought so stoutly when attacked, he showed less ardor in the assault, and lagged behind when we were pursuing the enemy."
"I like him none the worse for that, Juan," Pedro said. "He has lived among these people, and though I hear that, when they heard of our landing, they would have sacrificed him, and he had to fly for his life and fight hard to make his escape, he must in other respects look upon them without animosity; and doubtless he felt some pity for the poor wretches."
"I felt some pity myself," Juan said; "but as they had intended so treacherously towards us, and proposed to put us all to a cruel death, I did not let my pity interfere with my sword arm."
"Ah, but you have been accustomed to battles and bloodshed all your life, Juan. One does not take to the trade of killing all at once, and I like him none the worse that he was disinclined for the slaughter of the people among whom he had been brought up."
"Well, we shall see," the old soldier grumbled. "It seems to me that when two or three hundred men are fighting against a whole nation, and that nation proposes to cut all their throats on the altars of their gods, it is not a time for scruples. I approve of the orders the general gave, that no one was to injure women and children, and I heartily wish that such were always the orders; but when it comes to men who have set their minds upon killing me, I don't draw nice distinctions, and I just smite where I see a chance."
The news that the Spaniards had crossed the mountains, and had entered the valley, completed the dejection and despair of Montezuma; and after shutting himself up in his palace, and refusing food, he at last turned from the gods, from whom he could obtain no assistance, and summoned a meeting of his counselors.
These were divided in opinion. Cacama was at the head of the peace party. He pointed out that, had they intended to oppose the advance of the white men by force of arms, the whole strength of the empire should have been dispatched to dispute the passage of the mountains. As that had not been done, they should now be received in friendly fashion, as the ambassadors of the great king whom Cortez claimed to represent. Some of the other counselors, led by Cuitlahua, Montezuma's brother, were in favor of turning out all the forces and repelling the invasion; but Cacama's counsel prevailed, and an embassy was dispatched, under his leadership, to greet the Spaniards and conduct them to the capital.
The Spanish army advanced slowly. They halted for two days at Amaquemecan, where they were well received and hospitably entertained, and presented with a considerable sum in gold. They then marched forward to Ajotzinco, a town standing at the southern extremity of Lake Chalco, and partly erected on piles rising from the lake itself. Here, as at Venice, canals took the place of roads, and all traffic was carried on in boats.
Upon the following morning, a messenger arrived with the news that the King of Tezcuco was approaching, as an ambassador from the emperor, and in a short time the royal procession approached the city. Cacama was borne in a magnificent litter, shaded by a gorgeous canopy, and was attended by a number of nobles and officials. As the palanquin neared the spot where Cortez was standing, Cacama left his litter and advanced towards him; saluting by touching the ground with his hand, and raising it in the air. Cortez also advanced and embraced the young prince, who told him that he came as the ambassador of the emperor, to welcome him to his capital. An exchange of presents took place, and Cortez assured the prince of the friendliness of his intentions, and of the respect he entertained for the emperor. Cacama then withdrew, and returned at once to Mexico, while the army resumed its march.
Roger did not make any attempt to approach the prince, after his interview with Cortez. He knew that he would have received, from Cuitcatl, the news that he had surmounted the dangers of his journey and joined the Spaniards at Tlascala, and thought that it would be better to defer presenting himself to the prince until he could do so more privately at Tezcuco. He considered it possible that Montezuma might have blamed Cacama for his escape; and that, if he were to greet him, it would be reported to the emperor, who might regard it as a proof that there had been a secret understanding between them, and that Cacama had aided his flight.
Crossing the causeway that divided the Lake of Chalco from that of Xochical, the army marched to Iztapalapan, a large town with a royal residence, governed by the emperor's brother Cuitlahua. The prince had assembled a number of the great nobles, and Cortez was received with great state and ceremony; and after the usual presentation of gifts, a banquet was served to the Spaniards in one of the great halls of the palace.
After this Cortez was conducted over the gardens, which were the finest in Mexico. They contained all the vegetable productions of the empire, with magnificent aviaries, and a fish pond built of stone, nearly a mile in circumference.
At daybreak next morning, that of November 8th, 1519, the Spaniards were mustered and again set forward. The four hundred white troops led the way. They were followed by the baggage, after which came what was numerically the main portion of the army, six thousand five hundred Tlascalan soldiers. Keeping on by the shore of the lake, and crossing the narrow strip of land dividing the Lake of Xochical from that of Tezcuco, they arrived at the head of the great causeway running across the lake to the island on which the capital was built. The causeway was a massive construction, built of large stones laid in cement, and was wide enough to permit of ten horsemen riding abreast.
The shores of the lake on either side were closely dotted with towns and villages, and the lake itself was well-nigh covered with the canoes and rafts of the natives. The Spaniards saw, too, with surprise and admiration, floating gardens--some of them of considerable extent--on the surface of the lake, covered with flowers and shrubs. The scene was the most beautiful that had ever met their eyes, and they were filled with delight and admiration.
Halfway across the causeway they came upon the fort of Xoloc. Here a massive stone wall, twelve feet high, crossed the dike, and stretched out on to the lake on either side. Towers were erected at its angles and, properly defended, it could have resisted the attack of an army.
An archway gave passage through the wall. Here a great number of nobles were assembled, who welcomed the Spaniards with formal ceremony; and the army then marched forward along the dike, till it reached a wooden drawbridge near the gate of the city.
As they crossed this a splendid procession was seen approaching. It was preceded by three great officers of state, bearing golden wands; behind them the emperor himself lay in his palanquin, borne on the shoulders of nobles, with a canopy of rich feather work sparkling with jewels above his head. Montezuma alighted when within a short distance, and with the canopy still carried over his head, and leaning upon his brother and nephew, he advanced towards Cortez.
The general, dismounting, went forward with a few of his principal officers to meet him. The emperor received his guest with courtesy, and expressed his pleasure at seeing him in his capital; while Cortez replied with expressions of profound respect, accompanied by thanks for the superb presents that Montezuma had sent him. The emperor re-entered his litter, and the Spaniards followed, with music playing and colors flying.
Although already familiar with Mexican architecture, they were astonished by the magnificence of the buildings that bordered the great streets along which they marched. Here were the mansions of the nobles, built of a red porous stone and covering a large space of ground. The flat roofs were protected by stone parapets, and many of them were laid out as gardens. Between these mansions were broad terraces, which presented a mass of flowers. Here and there were great marketplaces, surrounded by porticoes of stone; and above all the temples, with their towering pyramids, rose high in the air.
Along the whole line, crowds of people watched the procession of the troops; gazing with surprise and admiration at the cavaliers on horseback, and at the flashing armor and arms of the Spaniards; and with wrath and indignation at the Tlascalan army, which followed in their rear.
The street was in many places intersected by canals. Passing over these on light bridges, they at last reached a great square near the center of the city, on one side of which rose the huge temple of the war god of the Aztecs. Facing this was a palace of Montezuma's father, which had been appropriated, by the emperor, as quarters for the Spaniards. The emperor himself received them in the courtyard, presented Cortez with a magnificent necklace, and then, saying he would visit them later on, withdrew.
The palace was large enough to afford accommodation for the whole army; and as it was surrounded by a massive stone wall, flanked with towers, Cortez saw, with satisfaction, that it could without difficulty resist any sudden attack. He placed sentries on the walls, and planted his cannon to command the approaches; and in order to prevent any chance of a quarrel arising, he forbade any soldiers to leave the palace, without orders. A large number of Mexican slaves had been appointed to attend upon the strangers, and a meal was speedily served by them to the troops, who were then permitted to take a sleep, for some hours, during the heat of the day.
The emperor paid another visit in the evening, and had a long conversation with Cortez, distributing a large number of rich presents among the Spaniards before leaving. After he had left they celebrated their arrival in the city by a salute with their cannon, whose thunder added to the impression produced upon the natives by the tales they had heard of the prowess of their visitors, and heightened their belief in the supernatural powers of the Spaniards.
The next day Cortez returned the emperor's visit. He was accompanied by a few of his principal officers, and five or six soldiers. The palace was of immense size, built, like the rest of the houses, of red stone, and ornamented with marble. Fountains sparkled in the courts through which the Spaniards passed, and crowds of Aztec nobles thronged the squares and great halls. The walls of these apartments were hung with richly dyed cotton, or with draperies of gorgeous feather work, while the fumes of incense rose up in clouds from censors.
Montezuma, surrounded by a few of his nobles, received them; and Cortez at once opened to him what he considered to be the chief object of his enterprise, and through the medium of Marina expounded the doctrines of Christianity, and besought the emperor to turn from his false gods. As Montezuma had himself been a priest, and was an ardent devotee of his religion, it was scarcely to be expected that he would favorably entertain the proposal to change his religion. He answered courteously that, no doubt, the god of Cortez was good to the Spaniards, just as his own gods were good to him. What his visitors said of the creation of the world was similar to what he himself believed. His people had occupied the land but for a few years, having been led there by a great being who, after giving them laws, had withdrawn to the regions of the east. When he left he had promised that he or his descendants would again visit them, and resume his empire. The wonderful deeds of the Spaniards, their complexion, the fact that they came from the east--all showed that they were the descendants of this god.
"Your sovereign beyond the waters is, I know, the rightful lord of all. I rule in his name. You, Malinzin, are his ambassador, and you and your brethren shall share what I have."
He then dismissed his visitors with fresh presents.
Malinzin was the name by which Cortez was universally known by the natives. Malinche was ever with him, and they connected him with her, and called him by the masculine form of her name.
But gratified as the Spaniards were at the kindness of their reception, and within the munificent gifts showered upon them, they could not but feel that their position was a precarious one. They were in the center of a great city, with a warlike population. It was broken up, by its canals with their movable bridges, into a series of fortresses; and it would be well-nigh hopeless to endeavor, by force, to make their way out of it. At present all seemed fair, but they were well aware that Montezuma had endeavored in every way, save by open war, to prevent their coming; and that, influenced as he was by the oracles of the gods, he might at any moment exchange his apparent friendship for open enmity.
Two days after arriving at the capital, Roger asked Malinche if she could obtain permission from the general for him to cross the lake to Tezcuco, in order that he might pay his friends there a visit. Presently she returned, saying that the general himself would speak to him.
Roger had been named Sancho by the Spaniards, as he had not ventured to give his own name; and it was supposed that he had forgotten that which he had borne as a child.
"Sancho," the general said; "I know, from what Marina says, that you have great intelligence, though you have so long been cut off from your own people. You see that our position here is a strange one. We are guests and yet, to some extent, we are prisoners. The Tlascalans with us are hated by the Mexicans, and either between them and the natives, or maybe between some of my own soldiers and the citizens, a brawl might arise which would be used as a pretext for an attack upon us.
"As I feel that I can rely upon your discretion, I will tell you of some news that I received at Cholula, but which I have kept to myself. The natives on the coast have shown themselves hostile to the garrison of a hundred and fifty men, whom I left there under Juan de Escalante. A chief near there sent in to tender his allegiance, and asked that four white men should be sent to escort him to the town. As soon as they got to him two of them were murdered, but the other two managed to escape and made their way back. Don Juan marched, with fifty of his men and several thousand Indian allies, to attack the treacherous chief. There was a desperate battle, our allies fled, but the soldiers stood their ground and--thanks to the aid of the Blessed Virgin--resisted all the attacks made upon them. But eight of the men were slain, and Juan himself was mortally wounded. The Indian prisoners taken said that the attack, like that at Cholula, had been made by the orders of Montezuma.
"You may do us good service by finding out what are the intentions of the Mexicans. Therefore, by all means, carry out your intention of going across to Tezcuco. The young king is a nephew of the emperor, but he has suffered much at Montezuma's hands, and has been stripped of the greater part of his father's dominions. He can, therefore, hardly be friendly to him at heart. At any rate you may be able to learn, in conversation with him, what are his sentiments towards us. Tezcuco was long the rival of Mexico, and as the alliance of the Tlascalans has proved of the greatest advantage to us, still more should we benefit if the Tezcucans were our friends. If we have to retire from Mexico, we might take refuge there.
"At any rate, if nothing else comes of it, you might learn from the king whether he is aware of any treachery meditated against us. He saved you, Malinche says, from Montezuma and the priests, once; and would be likely, therefore, to warn you, did he know that danger was impending."
When Marina had translated this, Roger at once agreed to do his best to discover if any treachery were meant.
"You had best go in disguise," Cortez said. "Donna Marina will make arrangements for a canoe to be here, after nightfall; and by staining your face, and putting on the attire of an Aztec noble--for which we have ample materials at hand--would not be noticed as you pass through the throng of yon boats on the lake. It would be best that you did not go as a Spanish soldier. You might be arrested on the road, and perhaps carried away and sacrificed at one of the altars. Once at Tezcuco you must, of course, act in the matter as you think best."
Marina--who was not, like the Spaniards, confined to the palace--had no difficulty in arranging for a canoe; and as soon as it became dark, Roger, dressed as an Aztec cazique, and with his face slightly stained, took his place in it. The lake was thronged with canoes, but the craft in which he was seated passed without notice through them, and after two hours' paddling reached Tezcuco.
Telling the natives that they were to wait for his return, however long that might be, Roger proceeded to the palace. Avoiding the principal streets and squares, where his unusual height would attract attention, he passed unquestioned into the palace amid the throng of chiefs and nobles who were entering or leaving it, and made his way to the apartment of Cuitcatl. It was empty but, clapping his hand, the attendant who had before waited upon him entered. As Roger's attire was similar to the one he had worn while at Tezcuco, the man recognized him at once.
Roger bade him go in search of Cuitcatl, and tell him privately that he was there, and beg him to come. In a few minutes Cuitcatl entered the room, and greeted Roger most heartily.
"I am glad, indeed, to see you, my friend; and Cacama and the queen and the princess will rejoice, also. There was great anxiety for you after your first escape, for the emperor was furious when he heard that you had slipped off. The priests had assured him that the sacrifice of a white man, to the god of war, would ensure his aid and protection against the white invaders. Runners were dispatched in scores to every town and village, and although I knew that Bathalda was familiar with every foot of the country, and would give his life for you if needs be, it seemed impossible that you should be able to make your way through.
"Then came the news of your fight in the hills; how you had a bow that carried arrows to an unheard-of distance; and how, in a hand-to-hand fight, you had prevailed against a score of our soldiers. After that, you seemed lost. The officers commanding the troops were convinced that you had not descended the eastern slopes of the mountains; and the spies, which were watching every movement of the white men on the coast, reported that no white man had joined them. Therefore, it was supposed that you must have returned west of the range of hills, and every town and village was searched, and every grove and plantation examined.
"We were all very anxious for you, and it was not until a week after we had the news of the wonderful defeat of the Tlascalans, by the white men, that Bathalda returned with the message you sent us, and the news that you had joined the white men there.
"Since then we have, of course, heard nothing of you. Cacama said that he did not see you when he met Malinzin; but of course he did not examine the faces of the white soldiers, being occupied solely with their chief and the officers round him. But we all felt assured that we should hear from you, shortly.
"So, you have resumed your Aztec dress?"
"I thought it better to do so, for the purpose of coming here," Roger replied; "for if the priests want a victim so sorely, it seemed to me that, if I ventured to leave the palace dressed in my Spanish garb, I might be seized and carried off."
"You are quite right," Cuitcatl agreed. "The priests are furious against you all, and I cannot altogether blame them. Your general may, as he says, come as an ambassador from his king to Montezuma; and if he had orders to come to his court, at all costs, he was not to blame if he fought his way whenever he was opposed; but this does not justify him in insulting our religion, and even assaulting and hurling down our gods, at every opportunity. He even tried to persuade the emperor that our gods were false; and spoke insolently of them, yesterday, when Montezuma conducted him, at his request, into the holy shrines. Cacama was one of the strongest advisors that a peaceful reception should be accorded to the white visitors, but even he is being greatly turned against them, by their conduct towards our gods.
"Come, I will take you to the royal apartments, and leave you in a room where no one will enter, until I inform Cacama that you are here."
A few minutes later the young king entered the apartment where Cuitcatl had placed Roger, and embraced him with real affection.
"Truly, I am glad to see you again, Roger Hawkshaw. I am glad to see you for yourself, and I hail you as a counselor, in the strange pass to which we have come. Here are Maclutha, and my sister, Amenche."
The queen and the princess entered as he spoke, and each gave Roger their hand; which, bowing deeply, he raised to his lips, having before told them that this was the salutation, among his own people, to ladies of high rank.
"We did not think, Roger Hawkshaw, when we last parted, that we should meet again so soon. Who could have believed then that the little band of white men, of whose arrival upon the coast we had heard, would have made their way on to the capital, when the emperor was bent upon preventing their coming? We have trembled for you, and have prayed the gods to protect you; and greatly did we rejoice when we heard, from Cuitcatl's follower, that you had surmounted all your dangers safely, and joined the whites.
"It has been a strange time here, since you left. I have been, for the most part, at the capital. The news that came, from day to day, of the progress of the whites filled everyone with surprise, and consternation.
"We of the council met daily, but Montezuma passed his time at the shrines and among the priests. He was a brave warrior and a great general, once, but he is no longer himself. My father's prophecy seems to have unmanned him, and he has given himself up wholly to superstition. I believe in our gods, and pay them due honor; but I do not hold that a man should not think for himself, or that he should trust wholly in the priests, who are but men like ourselves; and who are, methinks, but poor judges of worldly affairs, though wise and learned in matters concerning religion. Montezuma thinks otherwise, and the result is that no orders have been issued, no determination arrived at, and we have the disgrace of seeing a handful of strangers installed in the capital.
"Mind, my counsels have always been that they should be conducted honorably from the coast, and treated as ambassadors; but we have done neither one thing nor the other. They have been loaded with gifts, but forbidden to come here. Yet since they came, in spite of orders, we have seemed as if we feared to meet them; and I blush at the thought of the treacherous plan to destroy them, at Cholula.
"The gods had prophesied that they would find their grave there. But the gods were wrong; and it may be that the God of the whites is more powerful than ours. If not, how is it that they did not avenge the indignities offered to them by the whites, at Cempoalla, where their images were hurled down from their altars? And at Cholula, where the most sacred of all the temples was attacked and captured, and the emblem of the White God set up on its summit?
"You yourself, Roger Hawkshaw, warned us against these Spaniards. You said that they were cruel masters to the people they had conquered, and above all things cruel in the matter of religion, forcing all who came under their sway to accept their God, under pain of death; and that they would slay even you, a white man like themselves, did they know that you did not belong to their people. Tell us what is to be done. Why are these men in our capital? What are their objects? Brave and strong as they are, they cannot hope to overcome a nation, or to force all Anahuac to forsake their own gods and to accept the God of the whites."
"I know not what are the designs of Cortez, the leader whom you call Malinzin. I should say the Spaniards are here with several motives. In the first place, there is the desire for wealth and spoil; in the second, religious ardor--the desire to bring all within the pale of their Church; in the third place, the love of adventure; and, lastly, the honor they will receive, at the hands of their sovereign, for opening so rich an empire to his arms."
"You do not think, then, they intend to conquer us?"
"Cortez cannot think of doing so, with the means at his disposal, Cacama; but doubtless he has sent home reports of the richness of the country, and forces many times more numerous than those under his command may be sent out to his assistance."
"Does he know that you have come hither?" Cacama asked suddenly.
"He does," Roger replied. "I could not leave the palace without permission, and Malinche told him of the kindness I had experienced at your hands. He himself is uneasy at the position in which he finds himself, uncertain of Montezuma's intentions, and fearful of an assault; and he bade me try to find out, as far as might be, what was the general opinion respecting the Spaniards."
"The opinion of the ignorant," Cacama said, with a contemptuous wave of the hand, "is worth nothing. They go where they are led. They believe what they are last told. They shout when they are told to shout. They have no opinion of their own, upon aught but what relates to themselves.
"Among the nobles, the priests, and the learned there is much division of opinion. At present we wait; but frankly, at any moment a storm may follow the calm. The priests, who of course are bitterly hostile to the strangers, are without doubt working, and they have great power with all. But I should say that, on the whole, you are safer here with me than you would be across the water there. I do not mean that there is any immediate danger, but you must remember that Montezuma has been insulted and humiliated, and made to appear small in the sight of the people. He is one of the proudest of men, and although at present he feigns friendship with the Spaniards, a moment will come when he will revolt against being thus bearded in his capital; and he has but to wave his hand for these invaders to be wiped out.
"However, let us talk of other matters, at present. Of course, you are not thinking of returning tonight?"
"I intended to do so, and the canoe in which I came is waiting for me."
"We cannot think of letting you go," Cacama said, decidedly. "I will send an official back, with a message from you saying that you think you can do more, here, than by returning; and that you crave leave to stay for the present, but that you will come over, in the morning, and report to him all that you have learned here. You can leave here soon after daybreak, see your general, and be back again before the full heat of the day."
As Roger was in no hurry to return, Cuitcatl went out to dispatch an official with the message to Cortez; or rather to Malinche, as the message would then be delivered privately to him; whereas if Cortez were asked for, the man might be brought into his presence when engaged with some of his officers. Roger did not know whether the fact of his being away from the palace had been made public, for Cortez might consider it would cause discontent among some of his followers, were it known that their last-joined recruit was permitted to leave the town, whereas no one else was allowed to stir beyond the limits of their quarters.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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15
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: Again At Tezcuco.
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Until a late hour in the night, Roger sat talking to Cacama and his family. Although they had heard, from Bathalda, all that had happened from the time of their leaving Tezcuco to their arrival at Tlascala, he had to go over it again. Bathalda had told them that Roger had found a former acquaintance in Malinche, who was all powerful with the white leaders; and Amenche asked many questions concerning her--how Roger had known her before, and for how long; what she was like, and why he applied to her, instead of going straight to the white general.
"You have heard me speak of her before," Roger said, in answer to the first question. "I told you that I had learned your language from a Mexican slave girl, who was one of my attendants during the time I was at Tabasco. She was with me the whole time I was there, and if it had not been for learning the language from her, and conversing with her, I do not know how I should have got through the time. I was sorry to leave her behind, and promised her that, if ever I got rich enough here, I would send and purchase her freedom."
"You seem to have taken a strange interest in a slave girl!" Amenche said.
"It was natural that it should be so, Princess. I was little better than a slave, myself. At any rate I was a prisoner, and naturally took to the one person who was kind to me. We were companions and friends, rather than master and attendant; and directly I heard that she was with Cortez, and had gained great influence with him, I naturally went to her."
"Is she very beautiful?"
"I used not to think her beautiful at all, when we were at Tabasco together; but she has changed greatly during the months that have passed since I saw her. Yes, I think she is certainly beautiful now. But not so beautiful as others I have seen."
"But why did you go to her?" the girl again persisted.
"Because I cannot speak the language of the Spaniards; and it was necessary, for my safety, for them to believe that I am one of themselves, rescued from some Spanish ship cast, by a gale, on their shores when I was a little lad. Had I gone to Cortez direct, he would probably have guessed, from my dress and from my speaking the language, that this was how I came to be here; but had I not seen Malinche before I saw him, she would have recognized me, and would no doubt have told Cortez that she had known me from the time I was cast ashore, near Tabasco, somewhat over two years ago. He would then have known that I could not be a Spaniard, for if so, I could not in so short a time have lost my own language."
Cacama now interposed, and asked many questions about Tlascala and its people.
"Some of the Tlascalan princes and caziques gave their daughters as wives to the Spaniards, did they not?"
"Six of them did so," Roger replied. "The ladies were first baptized into the Christian religion, and then married by the priests to as many of the chief leaders of the Spaniards."
"And what did you think of that?" Cacama asked.
"I did not think much about it," Roger said; "for it was no business of mine, but that of the ladies and their friends. It was certainly a politic course, on the part both of Cortez and the Tlascalans, and bound the alliance more closely together.
"But methinks that, upon such work as the Spaniards are engaged in, a man were better without a wife, both for his sake and her own. A man who goes into battle with no one but himself to think of may take joy in the strife; for he knows that, if he falls, it makes no very great matter to anyone. But if he has a wife hard by, who will be left a widow if he is slain, it must be ever present to him while he is fighting; and though he may not fight less stoutly, it must cause him grievous anxiety, and take away the pleasure of fighting."
"You have already told us that the white men are good husbands," the queen said.
"I do not know that they are in any way better, in that respect, than your own people, Queen Maclutha. There are good and bad--men who treat their wives well, and men who neglect them."
"But you told us that they only had one wife, each," she said; "and that even kings are kept to this rule, as well as their humblest subjects."
"That is so," Roger said. "One man one wife, whatever his rank. There is no occasion for the palaces of our king to be as extensive as those of Montezuma."
"And if these officers who have married here were to return home, and leave their wives behind them, could they not marry again?"
"No," Roger said; "as the ladies have become Christians, and been married according to the rites of the Church, they could not be lawfully set aside."
"And you have no wife in England, Roger Hawkshaw?" Cacama asked.
Roger laughed merrily.
"Why, I was but a boy when I left home; and as far as marriage goes, I am but a boy still. We consider it young enough, if we take a wife at five and twenty; and I lack six years of that, yet."
"You are a man," Cacama said gravely. "You are a man in size and strength, and a man in courage; as you well showed, the other day, when you were attacked by numbers of our best soldiers. You are thoughtful and prudent. Years go for nothing. You are a man, and even in years you are not, according to our customs, too young to marry.
"Now, tell me--we have heard much of that bad business at Cholula--tell me, do you think that there was treachery on the part of the people, or was it a mere pretext of the Spaniards to fall upon the inhabitants, and sack the town?"
"I am sure that treachery was intended," Roger said. "We learned it from three people, a lady and two priests; and the Cholula nobles, themselves, when taxed by Cortez with their intention to fall upon us, admitted that the accusation was true. Besides, the whole people were under arms and ready to attack, and poured out under their leaders to the assault, the moment the first gun told that their intentions were discovered. No, there is no doubt, whatever, that a general destruction of the white men was intended; and although the punishment inflicted was terrible, I cannot say that it was not justified, under the circumstances.
"Moreover, we knew that there was a Mexican army, lying but a short distance away, in readiness to enter the town and join in the attack against us."
"It was a terrible error, as well as a crime on the part of the emperor, if it be true that he was concerned in it," Cacama said. "If so, he took no one here into his counsel, but acted wholly on the advice of the priests."
"That is where the general considers the danger lies. He would trust the caziques, for men of rank in whatever country are faithful to their word, and do not pretend friendship when they mean hostility. Were Montezuma guided by them, there would be no fear of treachery; but as he has given himself to the priests, and they can, by means of the oracles, persuade him to almost anything, Cortez feels that the danger is great."
"Well now, we had better to rest," Cacama said, rising. "You are to start with the first streak of light, so as to be back before the sun is high, and it is long past midnight now.
"Cuitcatl, it would, I think, be well for you to accompany our friend. A rumor may have got abroad that he is again our guest, and those who longed for his blood, before, may long for it again. I would not that he should cross the lake unattended."
"I was about to propose doing so," the young noble said. "I know the priests, and can guess that, at present, a white victim is what they most of all desire. Therefore, I will certainly accompany him to Mexico."
Roger and his Mexican friend were taken across the lake in a canoe, rowed by four strong men. It was one of the private canoes of the palace, without the royal insignia; used for the conveyance of messengers, and built for speed. She took them across to the capital in a very short time and, entering one of the canals, landed them close to the palace occupied by the Spaniards.
The sentry at the gate was surprised at the height of the young Aztec chief who approached, and did not recognize him until he spoke. Even then he would not let him pass, until he called an officer.
"I have been absent by the order of the general," Roger said.
"I have no doubt it is all right," the officer replied, "but I must take you to him."
Cortez had only just risen, for the hour was still very early, and the sun was but now showing himself over the mountains to the east. He was taking a cup of chocolate.
"That is all right," he said to the officer, as soon as he saw Roger. "Sancho has been absent upon my orders."
He then called Malinche from an adjoining room.
"You are back earlier than I expected," he said, as soon as the interpreter entered. "Have you any serious news?"
"No, General. Cacama is himself friendly. He is unaware of any treacherous designs on the part of the emperor, but admits that the situation is a critical one, and that it is possible the influence of the priests may again induce Montezuma to take a hostile action."
"Do you think we could count upon him as an ally?"
"I think not, sir; although I have not as yet sounded him. Cacama has been very badly treated by Montezuma, and he by no means approves of the emperor's conduct throughout this matter, but I think that his patriotism would overcome his sense of private wrong. I can tell you more farther on. Cacama has invited me to stay with him, for the present, and I think I might be of more use to you there than here."
"I think so, too," Cortez said; "and indeed, you have not yet entered my band regularly, like the rest. It is right that you should have freedom of action, especially as you are the only man among us who knows anything of the Mexicans; for even Marina knows nothing of this side of the mountains."
"Don't you think that you will run great risk in staying there alone?" Marina asked, on her own account.
"Some danger, no doubt, Malinche; but I shall be on my guard, and Cacama will take precautions for my safety. Even the priests would not venture to seize me in his palace, and the Tezcucans are far less bigoted than the people of this city."
"I do not think he will be in much greater danger there than he would be here," Cortez said, when these remarks were translated to him. "We are all in danger. We are sitting on a mine that may explode any minute. The young fellow is sharp witted, and with his knowledge of the language and the people can be trusted to take care of himself.
"Sancho, if anything should happen to us, and you should hear that we have been destroyed, I charge you to carry the news to the coast, and to order in my name that all shall embark on board ship and sail to Cuba. It would be useless to try to maintain a foothold here. Spain would avenge it, and with ampler means than mine carry out the conquest of this country."
A few minutes later, Roger, having said goodbye to Juan and Pedro, and told them that he might be absent for some time, started to Tezcuco. They had scarcely left the town, when a canoe with six rowers issued from one of the canals and followed in their wake.
"See, they are after us!" Cuitcatl said, looking back. "Doubtless the Spanish quarters are closely watched, to see who enter and leave them; and the news that a tall young noble had entered was carried at once to the authorities, and the boat was got in readiness to follow when you left, and see who you were and where you were going. However, they will not overhaul us. I bade the officer in charge of the canoes last night to pick me out four of his best men, and in so light a boat we shall travel as fast as that behind us, although they have two extra hands."
"Yes, and they have four sitters," Roger said, looking back.
"No doubt they had orders to arrest you, and bring you back. They did not reckon on our speed. The two extra men destroy their chances of coming up to us, altogether.
"Row hard, men. I don't want that boat to overtake us."
The paddlers redoubled their exertions, and the light boat almost flew along over the water. For a few minutes those in the canoe behind also did their utmost; but it was plain that they were falling behind, rather than gaining. Then one of the officials stood up, and shouted an order for them to stop. They were some distance behind, but the words could be plainly heard.
The Tezcucans looked scared as they heard the words, "In the name of the Emperor."
"Never mind them," Cuitcatl said. "We are acting under the orders of our king. Besides, we are so far away that they cannot be sure their words are heard. If they have any complaint to make they can make it to Cacama, and he will answer them."
The boat was soon out of hearing of its pursuer, who fell farther and farther behind, and was a good mile away when they landed at Tezcuco.
"Run the boat up and lay her by the side of the others," Cuitcatl said to the rowers. "Then go at once to your homes, and say naught to anyone about the journey you have made. The officials will find out what they want to know as to whom we are, and will care nothing as to who were the individual boatmen who rowed us. Still, it is as well to keep silent.
"Of course, Roger," for the lad had asked him to drop the second part of his name, "it will soon be known that you have returned here. With such numbers of persons in the palace, it cannot be hidden; besides, you are well known, by sight, to most people in the town."
"I quite see that, Cuitcatl, and perceive no good in trying in any way to conceal myself. These long legs of mine cannot be got rid of, and tell their story too plainly. However, it makes no difference. I shall be safe in the palace, and shall only go abroad in the daytime. They will not venture to try to carry off, openly, one known to be under Cacama's protection."
Cacama, on their return, agreed with Roger that it was of no use to try to conceal his identity; and the lad, after washing the stains from his face and hands, took his accustomed place at the banquet, and was greeted by many of his former acquaintances.
After the meal Cacama told him that, having heard from Bathalda of the wonderful shooting he had made with his great bow, he was desirous of seeing it; and that by his orders the forester, who had been sent for the evening before by Cuitcatl, had been directing some of the artisans to manufacture a weapon of similar strength.
"We will go and see how it is getting on," he said.
Proceeding to the workshops attached to the palace, they found that the bow was finished. It was constructed of a very tough, but elastic, wood. Three slips of this had been placed together and bound with sinews. Bathalda ran forward when he saw Roger, and taking his hand carried it to his forehead. Roger shook the stout fellow's hand, heartily.
"He is a brave fellow," he said to Cuitcatl, who had accompanied them, "and fought manfully and well. Had he not guarded my back during the fight, I should not be here to tell the tale, now."
"We have made the bow according to our instructions," the head of the artisans said respectfully to the king; "but it does not seem to us possible that anyone can use it. Three of us have tried together to string it, but in vain."
"It is a good bow," Roger said, examining it.
"Do they shoot with weapons like that, over there?" Cacama asked, nodding in the direction of Mexico.
"No," Roger said, "for the most part they use crossbows, and their bows are much smaller than this. The English are the only people who use bows like this. They are our national weapons, and outside our island there are few, indeed, who can even bend them. As to the stringing, it is knack rather than strength. See here," and taking the bow, which was just his own height, he placed his knee against it, bent it and slipped the string into the notch, with ease. Then holding it at arms length, he drew it till the string touched his ear.
"It is a great deal stiffer than that I made before, Bathalda; and is about the strength of those we use at home. Now for the arrows."
These had been made by another set of men, and were an inch or two over a yard in length, with copper tips.
While he was examining them Cacama had taken up the bow, but though a strong and vigorous man for his race, he could bend it but a very short distance.
"It is a wonderful weapon," he said, "and I should not have thought that mortal man, whatever his color, could have used it. Now, let us go down into the practice yard.
"Cuitcatl, do you fetch the queen and her ladies, to look on."
"I am no great marksman, Prince," Roger said. "I am perhaps somewhat better than an average shot, but I have seen marksmen who could do feats that I would not even attempt."
They descended to the piece of ground, where many of the young nobles were engaged in shooting, and in practice with arms. Roger had often been there before, but had carefully abstained from taking any part in the mimic contests; for he knew that men who are beaten sometimes feel malice, and he was anxious to keep on the best terms with all. Cuitcatl had often urged him to try a bout with himself, or others, with the sword; but this, too, he had always declined, and his friend had supposed that he was aware his skill was by no means equal to his strength. But now the Spaniards had proved to the Mexicans the fighting powers of white men, Roger had no longer any reasons for hanging back.
As soon as he was seen approaching with Cacama, the Mexicans abandoned their sport, and gathered round. The story of the defeat of a band of Montezuma's soldiers by the white man had been whispered abroad, and Cuitcatl had mentioned to his friends what he had heard, from Bathalda, of the mighty bow Roger had used; but when they saw the weapon with which he was now provided, their wonder was to a large extent mingled with incredulity. They passed it from hand to hand, tried but in vain to bend it, and murmured among themselves that the thing was impossible.
"What will you have for your mark," Cacama asked.
"One of these targets will do well enough," he said, pointing to those at which the Mexicans had been shooting.
These were boards about five feet six in height, and some fourteen inches in width, presenting the size of a man. They were painted white and supported by a leg hinged behind them. The distance at which the Mexicans had been shooting was about forty yards.
Roger stepped a hundred from one of them, and made a mark upon the ground.
"An English archer would laugh at a target like that," he said to Cacama, "but it is nigh three years since I practiced. I have seen men who could with certainty, at this distance, hit a bird the size of a pigeon sitting on the top of that target, twenty times in succession, and think it by no means extraordinary shooting."
The queen and some of her ladies now appeared upon a terrace looking down into the courtyard. Roger took the bow, fitted an arrow to the string, and drew it to his ear--a murmur of astonishment rising from the Aztecs. There was a pause for a moment, and then the arrow sped. There was a sharp tap as it struck the target, and stood quivering in it just in the center line about four feet from the ground.
"The bow is an excellent one," Roger said, and quickly discharged two more arrows, both of which struck within two or three inches of the first. As it was the power of the bow, rather than his own shooting, that Roger wished to exhibit, he now had the target removed a hundred yards farther back, and others placed one on each side of it. At this distance he discharged three more arrows, shooting more carefully than before. All three struck the boards, although at varying heights; and a shout of surprise arose from the lookers on.
"How far will it carry?" Cacama asked.
"It might carry another hundred yards, but the aim cannot be depended upon at over two hundred yards, even by good shots," Roger said. "Of course, the longer ranges are useful for firing at a body of men. I should say that large tree would be about the extreme range. If you will send two men down to it, I will see whether I can shoot as far. We should not see the arrow from here. Will you tell them to stand one on each side of the tree, but well away from it? There is no saying where the arrow may go, at this distance."
When two of the attendants had taken their places, twenty or thirty yards from the tree, Roger drew the bow to the fullest and, giving to the arrow the elevation he had been taught, as most suitable for an extreme range, unloosed the string. The arrow, which was of dark wood, glanced through the air. The eye could follow it only a short distance. No sound was heard this time, but in a few seconds the Mexicans were seen running towards the tree.
"Do not touch the arrow," Cacama shouted; and then, followed by the crowd, for the numbers had greatly increased, as the news of what was going on had spread through the palace, he walked forward to the tree.
The massive stem was more than four feet in diameter, and within a few inches of the center, and at a height of three feet from the ground, the arrow was sticking. The Mexicans were silent with astonishment, mingled with a certain amount of awe, for shooting like this seemed to them to be supernatural.
"And you said you were not a good shot!" the king said.
"It was a pure accident," Roger asserted. "I might shoot twenty arrows, and not hit the tree again. I had not the least idea that I should do so. I only wished to show you how far a well-made bow would send an arrow, when drawn by an Englishman."
Cacama ordered the arrow to be left in the tree, and a large stone to be placed at the spot from which Roger had fired.
"They shall remain," he said, "as a memento of this shot. I will introduce, among my people, the custom which you say prevails in your country; and every child shall be bound to practice, daily, with bows and arrows. I do not think that any of our race will ever come to use such a weapon as that, but they may at least learn to bend bows greatly stronger than those we are accustomed to use."
"They will doubtless do so," Roger said. "It is a matter of practice, and of strengthening certain muscles of the right arm; for a man far stronger than I am would be unable to bend that bow, had he not been trained to its use from the earliest age.
"I should recommend, Prince, that you not only give the order you have spoken of, but institute a monthly gathering, with prizes for skill, and honors to the best marksmen. In this way all would take an interest in the sport, and it would become as popular, among your youth, as it is with us."
Again Roger's bow was passed round. It had seemed to bend so easily, in his hands, that those who had not tried it before could scarce credit its strength, until they had handled it; but even the most powerful men found that they could only draw the arrow a few inches.
As they walked towards the terrace, upon which the queen and her ladies were standing, Cuitcatl said: "I had intended to ask you, Roger, to try a bout of sword play with some of us; but I will not do so now. After what we have seen of the strength of your arm, I should be sorry, indeed, to stand up against you, even with blunted weapons or with sticks; for there would be no resisting a downright blow. The news came to us of the terrible blows struck by the Spaniards, and how they clove through sword, helmet, and head. I scarce credited them before, but now I can well believe them to be true."
"Well, Maclutha," Cacama said; "what think you of what you have seen? No wonder those who met with the white men, in battle, said that they had supernatural strength; and that even the sturdy Tlascalans could not resist them. We will have the bow hung up in the armory, with a great gold chain; which shall be the reward of the first man who can, like our friend, draw the arrow to the head."
"It is wonderful," the queen said; "and it would be well indeed if, as you say, the youth of Tezcuco could shoot like that."
Amenche said nothing, but her cheeks were flushed with excitement and pleasure.
That evening, when Cacama was conversing alone with Roger, he said: "My friend, you know that the Tlascalan caziques have given their daughters as wives to some of the Spaniards. I was talking to you of marriage, last night, and what you said about your age was ridiculous. You are a man, and a warrior. I now offer you the hand of my sister Amenche. She loves you, as Maclutha and I have seen for some time. From what you said, I gather that your religion would not regard the ceremony as binding, did she not accept your God; but I do not think she would raise any objection on that score, seeing, as we all do, that your God has proved more powerful than ours."
Roger was struck with astonishment at the offer. He had regarded marriage as a matter not to be thought of, for many years; and until lately he would have said that, if he ever did marry, it would be the little cousin who had, three years before, said goodbye to him at Plymouth. But of late he had felt the charm of this beautiful little princess; and since the night when she had come down to say farewell to him, in the garden, and he had felt her hand tremble in his, and had seen a tear glisten on her cheek in the moonlight, he had thought a good deal of her.
The chances of his ever returning to England were comparatively slight. Dangers of all kinds surrounded him. The Spaniards might be attacked and massacred at any moment, and if so, he would probably share their fate. If, however, he was married to this Mexican princess, and a brother-in-law of the King of Tezcuco, he would be regarded as one of the people. His position would be a high and honorable one, and although his life would be far different from that to which he had hitherto looked forward, it might be a very happy one.
He sat in silence for two or three minutes after Cacama had ceased speaking, and then said: "Forgive me, Prince, for not responding, at once, to an offer so far above my deserts, and of the honor of which I am most deeply sensible. There could be no greater happiness, for a man, than to be the husband of one so fair, and in every way charming, as the Princess Amenche; but your offer came upon me altogether as a surprise. As I have told you, I have hitherto regarded myself as still a lad, and marriage as an event not to be thought of for years; but as you do not regard my youth as an objection, there is no reason why I should do so.
"It is of the future that I rather think. It seems to me, now, that I could be content to settle down for life here, with so charming a wife; but I cannot say that I might always be of that mind. The love of country is strong in every man, and the time might come when, if opportunity offered, I might long to return home to England."
"That I have talked over with the queen, and with Amenche, herself," Cacama said. "My sister naturally would be sorry to leave her own country, but if the time came that you should wish to return home, she would not hesitate to make the sacrifice, and to accompany you. A Mexican woman, when she loves, is ready to give up everything."
For a moment Roger turned the matter rapidly over in his mind, and saw that, even were he disposed to refuse Amenche's hand, which indeed he was not, it would be almost impossible for him to do so. It would be a deep offense to this friendly prince. It would be a cruel blow to the girl, who had confessed her devotion for him. As to Dorothy, she would have deemed him dead years ago; and should he ever return, he would find that she had long since been married; for the daughters of the wealthy merchant, Diggory Beggs, would not want for suitors.
He held out his hand to the prince.
"I accept most gratefully your offer, Cacama, and promise that, so far as in me lies, I will do my best to render your sister happy, and to prove myself worthy of her choice."
"I am heartily glad," the prince said warmly. "I love my sister, and I have watched you closely. I believe you to be worthy of her, and I am sure that in you I shall find, not only a friend and a brother, but a wise counselor and a valiant leader of my troops; and that, with your advice, I shall be able to advance my people in the arts of peace as well as war, and perhaps to win back my father's possessions.
"As to the question of religion, of which you spoke, there is indeed no difficulty. My grandfather, the great Nezahualcoyotl, the wisest and most powerful of our monarchs, did not believe in the Aztec gods. He built a great temple which he dedicated to the Unknown God. Here he worshiped, himself, and did his utmost to induce his subjects to abandon the cruel worship of the Aztec gods. He forbade all sacrifices, even of animals, and permitted only flowers and sweet-scented perfumes to be offered up on the altars. When, after his death, the Aztec power increased, and that of Tezcuco diminished, the people again embraced the cruel faith of the Aztecs. Neither my father nor myself have been strong enough to set ourselves against the priests; but he, as well as I, believed that my grandfather was right, and that the Unknown God is the ruler of the world. My sister has of course, been educated by the priests; but she knows my father's opinions, and my own. She has a horror of the human sacrifices, and believes that there must be a greater and better God than those who are said to delight in blood. So you need not fear that she will make any difficulty as to accepting what you tell her of the white man's God.
"Now I will fetch her in to you. I think it will be better to allow a short time to pass, and to see how matters go in Mexico, before announcing to others your approaching marriage. If any misfortune should happen to the Spaniards, I should at once publish the news, and have the ceremony performed without loss of time; proclaiming to the people that, although white, you are not of the same race as the Spaniards. If matters go on well, Montezuma himself will doubtless be present at his niece's marriage; and I shall, of course, invite Malinzin and all his officers."
The prince left the room, and in a few minutes returned with his wife, the latter leading Amenche by the hand.
"My friend, Roger Hawkshaw," the young king said, gravely; "I hereby promise to bestow upon you the hand of my sister Amenche. May you find in her a good, loving, and obedient wife."
"I, on my part," Roger said, taking the girl's hand, which the queen held out to him, "promise to be a true and loving husband to her."
The girl, who had not raised her eyes since she entered the room, looked up at the tall figure with an expression of perfect confidence.
"I will be true and obedient," she said softly; "and will love you all my life."
"What do you do next, in your country?" Cacama asked, with a smile.
"This is how an engagement is sealed, with us," Roger said; and drawing the girl up to him, he stooped and kissed her lips.
Three days later, as Roger was sitting with Cuitcatl, an attendant entered and said that the king wished to see them, immediately. They hastened to the royal apartment. Cacama was walking up and down, with an angry frown upon his face; while the queen and princess were sitting on the couch, pale and agitated.
"Strange news has come from Mexico," Cacama said. "The white men have seized Montezuma, and are holding him prisoner in their quarters. Did anyone ever hear of such an outrage? Mexico is in a state of consternation, but at present none know what to do."
"It seems incredible," Roger exclaimed. "Are you sure of your news?"
"Quite certain," the prince replied.
The news was indeed true. Cortez had found his position unbearable. He believed that the attack upon the Spaniards, on the coast, as well as the meditated treachery at Cholula, were the outcome of the emperor's orders. His native allies had heard rumors, in the town, that the bridges across the canals were all to be raised; in which case the Spaniards would be prisoners in their palace. He was in the Mexican capital, but he had as yet effected nothing towards the conquest of the country. At any moment he might hear of the landing of an expedition from Cuba, that his authority was revoked, and that another was to reap the benefit of all he had done.
He therefore called a council of his most trusted officers, and discussed the situation with them. All agreed that some step must, at once, be taken. Some were in favor of starting that night, and making their way out of the city before a sufficient force could be collected to oppose their retreat; while others were of opinion that it were better to retire openly, with the consent of Montezuma, whose conduct since they had reached the city appeared to be most friendly.
Cortez pointed out that both these methods would be retreats, and the whole country would probably rise against them. Moreover, even if they reached the coast, they would have sacrificed all they had won by their valor and sufferings. He proposed a measure which astonished even his boldest companions; namely, that they should go to the royal palace, and bring the emperor--by persuasion if possible, by force if necessary--to their quarters, and there hold him as a hostage for their safety.
The proposal was agreed to, and on the following morning Cortez asked for an interview with the emperor, which was at once granted. He proceeded to the palace with his principal officers, ordering the soldiers to follow in groups of twos and threes, so as not to attract particular attention.
Montezuma began to converse with his usual courtesy, but Cortez roughly cut him short, and charged him with being the author of the attack upon the garrison at the port. Montezuma indignantly denied this, and said that he would send at once, and arrest the author of the attack. Cortez replied that it was necessary, for their safety, that Montezuma should come and reside among them.
The emperor was thunderstruck at the proposal; but the soldiers crowded in, loud and threatening words were used, and Montezuma, in fear of his life, gave way. Had he possessed any of the courage with which he was credited, in his youth, he would have called his guards and nobles around him, and died fighting. Having once given in, he assumed the air of having done so voluntarily, and ordered his litter to be brought.
In the meantime his attendants, and the nobles who had been present, had spread the news through the city. The Mexicans, catching up their arms, ran to the rescue of their monarch; but the Spaniards closed round the litter and, had a blow been struck, the emperor would doubtless have been murdered. Montezuma exhorted the people to be tranquil, assuring them that he was going willingly; and the Mexicans, accustomed to implicit obedience, and fearing that harm would come to the emperor if a struggle began, drew back and allowed the Spaniards to pass; and Montezuma was conveyed, a prisoner, into the palace occupied by the Spaniards.
The act was one of almost unparalleled boldness; but as performed upon a monarch who was the host of his assailants, and with whom they were previously on the most friendly relations, it was an act of treachery, and reflects dishonor upon the fame of Cortez. At the same time, the position occupied by the Spaniards was so strange, and even desperate, as to palliate, though it cannot excuse, such a course of action.
There is no reason to believe that Montezuma intended to act treacherously. But he was under the domination of the priests, and had he again changed his mind, as he had already several times done, nothing could have saved the Spaniards from absolute destruction. No honorable man would have acted as Cortez did; but Cortez was a rough soldier, and moreover, firmly held the doctrine, at that time and long afterwards held by the Spaniards in their dealing with those of other religions, that faith need not be kept with heretics and heathen.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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16
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: A Treasure Room.
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"'Tis infamous," Cacama said, as he paced up and down the room; "but what is to be done? They hold him in their hands as a hostage, in the heart of his own capital, and among his own people; and are capable of hanging him from the walls, should a hostile movement be made against them.
"You were right, Roger Hawkshaw, in warning us against these men. They are without faith and honor, thus to seize a host who has loaded them with presents, who has emptied his treasuries to appease their greed, and who has treated them with the most extraordinary condescension. It is a crime unheard of, an act of base ingratitude, without a parallel. What is to be done?"
Roger was silent. Such a situation, so strange and unlooked for, confounded him.
"I should say," Cuitcatl burst out passionately, "that every Mexican should take up arms, and annihilate this handful of invaders. What though Montezuma fall? Better that a monarch should perish than a nation. Besides, Montezuma has shown himself unfit to govern. It is his weakness that has brought things to this pass. Think you that the white men could ever have advanced beyond the plateau of Tlascala, had all the forces of Mexico barred the way? Think you that they could ever have entered the capital, had it been defended with resolution? One moment he flattered the strangers and loaded them with gifts; the next he was ready to send his forces against them. The Cholulans had good reason for believing that he designed the annihilation of the Whites, if he did not actually order the attack upon them.
"So on the seacoast. Had the chiefs believed that Montezuma was really friendly to the whites, would they ever have attacked them? There were two courses open: he might from the first have received the Spaniards frankly, and sent a mission to escort them honorably to the capital; or he might have called upon every man in his dominion to take up arms, and drive them into the sea. He took neither. It is he who has brought them here; and it is better, a thousand times, that he should die than that ruin should fall upon the country.
"My advice is, that the troops be called out; that messengers be sent to every city in the valley, bidding them send in their contingent; and that we march to aid the people of Mexico to annihilate this handful of treacherous white men."
Cacama was silent. The advice was in accordance with his own feelings and temperament; but the extreme reverence with which the Aztecs regarded their emperor paralyzed him.
"We shall see," he said, gloomily. "In a short time we shall know why Montezuma thus tamely suhmitted to be made a prisoner. He may have some motives which we cannot fathom. I cannot believe him to be a coward. No Aztec monarch, yet, has ever shown want of courage."
Three or four days later, another event occurred which heightened the fury of the Mexicans against the Spaniards. The cazique who had attacked the Spaniards on the coast arrived at Mexico, accompanied by his son and fifteen other chiefs who had acted with them. Montezuma referred the matter to the examination of Cortez. The cazique admitted the part he had taken in the attack on the Spaniards, and did not seek to shelter himself under royal authority; until sentence of death was passed on him and the other chiefs, when they all declared that they had acted on the authority of Montezuma. They were condemned to be burnt alive, in the space in front of the palace, and this sentence was carried out.
Not content with this, Cortez placed irons upon Montezuma himself, saying there could now be no longer a doubt as to his guilt. After the execution was carried out, Montezuma was released from his fetters.
The news of this insult to their monarch created a profound impression upon the Mexicans. Although they despised the weakness of a sovereign who appeared ready to suffer every indignity, and yet to claim an appearance of courtesy and goodwill towards his oppressors, the bolder spirits determined that the nation should be no longer humiliated in the person of its sovereign, and that even should it cost Montezuma his life, an effort should be made to overthrow his oppressors.
As soon as the news of the execution of the seventeen nobles, and of the indignity to Montezuma was received; Cacama said to Roger: "My friend, I can no longer retain you here. You have told me why you cannot have it proclaimed that you are of different blood to the Spaniards, and I quite understand your motives; but there are two reasons why, in that case, you must for a time return to the capital. My people would look upon me with scorn, did I retain here as my friend one whom they regard as the countryman of the men who have so outraged us. Moreover, you yourself cannot wish to stay. You have told me that Cortez has charged you to acquaint him with the state of feeling in this city; and were you to remain here, you would be placed in the painful position of either giving information which would ruin my plans, or of deceiving the man whom you nominally serve. I know that you would say nothing against me, but should I fail and the Spaniards triumph, Cortez would accuse you of being a traitor, and you would be put to death by him.
"Therefore, I think it in all ways best that you should return there, for the present. You will, of course, inform Cortez that I have sent you back because the feeling against the white men, on account of their treatment of the emperor, is so great that I felt that I could not protect you against their fury."
"I quite agree with you, Cacama. My position here has become a very painful one. I abhor, as much as you do, the doings of the Spaniards; and am perfectly ready to avow that I belong to another nation, and to join you in an enterprise against them."
"But that, as you have told me," Cacama said, "would cut off any chance of your ever being able to return to your own country."
"I am ready to accept that," Roger said firmly. "In marrying your sister, I shall become one of yourselves, and am ready to cast in my lot with you, altogether."
The prince was silent for a minute or two.
"No, Roger, I think that my plan is the best. Were you to do as you say, the Spaniards would be at once placed on their guard; while, save by the strength of your arm, you could aid but little in any enterprise against them. Moreover, if you return to the Spaniards, I shall have the satisfaction that, if I fall and ruin comes upon my house, you will take care of my sister, and that my wife will also have a protector. For all reasons, therefore, it is better you should go. But if aught is to be attempted against the Spaniards, I will take care to give you notice, so that you can leave them in disguise and come here, and so avoid their fate."
Although Roger's own feelings would have led him to throw in his lot openly against the Spaniards, he saw that Cacama's plan was the best. The boat was ordered to be at once got in readiness; and after a painful parting with Amenche, who wept bitterly, Roger left the palace; and again accompanied by Cuitcatl, in order to ensure his safety across the lake, was taken over to Mexico.
He at once sought the presence of Cortez, and through Marina explained to him that Cacama had sent him back, fearing that in the excited state of the population harm might come to him. He had, since he had been in Tezcuco, sent a letter across each day to Cortez, saying that all was tranquil there; that the young king was pursuing his ordinary round of court ceremonial, and was certainly, as far as he could learn, taking no steps whatever towards interfering with the affairs of the capital, although the imprisonment of Montezuma had evidently made a painful impression upon him.
Cortez asked him a few questions, and when he left the room said to Marina: "That young fellow must be watched, Marina. He has been brought up with these people, and must to some extent feel with them. I know that he is a friend of yours, but see that you say nothing to him on public affairs. Let him be kept wholly in the dark, as to our plans and intentions. This Cacama is, next to Montezuma, the most powerful and important of the Aztec chiefs. He is young and energetic, and although he has been so badly treated by Montezuma, he resents our treatment of him. Had it been otherwise he would probably, ere this, have made some propositions to us, through Sancho, for a closer alliance with us, on the understanding that the territories Montezuma has taken from him shall be returned.
"We must have Cacama's actions closely watched. There are other Aztecs who are willing enough to act as our spies, and who will keep us informed of what is going on. Hitherto their reports have agreed with Sancho's, but from his sending the young fellow back here, Cacama may now be intending to act against us."
Cacama, indeed, lost no time in setting to work, and began to form a league with many of the leading nobles, to rescue the emperor and destroy the Spaniards. Montezuma's brother Cuitlahua and many others agreed, at once, to join him; but the greater part of the Aztec nobles hung back, upon the ground that they did not like to move in the matter, without the orders of their emperor. Their refusal prevented any general rising taking place, and thus destroyed the last chance of Mexico retaining its independence.
Cortez learned from his spies what was going on, and would have marched against Tezcuco, had not Montezuma dissuaded him; telling him that Cacama was a powerful prince, and would certainly be aided by many other chiefs, and that the enterprise would be hazardous in the extreme. Cortez then endeavored to negotiate, but received a haughty answer from Cacama. He then tried threats, asserting the supremacy of the Spanish emperor.
Cacama replied "that he acknowledged no such authority, he knew nothing of the Spanish sovereign or his people, nor did he wish to know anything of them."
Cortez then invited Cacama to come to Mexico to discuss their differences; but Cacama had no faith in Spanish loyalty, and he replied "that when he did visit the capital, it would be to rescue it, as well as the emperor himself, and their common gods, from bondage. He should come, not with his hand upon his breast but on his sword, to drive out the Spaniards, who had brought such disgrace upon the country."
While this had been going on, Montezuma had still further forfeited all claim to sympathy, by the willingness with which he accepted the attentions of those who were, in fact, his gaolers. They paid him all the outward marks of respect, pretending still to regard him as a powerful sovereign; and he, in return, was present at their exercises and sports, took the greatest interest in two ships they were building for navigation on the lake, and in all respects behaved to them as if they were his best friends. He now carried his baseness still further, and informed Cortez that several of the Tezcucan nobles were regularly in his pay, and that it would be easy, through them, to capture Cacama and thus break up the confederacy.
Cortez at once took means to carry out the suggestion. The traitors invited Cacama to a conference, at a house overhanging the lake near Tezcuco. Upon going there he was seized by them, bound, placed in a boat, and carried to Mexico. He was there brought before Montezuma.
In spite of the perils of his position, Cacama bore himself nobly. He boldly accused his uncle of foul treachery, and with the cowardice which he had betrayed since the Spaniards had entered his kingdom. Montezuma handed him over to Cortez, who ordered him to be loaded with fetters and thrown into a dungeon. The emperor then issued an order, declaring that Cacama had forfeited his sovereignty by his rebellion, and that he therefore deposed him, and appointed a younger brother named Cuicuitzca in his place. The other leaders of the confederacy were all seized by the orders of Montezuma in their own cities, and brought in chains to the capital, where they were imprisoned with Cacama.
Upon Roger, the news of Cacama's arrest and imprisonment came like a thunderclap. He was in the habit of frequently seeing Malinche, who still retained the warm feeling of friendship for him that had originated at Tabasco, and with whom he often had long talks of their life in those days; but she had let no word drop as to the doings of Cacama. She had questioned him somewhat closely as to his relations with that prince; and he had made no secret to her of the fact that Cacama had promised him his sister's hand in marriage. As many of the Spaniards had already married the daughters of great caziques, this appeared to her natural; and she had congratulated him upon the prospect of an alliance which would bring him wealth and land, but had said that, for the present, it would not do to think of marriage, as it would be unsafe for him to leave the capital.
When therefore Roger heard of the misfortune that had befallen Cacama, he was filled alike with surprise and consternation, and hurrying to Malinche, begged her to use her influence with Cortez to spare the young prince's life.
"I have already done so," she said; "and he has promised that no blood shall be shed, though the chiefs who have leagued themselves with Cacama must all be imprisoned. The safety of the army requires it. No harm, however, shall befall Cacama, of that be assured. I may tell you, now, that it has been settled that his brother Cuicuitzca shall be appointed Lord of Tezcuco in his place. This will be done by a decree, tomorrow."
"Malinche, I must go at whatever hazard to warn Cacama's wife and sister, in order to give them the opportunity of leaving the palace before this young prince arrives. Pray obtain for me leave from Cortez to go away for twenty-four hours. You can tell him of the interest I have in the matter."
"I will manage it for you," Malinche said; "but as your princess is also sister to the new king, I see no reason for uneasiness."
"She is devoted to Cacama," Roger replied; "and would not, I feel sure, consent to remain in the palace with the usurper."
"You had best advise her," Malinche said, with a little nod of the head, "to disguise her sentiments, and make the best of the matter. It may make, you know, a good deal of difference in the amount of dowry you will get with her."
"I am not greedy, Malinche," Roger said; "but the present is, at any rate, no time for talking of marriage."
"Most of the officers have married," Malinche said.
"They may have done so, but they are officers, and can maintain their wives in all honor and respect, and have apartments allotted to them here. I have neither rank nor station, and shall certainly not ask my princess to share my rough quarters as a soldier. There is no hurry. As I told you but a year ago, Malinche, I am scarcely out of my boyhood; and there will be plenty of time when matters settle down, and we see what is going to happen, to think of marrying."
"I will go and speak to Cortez at once, and get leave for you. But you had best disguise yourself well--Tezcuco will be in an uproar tonight; for the capture of Cacama will be known there ere many hours, if it is not known already."
She soon returned with the required permission. This time Roger dressed himself in the attire of a trader, as being less likely to attract attention. Malinche again secured a boat for him, and having dyed his face and hands, he started at once, as it would be dark before he reached Tezcuco. Since Montezuma had been captive in their hands, there was no longer any fear of an attack being made upon the Spaniards; and the soldiers were now able to come and go through the town, at pleasure.
Upon landing, Roger at once made his way to the palace. There was great excitement in the town. The people were assembled in crowds, discussing the news that had reached them; and even at the palace gate the guards were careless of their duty, and Roger entered without question.
He hurried direct to the royal apartments. An official who would have barred his way allowed him to pass at once, when he recognized his identity.
When he entered, he found a scene of grief and confusion. The queen was extended upon a couch, weeping bitterly; while Amenche and some of her ladies, although themselves weeping, were trying to console her.
The princess gave a cry of joy when she saw him and, running forward, threw herself into his arms.
"You have heard the news?" she exclaimed. "Cacama is lost. These monsters will put him to death."
"I can reassure you as to that," Roger said. "He is a captive, but his life is not in danger. Malinche has interceded for him, and Cortez has promised that his life shall be spared."
A cry of gladness burst from all present.
"I have other and less pleasant news to give you, Amenche," Roger whispered in her ear. "Get rid of all these ladies. My news must be for you, only."
A minute or two later, the queen dismissed her ladies.
"The news I have to tell you," Roger went on, "is that tomorrow Montezuma will issue a decree deposing Cacama, and appointing Cuicuitzca Lord of Tezcuco."
An exclamation of anger and indignation broke from the queen and Amenche.
"He cannot do it," the latter exclaimed, passionately. "It is beyond his power. The emperor has a voice in the council, but beyond that he has no power to make or unmake the Lords of Tezcuco."
"At the present moment," Roger said gravely; "he has got the Spanish power at his back; or rather, he is but the mouthpiece of the Spaniards. They are the masters, and care nothing for the law or usages of your country."
"The Tezcucans will not receive Cuicuitzca," Amenche said. "Everyone knows that he is weak and cowardly, and of late he has been at Mexico, dancing attendance on the Spaniards. They will never receive him."
The queen raised her head from the couch.
"We must not build on that, Amenche. He comes, sent here by the whites; and when Mexico dares not rise against them, you may be sure that the people here will not dare to provoke their anger. Besides, who have they to lead them? Was not Cacama betrayed by his own nobles? Let us send for Cuitcatl, and hear what he advises us."
Cuitcatl, on his arrival, was so thunderstruck on hearing that Montezuma had so debased himself, to the Spaniards, as to depose his own nephew, whose only fault was patriotism, and who had been endeavoring to effect his rescue, that he was for a minute or two speechless with indignation.
"The gods have, indeed, deserted us," he said; "when they have turned a monarch who was considered brave and honorable into a base slave. May their vengeance fall upon him! May the curse of our ruined country descend upon the man who is the real author of our misfortunes!"
"Do you think, Cuitcatl," Amenche asked, "that the people will receive this usurper?"
"I fear, indeed, that they will do so," he replied. "Montezuma has appointed him, and Montezuma's name still has power. At any rate, it will afford them an excuse for submission. Besides, how could they fight when so many of our own nobles are treacherous? Doubtless Cacama will not be the only victim, and Montezuma will, at the orders of the Spaniards, disgrace all who have acted with him."
"Then what would you advise us to do? We are both resolved that we will not await the coming of this usurper."
"My house is at your service," Cuitcatl said. "It lies, as you know, near the foot of the hills; and whatever strife may go on here, its quiet is little likely to be invaded. Cuicuitzca will not concern himself at present with you, nor would he venture to take any hostile steps against you; for did he do so, it would excite a storm of indignation.
"As to you, Princess, as his own sister, and of the royal blood, you could if you liked stay here, as at present; and indeed, were it not that I am sure you would not leave the queen, I should advise you to do so; for you might then act in the interests of Cacama, should you see an opportunity."
Amenche shook her head.
"No," she said, "brother though he is, I would not bend my head before a usurper, while Cacama lives. When do you think we had better leave here?"
"I should say it were best to leave at once," Cuitcatl replied. "I will order three or four litters to be prepared; for yourselves and, say, two of your most trusted attendants. Bathalda will find, in the town, men on whom he can rely to take you. In this way none here will know where you have gone. I will have the litters in readiness at a short distance from the palace, and you can then issue out by the garden gate, unobserved. I shall, of course, myself escort you."
"What shall we take with us, Cuitcatl?"
"I will get, in addition to those who carry the litters, five or six porters. These I will bring up through the gardens to the private door, and Roger and I will carry down to them such parcels of your clothes as you may make up. I should then make up two large caskets with your own jewels, those of Cacama, and some of the most valuable stones and jewels from the royal treasury--leaving all the royal ornaments worn on state occasions, so that the usurper will not know that any have been abstracted."
"I would rather take nothing but my own and Cacama's personal jewels," the queen said.
"The contents of the whole treasury are his, by rights; and you must remember, Madam, that jewels may be very useful to you. You will have to work for Cacama, and unhappily there are many who are not insensible to bribes; and the possession of valuable jewels may enable you to be of great assistance to the king."
"I did not think of that," the queen said. "Yes, you are right. There is a hoard stowed away by the late king, and by his father before him. Its existence is only known to my husband and myself. I have never seen it, but Cacama tells me that it is of immense value; and was to be used only in case of an extreme emergency, and danger to the state. We can take what we choose from this separate hoard, and Cuicuitzca will find, from the list in the hands of the chief of the treasury, that the royal store is untouched."
"That will be vastly better, indeed," Cuitcatl said. "It is well that he should have no possible cause of complaint against you. Where is this hidden receptacle?"
"Before I show it you, I will send all our attendants to bed, save the two we will take with us--my own maid, and Amenche's."
"I will be going. Roger Hawkshaw will help you," Cuitcatl said. "It will take some time for Bathalda to get the litters and the men.
"It is now ten o'clock. In three hours the litters shall be outside the little gate of the garden, and I will bring six porters to the private door at the foot of the stairs."
"That will be enough," the queen said. "Two will be ample for our garments, and you and Roger Hawkshaw can take the jewels; which, when we start, can go in the litters with us."
Cuitcatl left. The two ladies who were to accompany the party were then called in, and informed of what had taken place, and that they had been chosen to accompany the queen and princess in their flight.
"Tell all the others," the queen said, "that we are overcome with the news we have received, and will dispense with all further attendance, except your own, for the night. When all is quiet, make up your jewels and such clothes as you may wish to bring in bundles. Then go to the wardrobe room and make up two bundles, each as much as a man can carry, of my garments; and two of the same size, of those of the princess. Take all our jewels out of the caskets, and put them in with our clothes."
When the two waiting ladies had retired, the queen said to Roger: "Now come with me, and we will open the treasure closet."
The palace was by this time hushed and quiet, the greater part of the courtiers had long since left, having hurried away to their homes when the news came of Cacama's arrest; and the remainder had gone to friends in the town or neighborhood, as it was thought probable that the Spaniards might, at once, send a force to take possession of the palace, and arrest all found there.
Taking some keys from a strong coffer in Cacama's room, and bidding Roger take a torch from the wall, the queen led the way to the royal treasury. A massive door was first unlocked, and in a large room were seen ranged vessels of gold and silver; strong boxes containing gold necklaces, armlets, and other ornaments; while on lower shelves were bars of gold and silver, ready to be worked up.
They passed through this room into another the same size. Around it ran deep shelves, in which were piled the treasury papers; with the accounts of the royal revenues, and the tributes paid by the various cities and villages and land owners of the kingdom. In one corner stood a small cupboard of about four feet high, also filled with papers. The queen put her hand inside, and touched a small spring at the back.
"Now," she said to Roger; "pull at that corner of the cupboard."
He obeyed her instructions, and at a vigorous pull the cupboard, which had appeared solidly embedded in the wall, swung round on one of its angles. Nothing, however, was to be seen save a bare wall behind it.
"Now, Roger Hawkshaw, take your dagger and cut away that plaster--for it is but plaster, though it looks like stone."
Roger obeyed. The task was an easy one, for the plaster was but half an inch thick, and came off in flakes; showing a massive copper door, three feet six in height, and three feet in width, behind it. No keyhole was visible.
"Press upwards against the lintel," the queen said. "That will release the catch of the door."
Roger did so, and at the same moment pushed with his shoulder against the door, and it swung round with ease.
"Do you enter first, with the torch, and we will follow," the queen said.
Roger found himself in a room about twelve feet square. At the farther end was a pile of gold bars, four feet deep and as much high, extending right across the room. On the floor, along the other two sides, were ranged a number of large chests.
"Open these," the queen said. "The gold is of no use to us."
The chests were full of manufactured gold ornaments, many of them studded with jewels. Roger was astounded at the amount of wealth thus stored away.
"Cacama told me," the queen said, "that even the treasure houses of Montezuma are poor, in comparison to the treasure his grandfather and father stowed away here; and I can well believe it. You have not opened that small chest, yet."
This was opened, and was found to contain a number of bags which were full of pearls, turquoise, and other precious stones, of large size and immense value.
"We will take this chest away, as it stands," the queen said.
"It would be awkward to carry," Roger objected. "It is very heavy, and its shape would tell at once that it contained valuables. The contents do not weigh many pounds, and could easily be wrapped up in a cloth and put into one of the litters, without exciting observation. If you will allow me, I will go back to one of the sleeping rooms and fetch two or three thick rugs."
He hurried away, and in a few minutes returned. The bags were transferred from the chest to one of the rugs he had brought, which was then wrapped round and tied into a bundle. On two other rugs were placed heaps of necklaces and other ornaments from the larger chests, until each contained, as nearly as Roger could guess by lifting them, some sixty pounds' weight of gold ornaments. These were similarly tied up, and the three bundles were then carried out from the hidden room, and conveyed to the apartment they had before left.
Roger then went back to the treasury, closed the copper door, swept up and placed in a rug every particle of plaster, and then swung the cabinet back into its position, where it fastened with a loud click. So firmly was it fixed that, although Roger tried with his whole strength, it did not shake in the slightest; and the work was so admirably done that, from the closest inspection, he was unable to discern aught that would have shown that the cabinet was not built into the wall. He then returned to where the ladies were waiting him.
The queen urged him to take two or three of the bags of jewels, but this he absolutely refused to do.
"I am acting as Cacama's friend," he said; "and as the promised husband of his sister; and I should feel myself degraded, indeed, were I to receive even one of those jewels."
"But there is no saying when we shall meet again," the queen said. "There is no knowing what terrible events may occur."
"Whatever occurs, lady, I shall see you again, if I live," Roger said. "If not, of what use are the jewels to me?"
At the appointed hour, Cuitcatl returned.
"All is in readiness," he said.
The two attendants were summoned from the apartments where they had been waiting. Roger and his friend first carried down the bundles of clothing, and then took up the rugs containing the heavy gold ornaments; Roger taking, in addition, the small parcel with the jewels. The attendants then took up their own bundles, and the whole party proceeded downstairs, and out into the garden.
Cuitcatl led the way with the queen. Roger followed with Amenche, the two ladies with the porters came behind.
"How strange," Roger said. "Last time I came at night through this garden I was a fugitive, and you came down to bid me farewell. Now it is you who have to fly!"
"When shall we meet again?" the girl sobbed.
"I cannot tell you, dear; but if I live, we will meet again. Things may right themselves, yet; and at least, whatever happens to this unfortunate country, we may be happy together. I have a good friend in Malinche, and if the Spaniards conquer, Cortez will certainly give me leave to marry you. It is his policy to marry his soldiers to the daughters of Mexicans. If Cortez fails, and the Spaniards are finally driven out, Cacama will recover his own again, and can then proclaim that I am not of Spanish birth, and can give you to me. So you see that, whatever comes, there is hope that things will go happily with us."
"I am afraid, Roger. I fear there is to be no happiness in this unfortunate country."
"Then we must leave it together," Roger said cheerfully. "You are naturally depressed now, and see things in their darkest light; but you will grow more hopeful again, when you are once established in Cuitcatl's home. Arrange with him for Bathalda to act as messenger between us. He is faithful and brave, and will manage to reach me, whatever comes of it."
A few minutes later they were beyond the gardens. The four litters stood ready. The queen and princess and the two ladies took their seats in them, and the three bundles of valuables were also placed inside.
"I shall love you--I shall love you until death," Amenche sobbed out, and then the procession moved away, leaving Roger standing by himself.
Skirting the outside wall of the garden, he made his way to the shore of the lake. He found the boatmen asleep in their canoe. As soon as he aroused them, they seized their paddles and, on his taking his seat, pushed off.
"There is no occasion for speed," he said. "It is but two o'clock now, and it is of no use our reaching Mexico until daybreak; for the gates of the palace will be closed, and there will be no getting in, dressed as I am, until sunrise."
They therefore paddled quietly across the lake, often resting for a considerable time, and so arranging that they approached the city at the same time as a number of market boats, from the villages on the lake.
"Well," Malinche asked with a smile, as he met her in one of the courts, as he entered, "and where is your lady love?"
"I have not brought her here," he said, rather indignantly. "You did not suppose that I was going to bring her back to a barrack room? I am not an officer, to have a suite of apartments to myself. Besides, if I could have had the whole palace to myself, I should not have asked her to forsake her sister-in-law, in her distress. The two have fled together, and when the usurper arrives there today, he will find that no one knows where they have gone.
"However, I hope he will not trouble himself about them. After having taken Cacama's place, he could hardly wish to have Cacama's wife there; and I think he will be very glad when he hears that she has left.
"Can I see Cacama? I should like to tell him that his wife is in safety."
"I will take you with me," Malinche said. "I saw him yesterday, when he was brought before Montezuma. He is a gallant prince, and I grieve that misfortune has befallen him."
Malinche led the way to the prison room where Cacama was confined. The sentries at the door passed her and her companion without hesitation, for they knew that her influence was supreme with Cortez, and that orders did not apply to her.
"I will come again for you, in half an hour," she said, as the sentry unbolted the door.
Cacama was lying on a couch, covered with rough mats. He sat up as the door opened; and leaped to his feet, with an exclamation of satisfaction, when he saw who his visitor was.
"I have been longing to see you, Roger," he said. "I knew that you would come to me, as soon as you could. Have you heard that Montezuma has deposed me, and appointed Cuicuitzca Lord of Tezcuco?"
"I heard it yesterday afternoon, Cacama; and crossed at nightfall to Tezcuco, with the news."
"You saw my wife?" Cacama asked eagerly. "How is she? How does she bear the blow?"
"She was lost in grief when I first arrived there, but the necessity for action aroused her. She and Amenche agreed that they would not await the coming of the usurper today. They left the palace secretly, under the charge of Cuitcatl, who had litters in readiness for them; and started for his house, which he placed at their disposal. None save two attendants, whom they took with them, knew that they had left; and should the usurper seek for them--which, Cuitcatl agreed with me, is not likely to be the case, as he will have enough to occupy his time and thoughts--it will be long before he can find whither they have gone.
"I must tell you, Prince, that the queen last night opened the secret treasury, and took with her a considerable amount of the gold ornaments and the precious stones; so that she should have the means, if opportunity occur, of offering bribes either to the nobles of Tezcuco, or to your guards here."
"I would I were free but for an hour," Cacama said passionately. "I would make an example of the treacherous nobles who betrayed us. The queen has done well, in going to the secret chamber. It was to be kept for an emergency, and never was there a greater emergency for Tezcuco than now. Still, there were a large number of jewels in the public treasury, which she might have taken without breaking in upon the hoard."
"She thought that Cuicuitzca would, on his arrival, inquire from the chief of the treasury if everything was untouched. If he had found that a large number of valuables had been taken, he would connect it with the flight, and would at once send in all directions to overtake them; whereas, if he found that everything were untouched, he would think no more of her."
"Quite right," Cacama agreed. "Yes, it was certainly better to open the secret chamber. It was closed up again, I hope; for I would not that all the treasure which my father and grandfather stored away should be wasted by Cuicuitzca, or fall into the hands of his greedy friends, the Spaniards."
Roger informed him of the steps that had been taken; and that, with the exception of the fact that the plaster had been removed, all was exactly as before; and that the entrance could never be discovered, unless the cupboard was torn from its place.
"There is little fear of that being done. All the shelves and fittings of the treasury are of the plainest wood, and offer no inducement to anyone to take the trouble to break them down. The treasury might be sacked a dozen times, without its occurring to anyone to break down that small cupboard in the corner."
Roger now told Cacama of the arrangement that had been made, that Bathalda should act as messenger between himself and Amenche; and said he doubted not that, on the following day, the man would present himself.
"Have you any message to send to the queen?" he asked.
"Tell her that I am well, and that I am delighted to hear she has left the palace before Cuicuitzca arrives. Bid her on no account to try to stir up the false nobles in my favor. They would only betray her to Montezuma. And so long as the Spaniards are masters here, it is useless to think of revolt elsewhere.
"I do not believe that this will last long. The Mexicans are patient and submissive, but there is a limit, and Montezuma has almost reached it. The time cannot be far off when the people will no longer endure the present state of things, here; and when they rise, they will overwhelm these Spanish tyrants, and then I shall be freed. I can wait for a few weeks, and I shall doubtless have companions here, ere long."
The door now opened, and Malinche, looking in, told Roger that he must leave, as she was required by Cortez. Saying goodbye to Cacama, therefore, he returned to his quarters.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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17
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: The Insurrection.
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Cacama's prognostication was speedily verified; for in the course of the next two or three days, all the nobles who had joined him in preparations for a rising were, by Montezuma's orders, arrested and sent in, in chains, and were placed with him in prison.
Bathalda came on the day after Roger's return, with the news that the two ladies had reached Cuitcatl's house in safety and, as they believed, without exciting observation. The queen was anxious to know if he had seen Cacama, and whether her husband had any instructions for her. Amenche simply sent him some flowers, gathered by her own hand.
Roger gave Bathalda Cacama's message to the queen. While out in the market, he purchased a large packet of choice and delicate sweetmeats, of which he knew Amenche was particularly fond, and gave them to Bathalda; with the message that he would someday teach her to read and write, and then, when they were away from each other, they could talk at a distance.
For some little time things went on quietly, but the Spanish greed and bigotry gradually worked the Mexicans up to a point of fury. At the suggestion of Cortez, Montezuma sent collectors to all the principal cities and provinces, accompanied by Spaniards, and these brought back immense quantities of gold and silver plate and other valuables; and to these Montezuma added an enormous treasure that had been accumulated and hidden by his father, amounting to a sum which astounded even the Spaniards. The value of the gold alone was equal to nearly a million and a half pounds sterling, in the present day, besides a vast amount of gold ornaments and jewelry, and feather work of excellent manufacture. A fifth of this was set aside for the King of Spain, the rest divided among the officers and soldiers.
Even the extortion of this vast sum from the people might have been passed over in quiet, had the Spaniards been content to abstain from interference with their religion; but during the weeks that had elapsed since Montezuma had been a prisoner in their hands, they had vainly endeavored to convert the emperor, and the nobles and attendants on him, to Christianity.
They had listened attentively to the preaching and exhortations of Father Olmedo; but their faith in their own gods was unshaken, the bloody sacrifices were carried on as usual in the temples, and these horrible spectacles naturally excited the wrath and indignation of the Spaniards to the utmost; although they themselves had, in Cuba and the islands, put to death great numbers of the natives in pursuance of their own religious views.
Cortez with many of his leaders went to the emperor, and told him that they would no longer consent to have the services of their religion conducted in the palace, but wished to celebrate them publicly; and therefore requested that the great temple should be handed over to them, for their services. Montezuma was much agitated. He was a devout believer in his gods; and his conduct towards the Spaniards had been, in no slight degree, influenced by the belief that their coming had been foretold by Quetzalcoatl, and that they were the descendants of that god. However, after a conference with the priests, he consented that they should occupy one of the sanctuaries on the summit of the temple.
Great joy was caused among the Spaniards at this permission. They at once took possession of the sanctuary, and thoroughly cleansed it. They then decorated its walls with flowers, and raised an altar, surmounted by a crucifix and an image of the Virgin. When all was ready, the whole army moved up the winding ascent to the summit, and a solemn mass was celebrated.
The result of this occupation of the temple of their god was soon visible in the conduct of the Mexicans. Montezuma himself became grave and distant towards the Spaniards; and a few days later sent for Cortez, and informed them that they were in great danger, and that they had best leave the country, at once. Cortez replied that he should regret to leave the capital so suddenly, when he had no ship to take him from the country; but that if he should be driven to take such a step, he should feel compelled to carry the emperor along with him.
Montezuma then agreed to send, at once, a number of workmen to the coast, to build vessels under the instructions of the Spaniards; and promised to use his authority to restrain his people, assuring them that the Spaniards would leave, as soon as means were provided. A large number of artisans were accordingly sent off at once, with some of the Spaniards most skilled in ship building; and on their arrival at the coast they began to fell trees, and to make all preparations for building the vessels.
In the meantime, at Mexico, every precaution was taken by the Spaniards. Since Montezuma had been in their hands, they had felt in perfect security, had wandered about the city and neighboring country as they chose, fished upon the lake, and hunted in the royal preserves. Now the utmost vigilance was observed, strong guards were mounted, the soldiers slept in their armor with their arms beside them, and were no longer permitted to leave the palace.
At this moment news arrived that filled the mind even of Cortez with consternation. The expedition that he felt sure Velasquez, the Governor of Cuba, would dispatch against him, had arrived on the coast, and had landed. It consisted of eighteen vessels, carrying nine hundred men, of whom eighty were cavalry. So large a fleet had never before been collected in the Indies. It was commanded by a Castilian noble, named Panfilo de Narvaez.
Until they arrived at the coast, they had learned very little of what was happening in Mexico, as the vessels which Cortez had dispatched had avoided touching at the islands. They now learned, from the Spaniards left on the coast, all that had taken place; and Narvaez found, with indignation, that Cortez was the conqueror of a great empire, and that the honor and wealth had been reaped by a man whom he considered as an insolent adventurer, instead of by Velasquez. He therefore at once proclaimed his intention to march against Cortez, and to punish him for his rebellion; and the natives who had flocked to his camp soon comprehended that the new army had arrived as enemies, and not as friends, of the white men who had preceded them.
A small body of the troops of Cortez, commanded by Sandoval, were in garrison at Villa Rica; and he at once dispatched a messenger with the news to Cortez, and prepared for a vigorous defense. A priest, a noble, and four Spaniards who arrived from Narvaez, ordering him to surrender, were bound, placed on the backs of Indian porters, and sent off to Mexico under a strong guard.
When the news of the arrival of the force of Narvaez reached Mexico, the soldiers were delighted, believing that means were now at their disposal for their return home; but when they heard, from their officers, that the newcomers were sent by the Governor of Cuba, and had assuredly arrived as enemies, the troops declared that, come what might, they would remain true to their leader.
On the arrival of the prisoners, Cortez received them with the greatest courtesy, apologized for the rough conduct of Sandoval and, loading them with presents, converted them into allies. He learned from the priest that the soldiers of Narvaez had no hostility towards them, and that the arrogance of their leader caused much discontent among them.
When he was sure of the good offices of the priest, Cortez sent him back with a friendly letter to Narvaez, whom he adjured to lay aside his hostile designs which, if persisted in, might cause the loss of all the conquests he had made. He was ready, he said, to greet him as a brother, and to share with him the fruits of his successes. The priest fulfilled his mission, and added his own advice that the offers of Cortez should be accepted.
Narvaez rejected the counsel with scorn, but the accounts of the priest of the splendor of the country, the rich spoils won by the soldiers, and also of the generosity and popularity of Cortez, exercised a great influence over the soldiers.
The priest was followed by Father Olmedo, with some more letters. These were similarly rejected by Narvaez; but Olmedo, during his stay at the camp, contrived largely to add to the feeling in favor of Cortez, by his eloquence and the numerous presents he distributed among the officers and soldiers.
Cortez had, some time before, dispatched Don Velasquez de Leon, one of his trusted officers, with a hundred and fifty men, to plant a colony near the mouth of one of the great rivers. He was a kinsman of the Governor of Cuba, and Narvaez had, on landing, sent to him begging him to quit the service of Cortez, and march with his troops to join him. Velasquez, instead of doing so, set out at once for Mexico; but on his way was met by a messenger from Cortez, who ordered him to stop at Cholula for further orders.
Cortez summoned a force of two thousand natives from the distant province of Chinantla and, leaving Pedro d'Alvarado in command of a hundred and fifty Spaniards in Mexico, marched with the remainder of his force, consisting of some seventy men only, for Cholula. Here he was joined by Velasquez, with his hundred and fifty men. Thus reinforced, they marched to Tlascala, where six hundred native troops joined him.
But his allies soon fell off. They had had too severe an experience of the fighting powers of the white men to care about taking part in a battle with them, and so many deserted on the way that Cortez dismissed the rest, saying that he would rather part with them, then, than in the hour of trial. On reaching Perote they were joined by Sandoval with fifty Spaniards, which brought their number up to two hundred and sixty-six, only five of whom were mounted.
On their march towards Cempoalla, where Narvaez had now established his headquarters, they were met by an embassy from him, requiring the acknowledgment by Cortez of his authority, offering at the same time that all who wished to leave should be transported in his vessels. By liberal presents Cortez won over the members of the embassy, who returned to Cempoalla to inform the soldiers there of the liberality of Cortez, and of the wonderful array of gold ornaments and chains worn by his soldiers.
Narvaez advanced to meet Cortez but, the weather proving bad, again fell back on Cempoalla. Cortez, on the other hand, took advantage of the weather, and in the night fell upon the garrison, and took them completely by surprise.
Sandoval, with a small band, had been told off to attack the temple occupied by Narvaez, and to take him prisoner. The general, with the troops in the temple, defended himself bravely, until seriously wounded by one of the long spears with which Cortez had armed his men. The thatched roof of the temple was set on fire, the defenders were driven out by the smoke, and Narvaez was seized and made prisoner.
Another division, under Olid, fell upon the guns, captured them, and turned them upon the temples in which the troops were quartered; when the soldiers, whose loyalty to their commander had already been sapped, accepted the offer of Cortez of an amnesty for the past, and a full participation in the advantages of the conquest of the country. Having sworn allegiance to Cortez as captain general, they were incorporated in his little army.
In the morning, when they saw how small had been the body of men who had defeated them, many regretted the course they had taken, but in the course of the day the two thousand native allies from Chinantla arrived, and their military appearance, and the proof afforded by their presence of the influence of Cortez with the inhabitants of the country, put a stop to the murmuring; especially as Cortez ordered all the spoils taken from them to be returned, and distributed among them considerable sums of money--exciting, indeed, murmurs of discontent among his own veterans, who considered that they had been deprived of the spoil they had rightfully won.
The eloquence of their general, however, as usual, was successful in pacifying them; but to prevent further difficulties, he broke up his force, and sent off two hundred men under Diego de Ordaz, and a similar number under Velasquez de Leon, to form settlements on the coasts and rivers; and two hundred men to Vera Cruz, to dismantle the fleet of Narvaez.
Scarcely had these parties left when a messenger arrived with letters from Alvarado, saying that the Mexicans had risen and assaulted the Spaniards in their quarters, and had partly undermined the walls; and that, in the fighting, several of the garrison had been killed, and a great number wounded.
Cortez at once dispatched messengers after Velasquez and Ordaz, and ordered them to march to join him at Tlascala; recalled a hundred men from Vera Cruz, and then set forward. The troops suffered much in their march across the low country to the foot of the hills, beneath a sun of terrible power. However, they reached Tlascala, and were there joined by Ordaz and Velasquez. They were most hospitably entertained by their allies, and a number of levies joined them; and with these and eleven hundred Spaniards, of whom a hundred were cavalry, they marched towards Mexico.
They took a more northern route than before and, crossing the mountains, held their way on to Tezcuco. Upon their route through the plains the peasantry held aloof, and the greater portion of the population of Tezcuco withdrew before their arrival; and even its new lord, although appointed at the instigation of Cortez, was absent from the city. Dispatches arrived from Alvarado saying that the Mexicans had, for the last fortnight, ceased their attacks; but were blockading him in the palace.
Cortez marched down the lake shore on the following day, and crossed the causeway to the city. Not a native was to be seen near the line of march, not a boat was visible on the lake, and an air of gloom and solitude hung over everything; showing but too plainly the altered feelings with which the natives regarded the whites. The streets were similarly deserted. When the head of the column reached the palace, the gates were thrown open and the garrison rushed out to greet the newcomers, with joyful shouts.
Cortez now learned the reason of the rising of the Mexicans. It was the result of a hideous act of treachery, on the part of Alvarado. In the month of May was the great festival of the war god, which was held in his great temple; and the caziques asked permission of Alvarado to use, for the day, that portion which had been handed over to the Spaniards. He agreed to the request, on the condition that the Aztecs should celebrate no human sacrifices, and should come unarmed.
At least six hundred nobles attended, in their most gorgeous robes, and Alvarado and his soldiers were present as spectators. While the Aztecs were employed in a religious dance, Alvarado gave the signal, his men rushed upon them with their arms, and every one of them was massacred unresistingly, not a single soul escaping.
Various motives were assigned for this most foul massacre. Some writers have ascribed it solely to the desire for plunder; others to the desire of Alvarado to strike a blow that would intimidate the Mexicans from making any insurrectionary movement. Alvarado himself declared that he had information that the Mexicans intended to rise, but he gave no proofs, whatever, to justify his suspicions. The affair, indeed, seems to have been utterly indefensible, and must ever remain a foul blot upon Spanish honor.
Cortez was extremely angry at hearing what had taken place and, after listening to Alvarado's explanation, said: "You have done badly. You have been false to your trust! Your conduct has been that of a madman!"
It was, however, no time for quarrels; and as it was the impolicy of the deed, rather than its treachery, that angered Cortez, he speedily forgave the offender, who was one of the most popular officers in his army.
The blow Alvarado had struck had a contrary effect to that which he had expected of it. No sooner had the news of the massacre spread through the city than the whole population rose, and at dawn next morning they attacked the palace, with desperate fury. Volumes of missiles were poured upon the defenders. The walls were assaulted, and the works set on fire, and the palace might have been taken had not Montezuma, yielding to the entreaties--and perhaps threats--of the garrison, mounted the walls, and urged the people to desist from the attack, as his own safety would be imperiled did they continue it.
They obeyed him as usual, and withdrew from the assault; but threw up works round the place, and proceeded to starve the Spaniards out. The latter had considerable stores of food, but suffered severely from thirst until they were fortunate enough to discover a spring, and were thus enabled to hold out until the arrival of Cortez.
The latter refused to comply with the request of Montezuma to see him. He had some reason to doubt the good faith of the emperor, for he had discovered that the latter had sent envoys to Narvaez; and he had, upon his arrival at Tlascala, been informed that the rising at Mexico had been, to a great extent, prepared beforehand by the orders of Montezuma; and even the assurances of the officers of the garrison, that they owed their safety to the emperor's intervention, did not pacify him.
The real reason, no doubt, of his anger was that he found he had overrated the advantages he would gain from Montezuma being in his hands; but for this he himself, and not the emperor, was to blame. At first the capture had all the success that he had expected from it. The people had obeyed their emperor as implicitly, when a captive, as when his power had been supreme. They had sent in their nobles, prisoners and bound, at his orders. They had built ships for these strangers. They had suffered them to go unmolested through the country.
But there was an end even to Aztec patience. The avarice of the white men had drained the country of its wealth. Their arrogance had humiliated their pride. Their occupation of their holiest temple and the insults to their gods had aroused them to fury; and the massacre, in cold blood, of six hundred of their nobles, while engaged in religious devotions, had been the signal for an explosion. Their emperor, formerly so venerated, they now regarded with contempt as the creature of the Spaniards; as the betrayer of his country; and the thought of his safety no longer restrained their thirst for vengeance.
Cortez, however, was in no mood to reflect.
"What have I to do with this dog of a king," he exclaimed, "who suffers us to starve before his eyes?
"Go, tell your master and his people," he said fiercely to the Mexicans, "to open the markets, or we will do it for them, at their cost!"
The chiefs, who were the bearers of Montezuma's message, left his presence in deep resentment; and reported to the emperor, and to the people outside, the manner in which Montezuma's request for an interview had been refused. Cortez, however, thought it politic to release Cuitlahua, Montezuma's brother, who had been among those imprisoned for taking share in Cacama's league; and allowed him to go into the city, thinking that he would allay the tumult.
But Cuitlahua was a man of different spirit from his brother. He was heir presumptive to the throne, and a bold and daring prince. The people welcomed him, at once, as Montezuma's representative; and chose him to represent the emperor during his confinement. Cuitlahua accepted the post, and immediately set to work to organize the fighting men, and to arrange a plan of attack.
Roger had not been with the party that accompanied Cortez on his expedition against Narvaez; but, with his two companions, remained to form part of the garrison of the palace.
"You are out of spirits, young fellow," Juan said, on the day after Cortez had marched away. "You are changed, very much, since you first joined us."
"I have much to make me so, Juan," Roger replied, in his broken Spanish. "You see, I am white by blood, but I have dear friends among the natives. What do I see? As a white, I perceive that our position here is one of the gravest danger, and that destruction may fall upon us all. As a friend of the natives, I see the country plundered, the people trodden down and, sooner or later, the ruin and misery of the whole people."
"You mean we are in danger from Narvaez' people," Juan said. "I have faith in Cortez. He will either fight them or bring them over. He is a wonderful man, and will find some way out of the difficulty."
"I do not mean that, entirely," Roger replied. "I mean that there is danger from the natives."
"Pooh!" the old soldier said, disdainfully. "The natives are no better than so many women."
"But even women may be serious opponents, when they are fifty to one, Juan; and you mistake these Mexicans. They have been friendly and submissive, because it has been the order of the emperor; but although physically not strong, they are brave. The Aztec army has spread the dominion of Mexico over a wide extent of country. They have conquered many peoples, and are by no means to be despised. It is true you beat the Tlascalans, but that was not because you were braver than they were, but because of your superior arms and armor, and above all by the terror inspired by your horses--but this will not last. The Mexicans now know that you are but men, like themselves; and when they fight, inspired both by national spirit and the memory of their wrongs, I tell you that you will have hard work to hold your own."
"Ah well," Juan grumbled. "If it must come, it must. It will not disturb my appetite."
When Roger learned that orders had been given for the massacre at the temple, he determined firmly that he would take no part in the deed, whatever it might cost him to refuse. Fortunately, he found no difficulty in persuading one of the soldiers, told off to act as a guard at the palace during the absence of the rest, to change places with him, as the man wanted to have his share in the expected plunder. Had Cacama been at liberty, Roger would not have hesitated a moment, but would have left the Spaniards and thrown in his lot with the Mexicans; but now it was impossible to do so. The frenzied population would have seized any white man they came upon, outside the walls of the palace, and would have carried him to the altars of their gods. It would be hopeless to endeavor to explain that he was of another race. All white men would be alike, in their eyes.
He bitterly regretted, now, that he had returned from Tezcuco. Had he, at that time, gone with the queen and princess to the house of his friend Cuitcatl, he could have remained there in quiet; and the natives would have seen that he, at least, had no part or share in this horrible massacre. Now it seemed to him that there was nothing to be done, save to share the lot of the Spaniards, whatever that might be.
He believed that the Mexicans would storm the palace, and slaughter all within it, long before the return of Cortez; and he by no means shared the confident anticipation of the soldiers, that the general, on his arrival, would very speedily put down any insurrection that might occur; and would, with the assistance of the soldiers of Narvaez, soon bring all Mexico into subjection.
It had happened that both Juan and Pedro had also been on guard, during the massacre. This was a great satisfaction to him, for he felt he could no longer have remained in intimate communion with them, had their hands been drenched with innocent blood. When, upon their being relieved at their posts, they joined each other in the chamber they shared in common, the old soldier held up his hand and said gruffly: "Do you hold your tongue, Sancho. I know what you are thinking, lad, as well as if you said it; and maybe I do not disagree with you; but least said, soonest mended. These rooms without doors are not places for a man to relieve his mind by strong language, if he happens to differ from his superiors. It is a bad business, and a shameful one. At Cholula there was some excuse for it. Here there is none. I am an old soldier, and have taken many a life in my time, but never in cold blood like this. Say nothing, lad, at any rate until you get a chance of being outside this city; or on the lake, where none can get near you--then pour it out, as much as you like."
"It is like enough," Roger said, "that none of us will ever go out of the city alive; and it will serve us thoroughly right. If this is to be a Spaniard and a Catholic, let me be a Mexican and a heathen."
"There, there, that is enough," Juan interrupted. "Now let us have our supper."
"I can eat nothing," Roger said, throwing himself down on the couch, where he remained in silence until a sudden outburst of wild shouts and cries, followed instantly by the trumpet, calling every man to his allotted place on the walls, aroused him.
"The work of vengeance has begun," he said gravely, as he put on his thick padded jerkin and helmet, and took up his pike. "I only hope I may see Alvarado, the author of this massacre, killed before I am."
Juan shook his head as Roger left the room, and he followed with Pedro.
"In faith, I do not blame him. He has been brought up among these people."
"He is quite right," the young soldier said. "It is a shameful business. Had I known that we were coming here to be butchers, I would never have taken service under Cortez. What should we have said if, on our first arrival here, when Montezuma entertained Cortez and all the cavaliers, his people had slain them at the feast?"
"Hold your tongue, you young fool!" Juan muttered angrily. "The thing is done, and you cannot undo it. What we have to do now is to fight for our lives. Even if these poor devils have right on their side, it is not a matter to stop and discuss, now. So keep your breath for fighting. I doubt not that we shall soon scatter them like chaff."
But this was by no means the case, and it was only the intervention of Montezuma that saved the garrison from destruction.
The time until the arrival of Cortez had passed slowly. The soldiers, weakened by hunger and thirst, muttered angrily against the officer who had so rashly brought them into this strait. Few of them regretted the deed for its own sake, but simply because it had brought on them peril and misfortune.
Roger had borne his share of the fighting on the walls. He was defending his life, and although at first he had fought with little ardor, the pain given by two arrows which pierced his cotton armor heated his blood; and he afterwards fought as stoutly as the rest.
During the period of inaction he had, more than once, tried to obtain an interview with Cacama; but the prisoners were jealously watched, and no one was allowed access to them on any pretext, and two officers always accompanied the men who took in their daily rations. They were regarded as hostages, only less important than Montezuma himself; and as most of them were very rich and powerful caziques, they might offer bribes which might well shake the fidelity of any private soldier.
When the news arrived that Cortez, with the whole of the army of Narvaez, was at hand, the depression that had reigned gave way to exultation; and the soldiers believed that they would now take the offensive, and without loss of time put an end to the insurrection.
Marina had accompanied Cortez on his expedition, for she was still necessary to him as an interpreter, and her influence with the natives was great. Roger obtained an interview with her, a few hours after her return. She had evidently been crying passionately.
"My heart is broken, Roger," she said. "I had hoped that the white men would have done great things for my country. They know so much, and although I thought there might be trouble at first, for great changes can never be introduced without trouble, I never dreamed of anything like this. Cholula was bad enough, but there the people brought it on themselves; and the Spaniards would have been slain, had they not first begun to kill. But here it is altogether different. It was an unprovoked massacre, and after this, who can hope that the whites and Mexicans can ever be friendly together?
"I love Cortez. He is great and generous, and had he been here this would have never happened; but many of his people are cruel, and they are all greedy of wealth; and he, general though he is, has to give way to them.
"I remember that, in the old days at Tabasco, you told me how cruelly the Spaniards had treated the people of the islands; but when I saw them first, I thought that you, being of a different nation, had spoken too hardly of them. I see, now, that you were right. I have, all along, done what I could for my people; and though I am with the invaders, I am sure they recognize this, and that they feel no ill will against me. But now I fear that they will curse me, as they will curse them; and that, through all time, my name will be abhorred in Mexico," and she again burst into tears.
"I do not think so, Malinche. At Tezcuco it was always said that you stood between the natives and the whites, and it was owing to you that they were not more harsh than they were.
"As to this massacre, God forbid that I should say a single word in defense of it! As a white man and a Christian, I feel it is an act of horrible atrocity; but it should not make such an impression upon your people, who make wars solely to obtain victims, whom they may sacrifice at the altars of their gods; and who, every year, slay in cold blood fully twenty-five thousand people who have done them no wrong. By the side of such horrible slaughter as this, the murder of six hundred, the other day, was but a drop in the ocean of blood annually shed here."
"Had it been in battle, it would have been nothing," Malinche said. "Had they offered them up at the altars of the gods, the people would have understood it, for they do it themselves; but this was a foul act of treachery. Who, after this, can believe in the promises of the whites?
"I know the people. You whites despise them, because they have hitherto allowed themselves to be subdued without resistance; but now that their first awe of the Spaniards has died away, and they have nerved themselves to take up arms, you will find that they are brave. I see nothing but trouble before us. Cortez feels confident that he can easily repulse any attack, and subdue the city and the country round; but I do not think so."
"Nor do I, Malinche. No men could have fought more bravely than the Mexicans, the other day. It is true that we were but in small numbers, and that we are now many times stronger, and have Cortez to command us; but on the other hand, the attack was but a hasty one, and the next time we shall have the whole Mexican force upon us."
"What will you do, Roger?"
"I must fight for the Spaniards," Roger said gloomily. "They are not my countrymen, but they are white men as I am, and surrounded by foes. Besides, I have no option. The Mexicans cannot distinguish between Spaniards and Englishmen, and I should be seized and sacrificed, were I to set foot beyond the walls. Were it not for that I would leave the city, join Amenche, and leave the Spaniards and Mexicans to fight out their quarrel as they might; but now, whichever won, the result would be fatal to me. If the Mexicans were victorious, I, like all other whites, would be sacrificed to their gods. If the Spaniards won, I should be executed as a traitor. Therefore, there is nothing for me to do but to remain with the Spaniards, and share their fate, whatever it may be."
The next morning silence reigned over the city. Not a Mexican was to be seen anywhere near the palace, within which the Spaniards were virtually prisoners. Cortez hoped, however, that Cuitlahua would soon persuade the people to return to their usual habits, and to open the markets for provisions; but in any case, he felt so confident of his power to overawe the city, that he sent off a messenger with dispatches to the coast, saying that he had arrived safely, and should soon overcome all opposition.
In half an hour, however, the messenger returned at a gallop, wounded in a score of places. He reported that the city was up in arms, the drawbridges were raised, and the Mexicans were marching towards the palace. Scarcely had he arrived, when the sentinels on the towers shouted that masses of men were approaching, by all the streets leading to the palace; and immediately afterwards the terraces and flat roofs of the houses near were darkened by throngs of natives, shouting and brandishing their weapons.
The trumpet instantly sounded to arms, and so strict was the discipline that prevailed that, in an incredibly short time, every soldier was at his post. The position was capable of being defended against a very numerous enemy, unprovided with artillery; for the wall round the great one-storied building, though low, was strong; and the turrets, placed at intervals upon it, enabled the defenders to command its face, and to pour missiles upon any who might be bold enough to endeavor to effect a breach, by undermining it with crowbars and levers. The garrison, too, were sufficient for its defense; for there were not only some twelve hundred Spaniards, but the eight thousand Tlascalan allies.
The Aztecs rushed forward, with the shrill whistle used as a battle cry by the people of Anahuac; and, as they advanced, poured a rain of missiles of all kinds upon the palace, to which were added those shot from the terraces and flat roofs.
The Spaniards had pierced the walls with embrasures for their cannon, and these commanded all the avenues. The gunners waited until the columns were close at hand, and then their terrible discharge swept lanes through the crowded masses in the streets. For a moment the Mexicans paused, paralyzed by the terrible slaughter; and then, rallying, rushed forward again. Three times the cannon were discharged into their midst; but though broken and disordered, they still pressed on until they swept up to the very foot of the walls, pouring in a hail of arrows.
They were well seconded by those on the housetops who, from their elevated position, were on a level with the Spaniards; and whose missiles, arrows, javelins, and stones thrown with great force from slings, galled the defenders greatly, and wounded great numbers of them.
In vain did the Aztecs strive to climb the walls. These were of no great height but, as they showed their heads above the parapet, they were shot down by the Spanish arquebus men, or struck backwards by the weapons of the Tlascalans. Failing to scale the walls, they tried to batter down the parapet with heavy pieces of timber. But the stonework was too strong, and they then shot burning arrows into the palace, and hurled blazing torches over the wall.
The palace itself was of stone, but some of the exterior works which had been constructed were of wood, and these were soon on fire. The defenders had no water with which to extinguish the flames and, at the point where the new works joined the wall, the fire was so fierce that they were afraid it would spread to the palace; and, to extinguish it, were forced to adopt the desperate expedient of overthrowing the wall upon the burning mass. The breach thus made was guarded by a battery of heavy guns and a party of arquebusiers, and these repelled every attempt of the Mexicans to take advantage of the breach which had been thus formed.
The fight continued until night fell, and the Mexicans then drew off. Cortez and his followers were astonished at the obstinacy with which they had fought, and the contempt of death they had displayed. They had obtained such easy victories, with forces but a fourth of those which Cortez now commanded, that he had formed the lowest opinion of the fighting powers of the Aztecs. But he now found that a nation was not to be trampled upon with impunity.
However, he consoled himself with the thought that this was but a temporary outbreak of fury; and he determined to sally out with all his force, on the following morning, and to inflict a terrible chastisement upon his assailants.
As soon as the morning broke, the Spaniards were under arms. Cortez was speedily undeceived in his hopes that the slaughter of the previous day would have cowed the Mexicans. The great square and the streets leading to it were seen to be crowded with foes, who appeared better organized than on the previous day, being divided into regiments, each with its banners. These, the Mexican attendants on Montezuma told them, were the cognizances of the many cities of the plain, showing that the whole people were joining in the movement commenced by those of the capital. Towering above the rest was the royal standard of Mexico.
Among the crowd were numerous priests who, with excited gestures, called upon them to avenge the insulted gods, and to destroy the handful of invaders who had brought disgrace upon the nation, had trampled it under foot, had made their sovereign a captive, and murdered their nobles in cold blood. It was evident that, fierce as had been the fighting on the previous day, the renewed assault would be even more formidable.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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18
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: The Rising In Mexico.
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The appearance of the vast crowd that surrounded the palace differed much from that which they had presented on the previous day, when the Mexicans had fought in their usual garments, or in their padded cuirasses. Today they had laid aside all their garments save their loincloths, having found by experience that their cotton armor was absolutely useless against the missiles of the Spaniards. The chiefs were now conspicuous, as they moved to and fro among the dark masses, by their gay dresses and the metal breastplates worn over the bright feather work. They wore helmets made to resemble the heads of ferocious wild beasts, crested with bristly hair or surmounted by bright feather plumes. Some wore only a red fillet round their head, having tufts of cotton hanging from it; each tuft denoting some victory in which they had taken part, and their own rank in the army. Noble and citizen, priest and soldier, had all united in the common cause.
The assault was about to commence, when the Spaniards' artillery and musketry poured death into the crowded ranks. The gates were at once thrown open, and Cortez at the head of his cavalry dashed out, followed by the infantry and the Tlascalan allies. Confused by the slaughter made by the firearms, the Aztecs could offer no resistance to the onslaught. The cavalry trampled them underfoot, and mowed them down with sword and lance. The Spanish foot and Tlascalans following close behind carried on the work of destruction, and it seemed to the Spaniards that the fight was already over, when the Aztecs fled before them.
The movement of retreat, however, ceased the moment the Mexicans reached the barricades which they had thrown up across the streets; and forming behind these they made a gallant stand, while those upon the housetops poured showers of arrows, darts, and great stones down upon the advancing Spaniards. In vain the Spanish artillery were brought up, and their fire swept away the barricades; there were still others behind, and at each the desperate fight was renewed.
Coming down from the side streets, the Aztecs fell upon the Spanish flanks; and clouds of missiles were shot from the boats, which crowded the canals everywhere intersecting the streets.
Cortez and his cavaliers continued to make desperate charges through the Aztecs, who, although unable to withstand the weight and impetus of the horses, closed round them, striving to throw the riders from their backs and to stab the horses themselves--throwing away their lives without hesitation, on the chance of getting one blow at the Spaniards. The moment the horsemen drew back, the Aztecs followed them; and although their loss was immense, their ranks were instantly filled up again, while the Spaniards could ill spare the comparatively small number who fell on their side.
At last, after hours of carnage, the Spaniards, exhausted by their exertions and having eaten nothing since the night before, fell back to the palace. Diaz, one of the historians of the events, who was present at the combat, expressed the astonishment felt by the Spaniards at the desperation with which the despised Mexicans had fought.
"The Mexicans," he said; "fought with such ferocity that if we had had the assistance of ten thousand Hectors, and as many Orlandos, we should have made no impression on them. There were several of our troops who had served in the Italian wars; but neither there, nor in the battles with the Turk, have they ever seen anything like the desperation shown by these Indians."
As the Spaniards fell back the Aztecs followed them, pouring in volleys of stones and arrows; and as soon as they had entered the palace encamped around it, showing that their spirit was wholly unbroken. Although--as it was contrary to their custom to fight at night--they did not renew the attack, they shouted insulting threats as to the Spaniards' fate, when they should fall into their hands; and were evidently well satisfied with the events of the day, and looked for victory on the morrow.
Cortez had received a severe wound in the hand during the fight, and he and his companions felt how grievously they had mistaken the character of the Aztecs. They had sallied out that morning, confident in their power to crush out the insurrection. They returned, feeling that their situation was well-nigh desperate, and that henceforth they must fight, not for dominion, but for life.
As soon as day broke the fight was renewed, but this time it was the Aztecs and not the Spaniards who began it. There was no idea of a fresh sortie. All that the garrison could hope was to defend their position. So furiously did the natives attack that, for a time, they forced their way into the entrenchments; but the Spaniards, whose turn it was to fight with the bravery of despair, fell upon them with such fury that none of those who had gained an entry returned.
Cortez now sent to Montezuma, to request him to interpose, as he had done before, between them and his people. The emperor refused to interfere. He had viewed the desperate fighting of the last two days with bitter humiliation. He had seen his brother Cuitlahua leading on his troops, with the greatest gallantry; while he himself, thanks to his own conduct, was a helpless prisoner. He mourned over the terrible losses his people were suffering; and the fact that his kindness to the Spaniards had brought upon him nothing but ill treatment and insult at their hands, had earned him the contempt of his people, and had involved his country in misfortune and ruin, cut him to the heart.
"What have I to do with Malinzin?" he said coldly. "I desire only to die."
When still further urged, he added: "It is useless. They will neither believe me, nor the false words and promises of Malinzin. You will never leave these walls alive."
On being assured that the Spaniards would willingly depart, and leave the country, if their assailants would open a way to them, he at last consented to address the people. Clothing himself in his richest robes of state, he ascended the central turret of the palace; surrounded by a guard of Spaniards, and accompanied by several Aztec nobles. When he was seen, the din of war ceased as if by magic. A dead silence fell upon the multitude, and they knelt and prostrated themselves before the sovereign they had so long held in the deepest reverence.
But when he addressed them, assuring them that he was a guest, and not a prisoner, of the Spaniards; and ordered them to lay down their arms, and to allow the Spaniards to march to the coast, indignation at his cowardice overpowered their feelings of reverence and respect. They burst into taunts and execrations, and a moment later a storm of missiles were hurled at the man who had betrayed them.
The Spanish guards, seeing the effect his presence had produced, had stood aside, to enable him the better to be seen; and before they could close around him, and cover him with their shields, three missiles struck him; one, a stone hurled from a sling, smiting him on the head with such violence that he fell insensible. When the Aztecs saw him fall, their brief outburst of indignation was succeeded by one of sorrow; and with a cry of grief the whole multitude dispersed, and in a minute or two the crowded square was wholly deserted.
Montezuma was carried to his chamber. When he recovered sensibility, he refused absolutely to allow his wounds to be dressed, and tore off the bandages. Not a word passed his lips. He sat in an attitude of the deepest dejection. His own people despised him, and had raised their hands against him. He had drunk deeply of the cup of humiliation, at the hands of the Spaniards; but this last drop filled it to overflowing. There was nothing for him but to die.
The Spanish leaders tried, but in vain, to persuade him to submit to surgical treatment. He paid no attention to their words, and they were soon called away by fresh danger from without.
The Aztecs had speedily recovered from their emotion at seeing the fall of the emperor, and a body of five or six hundred of them, including many nobles and military leaders of high rank, had taken possession of the great temple; and now from its summit, a hundred and fifty feet high, opened a rain of missiles upon the palace. The Spaniards could not effectually return their fire, for the Aztecs were sheltered by the sanctuaries on the summit of the pyramids.
It was absolutely necessary, for the safety of the defenders, to dislodge them from this position; and Cortez ordered his chamberlain, Don Escobar, with a hundred men, to storm the teocalli and set fire to the sanctuaries. But the little force were three times repulsed, and forced to fall back with considerable loss. Cortez then, though suffering much from the wound in his left hand, determined himself to lead the assault. As he was incapable of holding his shield, he had it strapped to his left arm; and with three hundred picked men, and some thousands of the Tlascalans, sallied out from the palace, and attacked the Aztecs in the temple at the foot of the pyramid.
The Spaniards made their way through these without much difficulty, and then commenced the ascent of the pyramid. This offered great facilities for defense. There were five terraces connected by steps, so placed that those mounting the pyramid had to make the whole circuit, on each terrace, before reaching the steps leading to the next. It was thus necessary to pass round the pyramid four times, or nearly two miles, exposed to the missiles of those upon the summit.
Leaving a strong body of Spaniards and Tlascalans at the bottom, to prevent the natives ascending and attacking him in the rear, Cortez led the way up the staircase, followed closely by his principal officers. In spite of the heavy stones and beams of wood which, with a storm of arrows, were hurled down upon them, the Spaniards won their way from terrace to terrace, supported by the fire of their musketeers below, until at last they reached the great platform on the summit of the pyramid.
Here a terrible conflict commenced. The Aztecs, brought to bay, and fighting not only for life, but in the presence of their country's gods, displayed a valor at least equal to that of the Spaniards. Numbers were slightly in their favor, but this was far more than counter-balanced by the superior arms of the Spaniards; and by the armor, which rendered them almost invulnerable to the comparatively puny weapons of the Mexicans. And yet, for three hours the fight continued. At the end of that time, all the Mexicans, save two or three priests, were killed; while forty-five of the Spaniards had fallen, and almost all the others were wounded.
While this fight had been raging the combat had ceased, elsewhere; the combatants on both sides being absorbed in the struggle taking place at the summit of the temple. They could not, of course, judge how it was going; though they caught sight of the combatants as they neared the edges of the platform, which was unprotected by wall or fence; and many in the course of the struggle fell, or were hurled, over it.
The moment the struggle was over, the Spaniards rushed with exulting shouts into the sanctuary of the Mexican god, reeking with the blood of fresh-killed victims; cast the image from its pedestal; rolled it across the platform to the head of the steps; and then, amid shouts that were echoed by their comrades below, sent it bounding down, while a cry of anguish and dismay rose from the Mexicans.
The image dethroned, fire was applied to the sanctuary; and the smoke and flames, rising up, must have told countless thousands, watching the capital from the housetops of the neighboring cities, that the white men had triumphed over the gods of Mexico; and that, as at Cholula so at the capital, these had proved impotent to protect their votaries from the dread invaders. So dismayed were the Mexicans, at the misfortune, that they offered no resistance to the return of the Spaniards from the temple, and retired to their houses without further fighting.
At night the Spaniards sallied out again, relying upon the habit of the Mexicans to abstain from fighting at night, and burnt several hundred houses.
Believing that the spirit of the Mexicans would be broken now, Cortez, on the following morning, mounted the turret from which Montezuma had addressed them. Malinche was by his side; and when he held up his hands, to show that he wished to address them, a silence fell upon the multitude; and Malinche's voice was heard plainly by them, as she translated the words of Cortez. He told them they must now feel that they could not struggle against the Spaniards. Their gods had been cast down, their dwellings burnt, their warriors slaughtered. And all this they had brought on themselves, by their rebellion. Yet if they would lay down their arms, and return to the obedience of their sovereign, he would stay his hand. If not, he would make their city a heap of ruins, and leave not a soul alive to mourn over it.
But Cortez learned, at once, that the spirit he had roused in the Mexicans was in no way lowered by their reverses. One of the great chiefs answered him that it was true he had hurled down their gods, and massacred their countrymen; but they were content to lose a thousand lives for every one that they took.
"Our streets," he said, "are still thronged with warriors. Our numbers are scarcely diminished. Yours are lessening every day. You are dying with hunger and sickness. Your provisions and water are failing. You must soon fall into our hands. The bridges are broken down, and you cannot escape. There will be too few of you left to satisfy the vengeance of the gods."
When he had finished, a shower of arrows showed that hostilities had recommenced.
The garrison were now completely disheartened. Of what use the tremendous exertions they had made, and the lives that had been lost? They were still, as they had been on the first day of their arrival, hemmed in in their fortress, surrounded by foes thirsting for their blood. Great numbers were wounded, more or less severely. Their provisions were well-nigh gone. The enemy were bolder than ever. They had been promised wealth and honor--they were starving, and death stared them in the face. They loudly exclaimed that they had been deceived, and betrayed.
But the men who had served all along with Cortez stood firm. They had still every confidence in their leader. It was not his fault that they had been brought to this pass, but by the misconduct of others, during his absence. At any rate, as they pointed out to their comrades, the only chance of escape was unity and obedience.
Cortez himself was, as always in a moment of great danger, calm and collected. The thought of having to leave the city, to abandon all the treasures they had taken, was even more painful to him than to the soldiers. It was not the loss of his own share of the booty, but of that of the emperor, that he regretted; for he felt that this, together with the downfall of all his plans, and the loss of the kingdom he had already counted won, would bring upon him the displeasure of his emperor, would give strength to his enemies at court, and would probably ensure his being recalled in disgrace.
Nevertheless, he saw that retreat was necessary, for the position could not be maintained. Every day the defenses became weaker, the men more exhausted by fighting, and there would soon be no longer a morsel of bread to serve out to them. A retreat must therefore be made.
The question was, which route should be chosen? In any case, one of the narrow dikes connecting the island city with the shore must be traversed; and on these causeways the Spaniards would fight under great disadvantage. Finally, he settled upon that leading to Tlacopan, which was much the shortest, being only two miles in length.
For some days a large party of men had been at work constructing movable towers, similar to those used, centuries before, in sieges. They moved on rollers, and were to be dragged by the Tlascalan allies. From their summits the soldiers could shoot down upon the housetops, from which they had been hitherto so annoyed. The towers were also provided with bridges, which could be let down on to the roofs, and so enable the soldiers to meet their opponents hand to hand.
When the structures were completed, the Spaniards again took the offensive. The gates were opened, and the three towers, dragged by the Tlascalans, moved out. The Mexicans, astonished at the sight of these machines, from whose summits a heavy fire of musketry were kept up, fell back for a time. The towers were moved up close to the terraces, and the soldiers, after partly clearing them by their fire, lowered the light bridges and, crossing, engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the Mexicans, and drove them from their positions.
But from the lofty houses of the nobles, the Mexicans still maintained their resistance. The towers were not high enough to overlook these and, as they came up, beams of wood and huge stones were cast down upon them; striking with such force that it soon became evident, to those within them, that the towers would not hold together.
They were dragged on, however, until a canal crossed the road. The bridge had been removed, and both the cavalry and the towers were brought to a standstill. The latter were abandoned, and Cortez ordered his troops to make a road forward, by filling up the canal with stones and wood from the houses near.
While engaged in this operation, they were exposed to an incessant fire from every point of advantage in the neighborhood, and from the opposite bank of the canal. The work was, however, completed; and the cavalry, crossing, drove the Mexicans headlong down the great street; until they came to another canal, where the same work had again to be performed. No less than seven canals crossed the street, and it took two days of constant fighting before the last of these was crossed, and the whole street in their hands.
Just as the last canal had been captured, Cortez, who was ever at the head of his men, received news that the Mexicans desired to open a parley with him, and that some of their nobles had arrived at the palace for that purpose. Delighted at the news, he rode back with his officers. The Mexicans requested that the two priests who had been captured in the great temple should be released, and should be the bearers of his terms, and discuss the negotiations.
Cortez at once consented, and the priests left with the envoys; with instructions that, if the Mexicans would lay down their arms, the past should be forgiven. The mission was, however, a mere trick. The Mexicans were most anxious to rescue the priests, one of whom was the high priest, and therefore most sacred in their eyes. Cortez had scarcely sat down to a meal, which he sorely needed after his fatigues, when the news was brought that the Mexicans had again attacked, with greater fury than ever; and, at three points, had driven off the detachments placed to guard the newly-made causeways across the canal.
Cortez and his companions leaped on their horses and, riding down the great street, again cleared it. But no sooner had he reached the other end than the Mexicans, gathering in the lanes and side streets, poured in again, and overpowered the guard at one of the principal canals.
Swarms of warriors poured in on all sides, and a storm of arrows and other missiles was poured down upon Cortez and his cavaliers. The confusion at the broken bridge was tremendous. The cavalry and infantry struggled fiercely with the crowds of foes, while others strove again to repair the bridge which the Mexicans had again torn down.
Cortez himself performed prodigies of valor in covering the retreat of his men, dashing alone into the midst of the ranks of the enemy, shouting his battle cry, and dealing death with every blow of his sword. So far did he penetrate among his foes, that reports spread that he was killed; and when at last he fought his way back, and leaped his horse over a chasm still remaining in the bridge, his escape was regarded by his troops as absolutely miraculous; and it was said that he had been saved by the national Apostle, Saint James, and the Virgin Mary, who had fought by his side. At night the Mexicans, as usual, drew off; and the Spaniards, dispirited and exhausted, fell back to their citadel.
That evening Montezuma died. He had refused all nourishment, as well as medicine, from the time he had been wounded. Father Olmedo did his best to persuade him to embrace the Christian faith, but Montezuma stoutly refused. Just before he died he sent for Cortez, and recommended his three daughters by his principal wife to his charge; begging him to interest his master, the emperor, on their behalf, and to see that they had some portion of their rightful inheritance.
"Your lord will do this," he said, "if only for the friendly offices I have rendered the Spaniards; and for the love that I have shown them, though it has brought me to this condition; but for this I bear them no ill will."
This Cortez promised and, after the conquest, took the three ladies into his own family. They were instructed in the doctrines of Christianity, and were married to Spanish nobles, and handsome dowries assigned to them.
The news of Montezuma's death was received with real grief by the Spaniards, to whom his generosity, and constant kindness, and gentleness of manner had endeared him. There can be but little doubt that, in spite of the accusations against him of meditating treachery, Montezuma was, from the time they entered the capital, sincere in his goodwill towards the Spaniards. He was devoted to his own gods, and believed implicitly in the prophecy that Quetzalcoatl, or his descendants, would return to rule Mexico. Their superior science and attainments confirmed him in his belief that the Spaniards fulfilled the prophecy, and he was willing to resign alike his power, his possessions, and himself to their hands. In his early days he had shown great personal bravery; and the cowardice he displayed, throughout the whole of his dealing with the Spaniards, was the result of superstition, and not that of personal fear.
Cortez paid all respect to the remains of his late unhappy captive. The body was arrayed in royal robes, and laid on a bier; and was carried, by the nobles who had remained faithful to him during his imprisonment, into the city. It is uncertain where Montezuma was finally buried.
With the death of the emperor, the last hope of the Spaniards of making terms with their assailants vanished. There was nothing, now, but retreat. After some debate, it was settled that this should take place at night, when they would find the Mexicans unprepared. The difficulties of passage would be greater; but these would, it was thought, be counterbalanced by the advantage of being able to make at least a portion of their retreat unobserved.
It was determined that no time should be lost. The Mexicans would doubtless be mourning over the body of Montezuma, and would be unprepared for such prompt action on the part of the Spaniards.
The first question was the disposal of the treasure. The soldiers had, for the most part, converted their share of the gold into chains; which they wore round their necks. But there was a vast amount in bars and ornaments, constituting the one-fifth which had been set aside for the crown, the one-fifth for Cortez himself, and the shares of his principal officers.
One of the strongest horses was laden with the richest portion of the crown treasure, but all the rest was abandoned. The gold lay in great heaps.
"Take what you like of it!" Cortez said to his men, "but be careful not to overload yourselves. 'He travels safest, in the dark, who travels lightest.'"
His own veterans took his advice, and contented themselves with picking out a few of the most valuable ornaments; but the soldiers of Narvaez could not bring themselves to leave such treasures behind them, and loaded themselves up with as much gold as they could carry.
Cortez now arranged the order of march. The van was composed of two hundred Spanish foot, and twenty horsemen, under the orders of Gonzalo de Sandoval. The rearguard, with the main body of the infantry and the greater portion of the guns, was commanded by Alvarado and Velasquez de Leon. Cortez himself led the center, which was in charge of the baggage, some of the heavy guns, and the prisoners; among whom were a son and two daughters of Montezuma, Cacama, and the other nobles who had been in prison with him. The Tlascalans were divided among the three corps.
A portable bridge had been prepared for crossing the canals which intersected the causeway; the intention being that it should be laid across a canal, that the army should pass over it, and that it should then be carried forward to the next gap in the causeway. This was a most faulty arrangement, necessitating frequent and long delays, and entailing almost certain disaster. Had three such portable bridges been constructed, the column could have crossed the causeway with comparatively little risk; and there was no reason why these bridges should not have been constructed, as they could have been carried, without difficulty, by the Tlascalans.
At midnight the troops were in readiness for the march. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo; and at one o'clock on July 1st, 1520, the Spaniards sallied out from the fortress that they had so stoutly defended.
Silence reigned in the city. As noiselessly as possible, the troops made their way down the broad street, expecting every moment to be attacked; but even the tramping of the horses, and the rumbling of the baggage wagons and artillery did not awake the sleeping Mexicans, and the head of the column arrived at the head of the causeway before they were discovered. Then, as the advanced guard were preparing to lay the portable bridge across the first opening, some Aztec sentinels gave the alarm.
The priests on the summits of the temples heard their cries, and at once sounded their horns and the huge war drum. Instantly the city awoke, and the silence was succeeded by a roar of sound. The vanguard had scarcely got upon the causeway when canoes shot out upon the lake, and soon a storm of stones and arrows burst upon the column. More and more terrible did it become, as fresh canoes, crowded with the warriors, came up. Many of these pushed up to the causeway itself; and the natives, landing, fell upon the Spaniards with fury.
The latter made no stay. Fighting their way through their foes they pressed on until they reached the next opening in the causeway, and there waited for the bridge to come up. But a column many thousands strong, with baggage and artillery, takes a long time to cross a bridge; and the advanced guard had reached the opening long before the rear had passed the bridge, and there stood helpless, exposed to the terrible storm of missiles, until at last the column were all across the bridge.
Then forty picked men, who had been specially told off for the task, tried to raise it so that it might be carried to the front; but the weight of the baggage wagons and artillery had so wedged it into the earth, that they were unable to move it. They persevered in their efforts until most of them had fallen. The rest bore the terrible news to the army that the bridge was immovable.
A terrible cry of despair arose, as the news spread. All hope seemed lost and, regardless of order or discipline, all pressed forward to endeavor, in some way or other, to cross the obstacle that barred their way.
Pressed on by those behind them, Sandoval and his cavaliers dashed into the water. The distance was short, but the horses were weak from hunger, and burdened by their own heavy armor and that of their riders. Some succeeded in swimming across. Others sank; while some reached the opposite side, only to fall back again, as they tried to climb the steep bank.
The infantry followed them, throwing away their armor to enable them to swim. Some succeeded, others were pressed down by their comrades. Many were killed by the war clubs or spears of the Mexicans in their canoes. Others again, half stunned by the clubs, were dragged into the canoes and carried off to the city to be sacrificed.
All along the causeway the fight raged unceasingly; the Aztecs in the boats alongside leaping ashore, and grappling with their foes, and rolling with them down the causeway into the water; while those in the distance kept up their rain of missiles. The opening in the causeway was at last filled--choked up with ammunition wagons and guns, bales of rich goods, chests of gold, and the bodies of men and horses--and over these the Spaniards made their way.
Cortez had swum or waded across on his horse, and he rode on until he joined Sandoval and the remains of the advanced guard, who were checked at the third and last opening. The cavaliers set the example to their followers by plunging into the water. The rest followed as best they could. Many were drowned by the weight of the gold they carried. Others got across by clinging to the tails and manes of the horses.
Cortez, with Sandoval and other cavaliers, led the retreat until they reached the end of the causeway. The din of battle was now far behind, but those who came up brought the news that the rear guard were so sorely pressed, that they would be destroyed unless aid reached them.
Cortez and his companions did not hesitate. They dashed along the causeway, again swam the canal, and made their way through the crowd until they reached the rear guard. Morning was breaking now, and it showed the lake covered with canoes filled with warriors. Along the whole length of the causeway a desperate fight was raging.
Cortez found Alvarado on foot, his horse had been killed under him. With a handful of followers, he was still desperately defending the rear against the Mexicans, who had poured out from the city in pursuit. The artillery had at first done good service, sweeping the causeway and mowing down hundreds of their assailants; but the Aztecs were careless of life, and rushed on so furiously that they swept over the guns, killing those who served them, and fell upon the infantry.
The charge of Cortez and his companions for a moment bore back the foe; but, pressed by those behind, they swept aside resistance, and bore back the Spaniards to the edge of the canal. Cortez and his companions plunged in and swam across. Alvarado stood on the brink, hesitating. Unhorsed and defenseless, he could not make his way across the gap, which was now crowded with the canoes of the enemy. He set his strong lance on the bottom of the canal and, using it as a leaping pole, sprang across. The feat was an extraordinary one, for although the width is not given, it was declared, by those who witnessed it, to be impossible for any mortal. It filled friends and foes alike with astonishment; and the spot is, to this day, known by the Mexicans as "Alvarado's Leap."
The Aztecs followed no farther. They were occupied, now, in securing the enormous wealth the Spaniards had left behind them; and the remnants of the army marched along the causeway unmolested, and took possession of the village at its end.
Cortez, iron hearted as he was, sat down and burst into tears as he viewed the broken remnant of his army. He was consoled, however, by finding that many of his most trusted companions had escaped. Sandoval, Alvarado, Olid, Ordaz and Avila were safe; and so, to his great joy, was Marina. She had, with a daughter of a Tlascalan chief, been placed under the escort of a party of Tlascalan warriors, in the van of the column, and had passed unharmed through the dangers of the night.
The loss of the Spaniards in their retreat is variously estimated; but the balance of authority, among contemporary writers, places it at four hundred and fifty Spaniards, and four thousand Tlascalans. This, with the loss sustained in the previous conflicts, reduced the Spaniards to about a third, and the Tlascalans to a fifth of the force which had entered the capital. The greater part of the soldiers of Narvaez had been killed. They had formed the rear guard, and had not only borne the brunt of the battle, but had suffered from the effect of their cupidity. Of the cavalry but twenty-three remained mounted, all the artillery had been lost, and every musket thrown away in the flight.
Velasquez de Leon had fallen in the early part of the retreat, bravely defending the rear; and several others among the leaders had also fallen, together with all the prisoners whom they had brought out from the capital.
The remains of the army straggled on into the town of Tlacopan, but Cortez would allow of no halt there. At any moment the exultant Aztecs from the capital might arrive and, in a battle in the streets, the Spaniards would stand no chance, whatever, with their foes. He therefore hurried the soldiers through and, when outside, endeavored to form them into some sort of order.
It was necessary to give them a few hours of repose, and he led them towards an eminence, crowned by a temple, which commanded the plain. It was held by a party of natives; and the troops, dispirited and exhausted, refused at first to advance against them; but the influence of Cortez, backed by the example of his officers, had its usual effect. The column moved forward against the temple, and the natives, after a few discharges of missiles, abandoned the place.
It was a large building, affording ample shelter for the Spaniards and their allies. Provisions were found there, and a large supply of fuel intended for the service of the temple. Here, lighting great fires, they dried their clothing, bound up their wounds and, after partaking of food, threw themselves down to sleep.
Fortunate it was for the Spaniards that the Mexicans, contented with the slaughter they had inflicted, the plunder they had captured, and most of all with the prisoners whom they had carried off to be sacrificed on their altars, retired to the capital, and allowed the invaders twenty-four hours' breathing time. Had they pressed them hotly and relentlessly, from the moment when they emerged from the causeway, they would have annihilated them; for at that time the Spaniards were too worn out, and dispirited, to be capable of any effectual resistance. Food and rest, however, did wonders for them. They were hardy veterans, and with Cortez and the leaders they most trusted with them, they soon came to look at matters in a more cheerful light.
They were still stronger than they were when they first marched upon Mexico. Why, then, should they despair of making their way back to Tlascala, where they would have rest and friends? They knew there was a long and painful march before them, and probably desperate battles to fight; but in a fair field, they felt themselves a match for any number of the enemy; and when, late in the evening, their officers bade them form up and prepare for a night's march, they fell in steadily and willingly; and Cortez felt that they could again be relied upon, under every emergency.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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19
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: The Passage Of The Causeway.
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On marching out from the city, Roger and his two comrades formed part of a picked band, to whom was entrusted the charge of the prisoners. Roger had been specially selected, as he could translate to them any order given by the officer of the party; and he was ordered to march next to them.
He had once or twice in the past few days been enabled, by the intervention of Marina, to visit the prisoners. Cacama's spirit was in no way shaken by captivity.
"Your general has made a fatal mistake," he said, "in sending Cuitlahua out to pacify the populace. He is of very different stuff from Montezuma, who has become a woman in the hands of the Spanish. You will see that he will never return, but will lead the people on to the attack.
"It matters little to us. I know that we shall never escape. The Spaniards will slay us all, rather than that we should rejoin our people. But for that I care not. One would rather die in battle than be slain as a captive; but in either case we shall be dying for our country, and what can we wish for more? It is the duty of all to risk their lives, whenever they be needed for their country. Some here have fought in fifty battles for Mexico. I am younger, but not too young to have shared in many a battle. I fear death in no way, my friend, and should welcome it, as a change from captivity.
"I am well content, now. I should have grieved to have died, believing that the Mexicans had lost all their ancient spirit and courage, and were content to be slaves beneath the yoke of a handful of strangers; but now I see that they were asleep, and not dead; and that these boasting strangers will find that the despised Mexican is a match for them; I shall die happy."
The news of the wounding of Montezuma, and the desperate fighting in the streets and round the palace, excited the prisoners to the utmost. In their place of confinement they heard the thunder of the guns, the perpetual rattle of the musketry, and the shouts and yells of the combatants; but it was only when Roger visited them that they obtained any details as to the combat that was going on. They were filled with enthusiasm, as they heard how desperately their countrymen were fighting; and their only regret was that they could not join in the struggle, and die leading the assault against the Spaniards.
Roger did not see them, upon the last day, until he took his place by their side, when the column formed up in the courtyard.
"I am to keep near you, Cacama," he said, "in order to translate anything the officer may have to say to you."
"We are going to leave the city?" Cacama asked, eagerly.
"Yes, we are going to cross the causeway."
The officer in charge here came up, and gave an order which Roger interpreted: "He asks whether you will all give a pledge to remain silent, as we march out. If you will do so, he will accept your promise; but if not, he will be forced to gag you, as the safety of the army depends upon our getting beyond the streets, before our march is discovered."
"I wonder that they are ready to take our promise," Cacama said disdainfully, "after their own treachery. However, an Aztec noble is not like a Spaniard. Our faith may be depended upon. We will give our word to be silent."
The other prisoners also promised, and were allowed to take their places in the column, ungagged.
The alarm was given long before the rear of the column had got out from the street. Cacama gave an exclamation of joy, when he heard the silence broken by loud cries at the end of the street; and immediately afterwards by the shouts of the priests on the lofty temples, by the blowing of horns, and the beating of the great war drum.
"The game has begun," he said. "We shall see how many Spaniards remain alive, when the sun rises. Long before they can get across the causeway, our people will be upon them. We shall not see the triumph, for without defensive armor we shall fall, in the darkness, beneath the missiles of our own people. That matters not. Better to die at the hands of a Mexican, struggling to be free, than at those of these treacherous invaders."
The missiles showered down thickly upon the column, from the houses, till they emerged from the street and made their way out on to the causeway. Then they became exposed to the storm of arrows, darts, and stones from the canoes on the lake. By their officer's orders, the soldiers immediately in charge of the prisoners drew their swords and formed a circle round them; with orders to fall upon and kill them, at once, did they make the slightest movement to escape. Roger translated to the captives the officer's assurance that, although he was most anxious for their safety, he had no resource but to order the soldiers to slay them, at once, if they made any movement to escape.
"We shall not try to escape," Cacama said. "How can we do so, with our hands bound?"
During the long pause that ensued, before the rear of the column passed over the bridge on to the causeway, the impatience among the soldiers was great. Many had already fallen beneath the missiles of the enemy. Scarce one but had received wounds, more or less severe. Several of the prisoners, too, had fallen.
"What is it?" Cacama asked, as the cry of despair went up; when it became known that the bridge was immovable, and that there were no means of crossing the breaks in the causeway, ahead.
He muttered an exclamation of triumph, when Roger repeated to him the news he had just learned.
"That settles it," he said. "Their fate is now sealed. The gods are at last fighting again for Mexico.
"Roger, I am sorry for you, I am sorry for my wife, and for Amenche; but I rejoice for my country. If you should escape this night, Roger--and you have more chance than most, since you speak our language--do all you can for them."
"You may be sure that I shall do that, Cacama; but the chance of any escaping seems, to me, a small one. Still, it may be that some will get over alive. The Spaniards have their faults, Cacama, but they are grand soldiers; and at any rate, now that they see they must win their way or perish, they will perform wonders."
"Ah!" the exclamation was caused by an arrow striking the young prince in the chest.
At this time a terrible fight was raging all around them. The natives had gained a footing on the causeway, and the Spaniards were fighting hand to hand with them.
"I am mortally wounded, Roger," Cacama said. "Most of the others have already fallen. It is better so. I have lived long enough to see vengeance taken on our oppressors.
"Roger, there is one chance for you. Wrap round you one of our mantles. In the darkness, none will see that you are not a Mexican, and they will not shoot at you.
"Listen, there is Cuitcatl's war cry. I know his voice; and doubtless they have discerned our white dresses, in the darkness, and he is trying to rescue us."
The crowd, pressing along the causeway, had swept the guards away from the prisoners--indeed, there were now scarcely any prisoners left to guard. Unprotected by any defensive armor, most of them had fallen very early in the conflict. Roger was supporting Cacama, and another prisoner lay dead at their feet.
Roger stooped and snatched off his mantle; then, lifting Cacama in his arms, forced his way through the press to the edge of the causeway, just as a canoe ran up alongside, and a number of Aztecs sprang ashore.
"Cuitcatl!" Roger shouted, at the top of his voice.
"Here," the young noble exclaimed, as he sprang forward.
"Here is Cacama," Roger cried.
At the same moment, he received a stunning blow on the back of his helmet from one of the Spaniards, who took him for a Mexican; and fell down the side of the causeway, into the water, with his burden in his arms.
When Roger recovered his senses, he was lying in a canoe, which was being paddled rapidly. He had been insensible but a few minutes, for the cries of the combatants still sounded close at hand. Cuitcatl was bending over him.
"How is Cacama?" he asked, as soon as he could speak.
"Alas! He is dead," Cuitcatl replied. "You did your best to save him, Roger.
"He spoke but once, after we had got him into the canoe. He said 'Protect my wife, Cuitcatl; and save our friend.'"
"Where are you taking us?" Roger asked next.
"We will land some distance up the lake. There I will obtain bearers, and carry Cacama home, that he may be buried as one of his rank should be. As to you, we must think what had best be done. None of those with me know who you are; believing, in the darkness, that you are one of ourselves. They are my own men, and I can rely upon them when their blood is cooled; but it were best that, at present, they remained in ignorance. Bathalda is in the bow, and his influence and mine will be sufficient to control them, when we are once out of hearing of the conflict. Nothing, save my duty to Cacama, would have withdrawn me from it; but they must do without me. Not a Spaniard will see tomorrow's sun.
"Are you badly hurt, Roger? It is too dark to see anything."
"Not badly. I have several arrow points sticking in me, in one place or another; but they have not gone deep. My armor kept them out. It was a blow on the head that felled me. There were many Mexicans on the causeway, fighting with the Spaniards; and I was, of course, mistaken for one of them. My helmet broke the blow, and I was stunned rather than injured, I think.
"How came you to be just at that spot?"
"I was on the lookout for the prisoners, being determined to rescue Cacama, if possible; and as I was fighting, farther back, I heard it said that there were several white dresses among the Spaniards ahead. So I made to that point and, just as I was springing ashore, heard your shout; and saw you roll down, you and another. I guessed it might be Cacama, for I knew that you would do your best to save him; and so sprang back again to the water's edge, and found that it was so.
"And found, alas! that Cacama was mortally wounded. How about the other prisoners?"
"I think that all had fallen, before he did. You see, they had no protection; and even we who had armor were suffering, terribly, from the missiles poured in among us. I know that two ladies, Montezuma's daughters, were among the first to fall. More than that I cannot say, for I kept close to Cacama, hoping that in some way I might find an opportunity to aid his escape; and had he not been struck, just when he was, I might have done so; for after the news came that the bridge could not be removed, all was confusion, and each man thought only of saving his own life."
After rowing for three hours the canoe, having made a circuit of the city and crossed the lake, reached the shore at a distance of a few miles from Tezcuco. Cacama's body was lifted ashore, then Cuitcatl said to Bathalda: "Bathalda, you will be glad to know that we have saved Cacama's friend, and mine, Roger Hawkshaw."
The forester gave an exclamation of pleasure.
"I am glad, indeed," he exclaimed. "I wondered what had become of him, in the fight."
Bathalda's exclamation silenced the murmur with which the others had heard that one of the white men had been saved, by them, from the general destruction which, as they believed, had fallen upon their oppressors.
"He is a friend of our people," Cuitcatl went on, "and is of another race to these Spaniards. As you see, men, he speaks our language well, and is like one of ourselves. Cacama held him as a dear friend; and as you know, Cacama hated the Spaniards, and had it not been for treason would have attacked them, long ago.
"Now, form a litter with the paddles and lay Cacama upon it. Morning is breaking, and we have far to go. The new Lord of Tezcuco is a friend of the Spaniards. We must get well away, as soon as we can."
Roger threw aside the Spanish helmet. Cuitcatl took some of the plumes from his own headdress, and bound them round his head and, as soon as the bier was constructed, the little party started. In the afternoon they arrived at Cuitcatl's house, the chief having himself gone forward, to inform the queen of Cacama's fate, and of the near approach of the party, with his body.
It was a mournful scene, when they arrived. The whole of the male and female retainers were assembled outside the house, the women filling the air with cries and lamentations, the men weeping and wailing. The bearers of the bier passed into the house, where Maclutha awaited it.
Roger, unwilling to intrude upon the grief of the unhappy queen, remained without, talking to Bathalda; the natives viewing him with hostility and wonder, being unable to understand how it was that their lord had brought one of the white men to his house.
In a minute or two, however, Amenche's attendant ran down the steps to Roger and, telling him to follow her, led the way to the apartment where the princess was waiting him. She fell, crying, into his arms.
"It is terrible, Roger," she sobbed. "As long as my brother was but a captive, we had hoped that he might be restored to us; and now he is brought home dead--slain, too, by a Mexican arrow."
"Cacama was ready for death, Amenche. I was beside him, from the time he left his prison. He was sure that we should be attacked; and saw that, as he and those with him were unprotected by any armor, they would be the first to fall when the fighting began as, in the darkness, the Mexicans would not be able to distinguish them from their enemies. But he said that he was quite content to die, seeing that the people had now recovered their ancient spirit, and were battling with heroes against their oppressors."
"And they are all destroyed," Amenche exclaimed, passionately.
"We do not know that," Roger replied. "Their position was a terrible one and seemed well-nigh hopeless. I know that Cuitcatl regarded it as quite hopeless, and deems that all have fallen; but I do not think so. The passages to be crossed were of no great width; and though numbers may have fallen, I believe that some will have made their way across. They will have lost their guns, and if the Aztecs continue to press them as hotly as they did upon the causeway, they may slay them all; but if they give them time to rally, they may yet fight their way back to Tlascala."
"And you will stop here with us, Roger. Is it not so?"
"If your people will allow me to do so, I will, Amenche. I ask for nothing better; but remember that even Cacama, himself, felt doubtful whether he could protect me from the power of the priests--and at that time their reason for hating the Spaniards was small to what it now is, and Cacama himself has gone. Cuitcatl, though a powerful cazique, has but small influence in comparison with that which Cacama, as King of Tezcuco and nephew of Montezuma, possessed."
"How is Montezuma? What has become of him? We heard that he was wounded; but it scarce seems possible that his own subjects should raise a hand against him."
"He died yesterday afternoon, and Cortez delivered his body to the people of the city."
The girl uttered an exclamation of horror.
"This is dreadful, indeed," she said, bursting again into tears. "To think of the great emperor being dead! What horrors and misfortunes have befallen us!
"It is bad for us, too, Roger. I was one of his favorite nieces, and I thought of going to him and obtaining his permission to marry you, in order that you should be received into the nation. Now that hope is gone.
"But I must leave you for a while, and go to Maclutha. I must not leave her longer, alone in her grief."
Soon afterwards, Cuitcatl entered the room.
"Come, Roger," he said; "a meal has been prepared, and we both sorely need food and rest. Tomorrow we shall have time to talk over the future, and by that time I shall have news whether any of the Spaniards have escaped. If they have, I must hurry off again; for Cuitlahua has sworn that not one shall leave the country, alive, and every man who can bear arms must take the field against them. But it will be an easy task for, at any rate, few can have got off that causeway alive."
Roger was glad, as soon as he had finished his meal, to throw himself down on a couch. He had been on guard, the greater part of the night before the sortie to clear the street leading to the causeway, and had slept but an hour or two, the following evening. He had lost a good deal of blood, from the blow he had received on the head; and from the arrow wounds, of which he had several, although none were serious; and he was now completely done up.
Amenche stole away from Maclutha, for a few minutes' talk with him and Cuitcatl, while they had their meal; and after hearing an outline of the later events of the siege of the palace, and of the fight on the causeway, she had herself insisted that Roger should instantly seek repose.
"I shall be occupied with Maclutha, and there is much to see about, in such times as these. There can be no pomp and ceremonial of burial. That must come when peace is restored, and we carry Cacama's ashes to be laid with his father's, at Tezcuco. Bathalda and some of the slaves have already started to bring in wood for the funeral pile. All will be ready by sunrise, tomorrow."
Roger's wounds were dressed, by one of the slaves who was skilled in all operations connected with wounds; and he slept, without once waking, until Cuitcatl came to him in the morning and bade him arise, as all was ready for the ceremony of Cacama's cremation.
The rule in Mexico was that, on the death of anyone, the body was attired in the garments peculiar to his tutelary deity; but Cacama was dressed, simply, in the robe indicating his rank.
"You see," Amenche said, when Roger joined them; "we have dressed him in a warrior's robes, not in those of a Lord of Tezcuco; for we have none such here. Nor have we attired him in the garments of our god. For Cacama, as you know, worshiped chiefly the great Unknown God, in whom his grandfather believed; who is Lord of all the gods, and of all peoples; and who must be the same, Roger, that you white people worship."
"No doubt He is the same," Roger said; "and I am glad, Amenche, that you and your brother have already come to love Him. He is not Lord of all gods, for He is the only God. There are none others.
"Some day, dear, when you come to England with me, a priest shall instruct you in all we know of Him.
"But I see they are going to light the pile. What are all those pieces of paper that cover his body?"
"They are charms, Roger, against the dangers of the unknown road he has to travel. It is the custom of the country, and we did not think it worth while to depart from it. It is also the custom to sacrifice numbers of slaves, and send them to be his attendants upon the road. But the Unknown God hates all sacrifices of blood; and Cacama, although forced to yield to the power of the priests, would have had none, could he have helped it, in Tezcuco."
Cuitcatl, as the oldest friend of the dead prince, applied a torch to the pile, which was composed for the most part of aromatic wood. Maclutha and Amenche broke into a plaintive hymn, in which their attendants, and the females who had collected, in considerable numbers, from the neighboring villages, joined. Higher and higher rose the flames, the voices rising with them; until the dirge culminated in a loud wailing cry, as the flames reached the corpse, and hid it from view. Then the hymn recommenced, and continued until the pile had been burnt down.
The mourners then re-entered the house, leaving the two or three priests who were present to collect the ashes, and to place them in a large gold vase; of which they would act as guardians, until the time came for its removal, in solemn procession, to Tezcuco.
Cuitcatl took Roger aside.
"I have bad news from Mexico," he said. "You were right, and I was mistaken. A portion of the Spaniards and Tlascalans succeeded in crossing the breaches in the causeway, and gaining the mainland. However, it is said that two-thirds of their number perished. As they have lost the terrible weapons, that committed such destruction, they will be at our mercy. We know now that they are not invincible. Their terror has departed.
"Be assured that they will not escape us. They have reached land on the opposite side of the lake, and will have to make a great circuit, which will give us time to collect our forces. Cuitlahua has already dispatched a messenger to every town and village, ordering all to assemble under their chiefs; and to be prepared to march, at a moment's notice, when the rendezvous is settled upon. I would it had all been finished on the causeway, but there can be no doubt as to the result.
"At most there are but four hundred Whites and four thousand Tlascalans, while we shall number over one hundred thousand. They say the white men have lost not only their great guns, but those they carry on their shoulders; and that only twenty or thirty of their strange animals have survived. Therefore, this time, we shall fight with something like equal arms, and shall overwhelm them as the sea overwhelms the rock."
"Your simile is an unfortunate one, Cuitcatl. The sea covers the rock, but when it retires the rock remains. Still, it does seem to me that, however valiantly the Spaniards may fight, they cannot withstand such terrible odds.
"But I cannot rejoice with you. You know that I abhor, as much as you do, the cruel massacre at the temple. My sympathies were with your people, while struggling to throw off the yoke that the Spaniards had imposed upon them; but I am white, like them. I know that many among them are noble men, and that much of the harm they have committed has been done from conscientious motives; just as your people have, from a desire to please the gods, offered up thousands of human victims, every year. Much as they love gold, many of them--and certainly Cortez among them--think more of spreading their religion than they do of personal ambition, or even of gain. I have many acquaintances and some good friends, among them; and I cannot think of their being all destroyed, without regret and horror. I do not say that you are not justified in killing all, for your existence as a nation is at stake; but to me, it is terrible."
"I can understand that, my friend; but nothing can avert their destruction.
"Now, as to yourself. Had it not been for Cacama's death, I should have said it were best that you should marry Amenche, at once; but among us, it would be most unseemly for a sister to think of marrying, when her brother has but just died."
"It is the same with us," Roger said. "A certain time must always pass, after the death of a near relative, before marriage. Besides, the present is no time for thinking of such a thing. My fate is altogether uncertain, and I own that I consider there is small ground for hope that I can escape from the present troubles. If, as seems certain now, the Spaniards are all destroyed, the people will more than ever venerate their gods, and the power of the priests will be almost unlimited.
"It is useless for me to try to deceive myself, Cuitcatl. I know your friendship, but you would not have the power to withstand the decision of the priests. They will never permit a single white man to remain alive in the land. Had Cacama lived, he might possibly have protected me; but I think that even his authority would have been insufficient to do so. If the Spaniards are destroyed, I have but one chance of my life: and that is, to make my way down to the coast, and to sail away with the Spaniards there."
Cuitcatl was silent, for he felt the force of what Roger said.
"If you go, you must not go alone," he replied at last. "Amenche would die, were you to desert her."
"I will assuredly take her, if she will accompany me," Roger said; "but I do not think that there is much chance of my escape, even in that way. The news of the destruction of the Spaniards will be carried, with the speed of the wind, down to the coast; and the tribes there will instantly rise and fall upon the Spaniards. Those who have been the most friendly with them will be the very first to take up arms against them, in order to make their peace with the Aztecs, and to avert their vengeance for the aid they have given the Spaniards. Long before we could reach the coast, the Spaniards there would either be killed, or driven on board their ships."
Cuitcatl could not deny the justice of Roger's reasoning.
"There is nothing to do," the latter went on, "but to wait--at any rate, until this battle has taken place. Impossible as it seems, the Spaniards may yet extricate themselves from the toils; in which case I should join them. If not, and I find my escape by the coast cut off, by the rising of the tribes there, the only thing that I can see is to take to the mountains; and to live there, as I did with Bathalda, on the proceeds of the chase. I might then, perhaps, in time make my way to people in the far north, who have not such reason as they have here for hating a man with a white skin; or I might wait until the Spaniards send another expedition, to carry out what Cortez has failed to accomplish."
Leaving their fires burning, the remains of the Spanish army marched, at midnight, from the temple where they had enjoyed rest, and had recruited their strength and spirits. The sick and wounded were placed in the center, and carried on litters, or on the backs of the porters; while others, who were strong enough to sit upright, rode on the horses behind the mounted soldiers. All night the march continued without disturbance; but in the morning, large parties of natives were seen moving about. Tlacopan lay on the most westerly point of the lake, and the most direct route of the Spaniards would have been to keep along by its margin; but had they done so, they would have been liable to attack from the capital; as the troops could have poured out across the causeway to Tepejacac, and headed them there. They therefore struck off due north, with the intention of passing to the west of Lake Xaltocan.
The country was a broken one; and the Mexicans, gathering on the hills, rolled stones down upon them, with volleys of arrows and darts. Sometimes they even ventured to descend into the plain, and fall upon the rear of the column. As often as they did so, however, the little body of cavalry drove them off. The infantry column kept steadily on its way, though greatly harassed by the continued attacks.
Day after day passed in this manner, the Spaniards being reduced to great straits, from want of food; as the natives, in the small towns and villages through which they passed, carried off all provisions and stores; and the only food the soldiers could obtain were wild cherries, and a few ears of corn that had been left by the harvesters. Sometimes a horse fell dead, from exhaustion, and afforded a welcome supply of food.
Many of the soldiers dropped, lifeless from fatigue and famine. Others, unable to keep up the march, fell behind and were captured by the enemy, and carried off to furnish sacrifices for the gods. To lighten themselves, the soldiers threw away the gold, to obtain which they had dared so many dangers, and suffered so many hardships. Life itself was at stake, and the precious metal had ceased to have any value in their eyes.
Through those terrible days Cortez, as usual, set a splendid example to his solders. He was in the front, wherever danger threatened. He bore his full share of the hardships, and by his cheerfulness and calmness kept up the spirits of the soldiers, and cheered them by assuring them they might yet escape from the dangers that menaced them.
The Tlascalans also behaved admirably; and appeared to bear no grudge, whatever, against the Spaniards, for the sufferings which their alliance had brought upon them.
Passing through the town of Quauhtitlan, and round the north of Lake Tzompanco, they at last turned their faces east; and on the seventh day reached the edge of the plateau, and looked down upon the plains of Otompan. They were still but thirty miles, in a direct line, from the capital; but they had traversed fully three times that distance, in their circuitous journey.
During the last day's march, the numbers of the natives who surrounded them had considerably increased; and menacing shouts, of the fate that awaited them, greeted them as they marched along. The nature of the peril was not understood until, on reaching the crest from which they looked down on the valley of Otompan, they saw that it was filled with a mighty army; whose white cotton mail gave it--as one of their historians states--the appearance of being covered with snow. Here were all the levies that Cuitlahua had collected. The whole of the cities of the plains had sent in their quota, and the bright banners of the chiefs and nobles waved gaily over the snowy array of their followers.
The numbers of the Mexicans were put down at varying amounts by the Spanish historians, some of them having them as high as two hundred thousand; but it is probable that at least half that number were assembled, to bar the march of the worn-out little force that surveyed them from the heights. Even the most hopeful and courageous of the Spaniards felt something like dismay, as they viewed the tremendous array before them. Deprived of the weapons on which they had chiefly depended for victory, with their cavalry reduced to a mere handful, the prospect seemed indeed desperate. But there was no room for hesitation. They must cut a way through the enemy, or die.
Cortez addressed the troops in a short speech of encouragement. He reminded them that they had already won victories against enormous odds; and that numbers, indeed, were but of slight consequence, when the arm of God was with them.
"Assuredly He, who had carried them safely through so many perils, would not now abandon them, and His own good cause, to perish by the hand of these infidels."
With steady step and in compact array, the little force descended the hill into the plain; and as soon as they reached the level ground, the Aztec host attacked them, on all sides. The handful of cavalry, consisting almost entirely of the personal friends and officers of Cortez, cleared the way for the head of the column by repeated and desperate charges; while the infantry, with pike and sword, maintained a front that the Aztecs, although fighting with the greatest bravery, were unable to break.
The Tlascalans fought as stoutly as the Spaniards. Their native land lay almost within sight, and the love of home, and the remembrance of many a victory gained over the Aztecs, animated them to rival the steadfastness of their white comrades.
Yet though unbroken, the little force was but as an island in the midst of an ocean. The attacks, although always repulsed, were constantly renewed. The gaps in the ranks of the enemy were filled up with fresh combatants and, as hour after hour went on, even the most hopeful in the Spanish band began to feel that the contest could have but one termination; and that they would be overcome, not so much by the arms of the Aztecs, as by fatigue, thirst and hunger.
The cavalry had performed prodigies of valor. Breaking up into knots of threes and fours, they had charged into the dense crowd of the enemy; clearing a way for themselves with lance and sword, and by the weight of the horses and armor. But such charges could have but little effect on the fortunes of the day. The numbers of those they slew counted for nothing, in such a host; and the lanes they made closed behind them, until, after making a circuit, they again joined the main body.
For hours the fight raged. The Spanish battle cry, "Saint James and Our Lady!" still rose sternly, in answer to the triumphant yells of the Aztecs. Their front was still unbroken, but all felt that nothing, short of a miracle, could save them. Not one but was wounded in many places by the Aztec missiles. Their arms were weary with striking. The sun blazed down upon them with scorching heat. Their throats were parched with thirst. They were enfeebled by hunger.
The Aztecs, seeing that their foes were becoming faint and wearied, that the horses of the cavaliers could scarce carry them, and that the end was approaching, redoubled their shouts; and pressed more heartily and eagerly than ever upon the Spaniards, driving the cavalry back, by sheer weight, into the ranks of the infantry.
Cortez, at this supreme moment, still maintained his calmness. He saw that all was lost, unless a change was made, and that speedily. Another hour at latest, and the resistance would be over, and the brave men who had followed him be either dead, or prisoners reserved for sacrifice.
Throughout the day he had ordered his cavaliers to strike ever at the chiefs, knowing well that undisciplined bodies of men become lost, without leaders. Raising himself in his stirrups, he looked round over the seething mass of the foe; and at some distance beheld a small body of officers, whose gay and glittering attire showed them to belong to the highest rank of nobles; gathered round a litter on which was a chief, gorgeously attired with a lofty plume of feathers floating above his head; rising above which was a short staff, bearing a golden net.
Cortez knew that this was the symbol carried by the Aztec commanders in chief. He called to his comrades--Sandoval, Olid, Alvarado, Avila, and the other cavaliers--and pointing to the chief, cried: "There is our mark! Follow, and support me."
Then he spurred his wearied horse forward, and dashed into the throng, followed by his cavaliers.
The fury and suddenness of the attack bore all before it. The compact little body of horsemen, shouting their battle cry, clove through the ranks of the enemy, making straight for the Indian commander, whose name was Cihuaca. In vain the Mexicans tried to bar the way. In vain, when after a few minutes of tremendous exertion, Cortez reached his goal, the nobles and the bodyguard strove to defend their chief. Cortez, fighting with almost superhuman vigor, clove his way through all opposition; and with his lance ran through the Aztec general, and hurled him to the ground, when one of his followers, leaping from his horse, quickly dispatched him.
The guard, appalled by the suddenness of the attack, broke and fled in all directions, scattering panic among the lately triumphant host. Scarce knowing what had happened, but feeling that some dreadful misfortune had occurred, and all was lost, the Aztecs were seized with a blind terror; and breaking their ranks, thought only of escape.
As if by magic, a victorious army was transformed into a flying mob. The Spaniards and Tlascalans took instant advantage of the change. Fatigue and thirst, wounds and exhaustion were forgotten. With shouts of triumph, and vengeance, they broke their ranks and followed hotly upon the fugitives. These, impeded by their very numbers, and half mad with panic, offered no resistance whatever. Great numbers were overtaken and slain and, when the Spaniards abandoned the pursuit at the summons of their leader's trumpet, and assembled round him, the field was covered with the bodies of their fallen foes.
An hour was spent in gathering the booty from the bodies of the chiefs, of whom great numbers had fallen; and then, after offering up thanks to God for their marvelous deliverance, the army again renewed their march. It was already late in the afternoon, and they halted at sunset at a temple standing on an eminence, which afforded them shelter and a defensive position, should the Aztecs renew the assault.
But of this there was little fear. Their defeat had been utter and complete. There was no chance of their rallying.
The victory of Otompan was one of the most remarkable ever won. The discrepancy of numbers was immense. The Spaniards were unprovided with artillery or firearms, and owed their success to their discipline and bravery, and still more to the extraordinary valor and quick-sightedness of their leader.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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20
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: At Tlascala.
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Roger was sitting in the evening, conversing with Maclutha and Amenche on the probabilities of the battle that was expected to take place on that day, when Cuitcatl suddenly entered. His robe of bright feather work was gone. The panache of floating plumes was shorn from his head. His white garment was stained with blood. He was overcome by exhaustion and grief.
No words were needed to explain what had taken place. Impossible as it had seemed, the Aztec army had been defeated. A cry broke from the two ladies, as he entered.
"The white man's God has triumphed," he said, "and the Aztecs have been defeated. You were right, Roger. Mere handful as they were, the white men have gained the day. Even now, I hardly know how it came about. Never did my countrymen fight more bravely. For hours, the Spaniards stood as a wall which we, in vain, tried to break. Thousands fell on our side, but not for a moment did we waver. Others took their places until, as the hours went on, the Spaniards grew weary, and victory seemed in our grasp. Their horsemen had charged through and through us, but though many chiefs were slain, it mattered little. The ranks closed up, and each time they fell back on their infantry, having achieved nothing. Their horses were weary, and their attacks grew more feeble.
"Already, our cries of victory were raised. An hour more, and not a Spaniard would have remained on foot. Just at this time my command had been ordered up, and we were fighting in the front rank.
"Suddenly I heard, from all parts of the field, loud cries. What had happened I knew not. We stood for a moment, irresolute, not knowing what had befallen us elsewhere. Then a panic seized my men. In vain I shouted and ordered. They were deaf to my voice. They were deaf to everything, save fear.
"I was swept away with them, as a leaf on a stream. When at last I freed myself from the torrent, and looked round, I saw that the whole army was in mad flight; while the whites and Tlascalans, like hounds in pursuit of deer, were hanging on their rear, slaughtering all they overtook.
"In vain I gathered a few men, and made a stand. It was useless. We were beaten down and overpowered. With the greatest difficulty I broke away and escaped; and had it not been for Bathalda, who fought side by side with me, I should have been taken by two or three fleet-footed Tlascalans.
"For the present, all is lost. The fight cannot be renewed tomorrow, and before the sun sets the enemy will have reached the borders of Tlascala, and will be safe there."
"But what was it that caused so sudden a panic in your ranks?" Roger asked.
"It was the death of Cihuaca, our leader. The Spanish horse, headed, as I hear, by their general himself, burst through our ranks, cut their way to his litter, overthrew his bodyguard, and slew him. His death would have mattered little, as the victory was already won. We needed no further orders. We had but to keep on fighting, and the end would soon have come. It was simply a panic. None knew what had happened. The word passed from man to man, 'All is lost!' and, like a herd of deer, our bravest soldiers fled. It is not a thing to reason about--the gods deserted us, and we were no longer men. That is all I can tell you about it."
And the chief flung himself down upon a pile of rugs. Wine and food were brought to him, and his wounds dressed.
"Roger," he said presently, "you must leave us, tonight. Those of my followers who have escaped will soon make their way back, and my authority will be unable to save you. The priests would head the movement against you. You would be bound and carried to Mexico, at once.
"The whites, in their march tomorrow, will pass along the road four miles to the north of this. Conceal yourself in a wood until morning, and join them as they come along.
"As to the future, you can make no plans, now. You know not whether Cortez will retire to the coast and take ship there; or whether he will remain at Tlascala, till reinforcements arrive from across the sea, and then again advance. When this is decided, you will know what course to take.
"Bathalda will accompany you. I have already given him orders to do so. He will bring down a message from you, when you know what course has been decided on."
"And if you go, dear, I will go with you," Amenche said, rising and putting her hand on Roger's shoulder. "Send for me, and Bathalda will escort me to you. I will bring such gems and gold as we can carry, so I shall not be a bride without a dower. You promise to send for me, do you not, Roger?"
"Certainly I do," Roger said, pressing her to him; "if I quit this land alive, you shall accompany me. I should be unworthy of your love, indeed, Amenche, were I to prove faithless to you now. I regard you as being as truly my wife, as if we were already married."
A short time afterwards Bathalda entered, and said that a number of soldiers were gathering in the courtyard, that some priests were among them, and that they were talking loudly about carrying the white man to Mexico, as a sacrifice to appease the wrath of the gods.
"There is no time to be lost," Cuitcatl said. "You had best go, Roger, before they surround the house and make escape impossible. I will fetch you a dark-colored robe, so that you may escape, unseen, by anyone who may be approaching the house on this side."
So saying, he left the room. Maclutha signed to Bathalda to follow her, and they went out, leaving Roger alone with Amenche.
The girl's firmness deserted her now, and she threw herself, weeping, into Roger's arms. He consoled her by his assurances that their parting would not be for long; and that the next time they met, whatever the circumstances, he would make her his own.
"If we retire, and you join me in Tlascala," he said, "we will be married by Father Olmedo, in Christian fashion. If I return hither to you, we will be married at once, in Mexican fashion, and go through the ceremony again, when we join the Spaniards."
A few minutes later Cuitcatl returned, as did Maclutha and Bathalda, the latter bearing a basket with some provisions. The parting was brief, for the servants had brought news that the soldiers were becoming more and more clamorous; and were threatening to force an entrance, if the white man were not handed over to them.
Bathalda and Roger left by a small door at the back of the house and, passing through the garden, took their way across the country. An hour's walking brought them to a wood, near the road by which the Spaniards would travel in the morning, and there they sat down and awaited daylight.
It was not until some hours after sunrise that the little army was seen approaching. On its flanks were large bodies of natives; who, however, contented themselves by hovering at a distance; except where the ground was impracticable for the action of cavalry, when they approached near enough to discharge their missiles at the line of troops. As the head of the column approached, Roger threw on his Aztec cloak and, accompanied by Bathalda, issued from the wood and ran towards them, and in two or three minutes reached the horsemen who rode in the van.
"Why, Sancho!" Cortez exclaimed, as Roger ran up. "Is it you? We all thought you had fallen in the fight on the causeway. I am glad to see that you are safe. How did you escape?"
"I was, like many others, your Excellency, seized by the Aztecs, pulled down the causeway, and thrown into a boat. I should have been taken to Mexico and sacrificed, had it not been that the commander of the boat was a young cazique, who had been my closest friend while dwelling in Tezcuco. He directed his men to row me across the lake, and took me to his house, which is but four miles away from here. There I have remained, having my wounds cared for, until now. He took part in the fight at Otompan, and returned last evening with the news of your wonderful victory, and that you would pass along here this morning.
"I had a narrow escape, last night, for some of the Aztec soldiers would have seized me and taken me a prisoner to Mexico; but the cazique aided me to escape, and gave me this follower of his, as a guide. He is the same man who accompanied me in my flight from Tezcuco, and brought me to join you at Tlascala."
"I am right glad that you have escaped, Sancho. Firstly, because every stout arm is sorely needed. Secondly, because Marina has grieved much for your loss. Truly, had you been her brother she could not have been more affected. She is in the center of the column. You had best tarry here until she comes along, and then join her. She will be rejoiced to see you again."
Marina was indeed delighted, when she caught sight of Roger's tall figure, and greeted him with much emotion. As they walked together, she heard how he had escaped; and she related to him how she, under the guard of the Tlascalans, had survived the terrible fight on the causeway; and then gave him a full account of the great battle, on the previous day.
"And what are we going to do now?" Roger asked, when she had finished her narration. "Think you that we shall proceed to the coast, and take ship for Europe?"
Marina tossed her head scornfully.
"You do not know Cortez," she said, "or you would not ask such a question. He is already thinking how he can return, and capture the capital."
"But unless he receives large reinforcements, that would seem impossible," Roger said. "You have yourself told me that, had it not been for the fall of the Mexican leader, nothing could have saved you from destruction. The Aztec loss was heavy, no doubt; but they can fill up their ranks and take the field again, in a week or two, with a force as large as that which fought at Otompan. They will not be dispirited, for they will know that it was but an accident which deprived them of victory, and will no longer deem the Spaniards invincible."
"It matters not," Marina said, carelessly. "Cortez will manage things. Whatever he undertakes, that he will carry out."
Late in the afternoon, the army arrived at the barrier across the road that marked the boundary of the Tlascalan territory. As they passed it, the native allies burst into cries of gladness; and the Spaniards joined in the shout, for to them, too, it seemed that their dangers were at an end, and that they had reached rest and abundance.
Cortez and the leaders, however, were by no means sanguine as to the reception they should meet with. Their alliance had brought misfortune upon the Tlascalans. Little more than one thousand out of the eight thousand men who had marched with them had returned to tell the tale. The rest had fallen in the defense of the palace, in the fighting in the streets of Mexico, in the passage of the causeway, or in the battle of Otompan.
What would the Tlascalans think, when they saw the broken remnant of the army, which had marched out so proudly, and knew that they brought on themselves the bitter enmity of the whole of the people of Anahuac? Might they not well be tempted to avert the wrath of the Aztecs, by falling upon the strangers, whose alliance had cost them so dearly?
At the place at which they halted for the night, a town of some fifteen thousand inhabitants, they were so kindly received by the natives that these apprehensions were somewhat laid to rest. The people came out to meet them, invited them to their houses, and treated them with the greatest hospitality. Here they remained three days, resting after their terrible fatigues.
They were visited here by Maxixca, the most influential of the four great chiefs of the Tlascalans. He had been their most cordial friend, on their first arrival; and his sentiments were in no wise changed by the misfortunes that had befallen them. Indeed, his admiration for them was heightened, by the manner in which they had withstood the whole power of the Aztec nation.
The cordial greeting, given to them by one whose counsels were of the highest authority in the Tlascalan nation, restored the confidence of Cortez; and he accepted the invitation to continue his march, at once, to the capital, which was some fifteen miles away. The sick and wounded were placed in hammocks, which were carried on the shoulders of the friendly natives; and as the army approached the capital, crowds of people flocked out to meet them, with cries of welcome, and escorted them into the city.
Cortez and his officers took up their abode in the palace of Maxixca, and the rest of the army were quartered in that part of the city over which he exercised special authority. Here they remained for some weeks, during which the wounded recovered from their injuries, the sick regained their strength in the bracing mountain air, and the whole army shook off the effects of the terrible hardships they had undergone, while retreating from Mexico.
Cortez, during this time, was confined to his couch. The wound on the hand, which he had received in the conflict in the capital, had been so inflamed and aggravated that he had lost the use of two fingers; and he had, in the retreat, received two severe wounds in the head, one of which became so inflamed from inattention, and from the fatigue and excitement he had gone through, that a portion of the bone had to be removed; and the general lay, for some time, at the point of death.
The news came, in a day or two after the army reached its resting place, that a party of five horsemen and forty foot, who had gone forward in charge of invalids and treasure from Tlascala, had all been massacred; and twelve other soldiers, marching in the same direction, had also been killed. Upon the other hand, they heard that all was quiet on the coast; and the friendly demeanor of the natives, there, was in no way changed.
Roger, seeing that for a time nothing could be done, and that the troops were all eager to retire to the coast, dispatched Bathalda, a few days after his arrival at Tlascala, to Amenche; to say that he considered it certain that the Spaniards would retire; and that, if she would come up to him in charge of Cuitcatl, whose safety he could guarantee, while in Tlascalan territory, they might be united; as Malinche had promised to obtain the consent of Cortez, who always encouraged marriages between his followers and the natives.
Before leaving, Bathalda handed to Roger a small bag.
"This," he said, "Maclutha gave to me, for you. It was for that purpose she drew me aside, before you started. She bade me not deliver it to you, unless I was compelled to part from you. It contains some of the principal jewels taken from the treasure house; and she said they might make you and the princess rich, when you reach home.
"They are useless to her. She has no children and, now that Cacama has gone, it is naught to her who rules over Tezcuco. Moreover, these are but a small portion of the treasure in her possession."
Roger sent his warm thanks to Maclutha and, after Bathalda had started, examined the contents of the bag, which he saw at once were very valuable--consisting of large pearls, diamonds, and other gems.
On the evening of the second day after starting, Bathalda returned, alone.
"I have very bad news," he said, "so bad that I hardly like to tell it. Four days since, an officer and guard arrived from Mexico, with orders to arrest Cuitcatl, who was reported by the priests in the neighborhood to have harbored a white man, and to have permitted him to escape. Maclutha and Amenche were also arrested, and though treated with every personal courtesy, were conducted to Mexico, where the official said they were, for the present, to remain in seclusion, in the royal palace."
Roger was stupefied by the news. What was to be done, he knew not. To desert Amenche was not to be thought of, and yet he saw no way of rejoining her, still less of rescuing her. In the present excited state of the Aztec population, it would be certain death to venture beyond the frontier of Tlascala.
He regarded his height, now, as the greatest misfortune. Had he been short and slight, he would have disguised himself as a Mexican, and under the guidance of Bathalda, have made his way to the capital; but with a figure which would be instantly remarked, wherever he went, this would be impossible.
He entered the palace, and sent in an urgent message to Malinche, who was nursing Cortez. She listened patiently to his narrative.
"I pity you, Roger," she said, when he had finished; "but there is nothing to be done."
"But I cannot march away and leave her," he said. "Rather than that, I will disguise myself and take all risks, even though I know that I must fail."
"You must have patience, Roger," she said. "Cortez will, I feel sure, recover."
"But if so, it will only be to march down to the coast," Roger broke in. "The whole army are eager to be off, before the Mexicans can gather their forces and be ready to fall upon them."
"The army may think what it likes, and wish what it likes," Malinche said, quietly. "I am sure that Cortez will not go down to the coast; and what he wills, he does. The others may grumble, but Cortez leads them like tame deer. When he is well enough to speak to them, they will listen and obey him. His thoughts, ill as he is, are all of a fresh march to Mexico."
Hitherto, Roger had been as desirous as any of his comrades of a return to the coast. It had seemed to him that there was no possibility of success, and he longed to be on his way to Europe, with his Indian bride.
But now everything was changed. He had come to have a faith in Cortez, almost as absolute as that entertained by the general's devoted followers; and he well knew that, if he still thought there was a possibility of a successful march to Mexico, that march would be made. He now, therefore, waited with impatience for Cortez to be on his feet again.
But the waiting was long and tedious. Four weeks passed before the general was again himself.
As soon as he became convalescent, the regulations which he issued for the army, and the orders that he sent to the coast, for every available man to be sent up to reinforce him, showed the soldiers that he had no intentions of retiring; and a remonstrance was signed, by a large number of officers and soldiers, against a further stay in the country. But Cortez was not shaken. He prayed them not to discredit the great name they had won, nor to leave their glorious enterprise for others, more daring, to finish. How could they, with honor, desert their allies who, at their persuasion, had taken up arms, and had shared their fortunes, and so leave them to the vengeance of the Aztecs? To retreat now would be but to proclaim their weakness, and give confidence to their foes.
If, however, there were any who preferred going home to the glory of this great enterprise, then in God's Name let them go. He would feel stronger, with but a few brave spirits with him, than if surrounded by a host of false or cowardly men.
The troops of Narvaez had been the loudest in their complaints, but they were silenced now by the enthusiasm with which the soldiers of Cortez responded to the appeal of their leader; and all agreed to postpone their departure, for the present.
A fresh source of danger speedily arose. Six Aztec ambassadors arrived, bearing presents, and inviting the Tlascalans to forget old animosities, and to enter into a treaty with them. All the nations of Anahuac, they urged, should make common cause in defense of their country; and they conjured them, by their common religion, not to allow the white men to escape from their hands; but to sacrifice them, at once, to their gods. These proposals were made at a solemn council, called to receive them.
There had, even before the arrival of the ambassadors, been a strong party in Tlascala who viewed the Spaniards, with hostility, as the authors of the heavy losses they had suffered; and as becoming, by their continued stay there, a burden to the state. The head of this party was the young chief Xicotencatl, who had led the Tlascalan armies in the desperate resistance they offered to the Spaniards, on their first coming. When the ambassadors had made their offers, he rose and urged his hearers to assent to the proposal; saying that it were better to unite with their kindred, and those of their own language, faith, and custom, than with these fierce strangers.
The young warriors enthusiastically agreed; but, happily for the Spaniards, the four great chiefs, one of whom was the father of Xicotencatl, were opposed to the proposal. Maxixca especially combated the idea.
"The Aztecs," he said, "are always false in speech, and false in heart. It is fear that drives them, now, to offer their friendship to the Tlascalans; and when the cause for fear has passed, they will again be hostile. What? Are we to sacrifice the white men to the gods--the men who have fought with us side by side against our enemies, and who are now our guests? Were we to act thus, it would be an act of the grossest perfidy."
Xicotencatl replied; but Maxixca, losing his temper, seized him and, with sudden violence, thrust him from the chamber. So unusual a step so astonished the assembly that it silenced all opposition, and the alliance with the Mexicans was unanimously rejected.
Confident now that the Tlascalans were to be trusted, Cortez sent out expeditions, composed of his own men and bodies of the allies, and inflicted terrible punishment on the districts where the isolated parties of Spaniards had been cut off and destroyed; and defeated the natives in several hardly fought battles, capturing their towns and enslaving the inhabitants.
Having thus restored the confidence of his followers and allies, he prepared for a forward movement. Martin Lopez, ship builder to the expedition, had escaped the slaughter on the causeway; and he now ordered him to build at Tlascala thirteen ships, which could be taken to pieces and carried on the shoulders of the Indians, to be launched on Lake Tezcuco. The sails, rigging, and ironwork were to be brought from the coast, where they had been stored since Cortez had sunk his ships.
The Tlascalans placed a great number of men at the ship builders' disposal. Timber was cut from the forest. Pitch, an article unknown to the natives, obtained from the pines. New arms were manufactured. Powder was made, with sulphur obtained from the volcanoes. And the work, heavy though it was, was rapidly brought to a conclusion.
While it was going on, however, a terrible scourge swept over the country. Smallpox, a disease hitherto unknown there, broke out on the seacoast and swept across Mexico, carrying off great numbers--among the victims being Maxixca, the faithful friend of the Spaniards; and Cuitlahua, Montezuma's successor.
The latter was succeeded by Guatimozin, nephew of the two last monarchs, who had married his cousin, one of Montezuma's daughters. Like Cuitlahua he was a gallant prince, and had distinguished himself greatly in the attacks on the Spaniards, in Mexico. He continued the preparations Cuitlahua had begun for the defense; but, like him, was greatly hampered by the fact that a large proportion of the tribes recently conquered by the Aztecs had seized the opportunity, caused by the confusion in the empire, to throw off their allegiance; the royal orders being really obeyed only by the population of the Valley of Mexico, itself.
Before starting on his march towards Mexico, Cortez permitted several of his companions, who were disinclined to face a renewal of the trials and hardships they had suffered, to leave; placing his best ship at their disposal. Their loss was more than made up by the capture of two vessels sent by Velasquez, who was ignorant of the fate which had befallen Narvaez; and who considered it certain that Cortez was a prisoner in his hands. The ships sailed into port, where the captains and crews were at once seized, and were then easily persuaded to join Cortez. Two ships fitted out by the Governor of Jamaica also put into port, to repair damages after a storm; and their crews were also persuaded, by the liberal promises of Cortez, to abandon their service and join him. He thus received a reinforcement of at least a hundred and fifty well-armed men, together with fifty horses.
But this was not the end of the good fortune of Cortez. A merchant ship, laden with arms and military stores, touched at Cuba; and the captain, hearing of the discoveries in Mexico, thought that he should find a good market there. He therefore sailed to Vera Cruz, where his ship and cargo were purchased by Cortez, and the crew swelled the force under him.
By Christmas everything was ready for the advance. The army now amounted to six hundred men, forty of whom were cavalry, with eighty musketeers and crossbow men. It had also nine cannon taken from the ships. The force of the native allies which joined them was estimated at from one hundred and ten thousand, to one hundred and fifty thousand; and consisted not only of the Tlascalan troops, but of those of Cholula, Tepeaca, and other neighboring towns; who, after their defeat by Cortez, had submitted themselves to the Spanish rule.
But Cortez had no idea of taking all these with him, as it would be difficult to obtain provisions for such a host; and he left them behind, to bring on the vessels when completed, and to aid in further operations. He himself marched with the Spaniards and a small body of allies, and reached Tezcuco without opposition. The prince whom Montezuma had appointed to succeed Cacama, fearing the vengeance of the population, had fled to Tlascala; but returning, in hopes of finding a party there in his favor, was seized and put to death by Coanaco, another brother, who had been recognized as king by the Tezcucans.
When the Spaniards approached the city, they found it almost entirely deserted, the inhabitants having fled across the lake to Mexico. Their ruler had accompanied them, and Cortez appointed another brother in his place. This prince lived but a few months, and was succeeded by another member of the royal house--the prince who had, during Cacama's lifetime, obtained a large portion of his dominion; and who proved a valiant and faithful ally of the Spaniards, in their struggle with his countrymen.
The Tezcucans gradually returned after Cortez had nominated a new sovereign, and Cortez at once set a large number of them to dig a canal from the town itself to the lake, so that the men putting together the ships could labor under his very eye.
Several of the cities round sent in to make their submission; and a week after his arrival Cortez marched, with a body of Spaniards and allies, against Iztapalapan, a town of fifty thousand inhabitants, lying near the narrow tongue of land dividing the great lake from that of Xochicalco.
The natives came out to meet them, and fought bravely, but were driven into the city. The greater part of those who could not escape were slaughtered. While engaged in the work of plunder, the Spaniards were alarmed by a rush of water; the natives having broken the bank of the great lake. The troops with the greatest difficulty escaped with their lives, many of the allies being drowned.
The fate of Iztapalapan excited consternation among the other cities, and many sent in to make their submission, among them Otompan and Chalco. Not only had the Mexican Empire fallen to pieces, by the detachment of its distant provinces; but even near home long smoldering rivalries broke into flame. The Aztecs were but a small portion, even of the people of the Valley of Mexico; and the greater portion of these were glad to take advantage of the distress of the capital to break up the union that had so long existed. Cortez, by promises and presents, assisted the work.
After some weeks' stay at Tezcuco, the news came that the ships were all completed, and ready to be carried down; and two hundred foot and fifteen horse, under the command of Sandoval, were sent to escort them. But scarcely had he reached the frontier of Tlascala than he saw a vast procession advancing. The ships had already been put together, and tried on a lake among the hills; and were now being brought down in pieces by an immense number of porters, with a great military escort. Sandoval sent the larger portion of the Indian escort home, but kept twenty thousand of the best warriors. After four days of painful labor, the host of porters and fighting men reached Tezcuco. It was, indeed, an immense undertaking that had been accomplished; for the whole of the wood and iron work, of thirteen ships, had to be carried for upwards of sixty miles, over a difficult and mountainous country.
A few days later, Cortez took half of his Spanish force and the whole of his allies, and started on an expedition to reconnoiter the capital, and to punish some of the towns which had returned insolent answers in reply to his summons.
The town of Xaltocan, standing on an island, was first attacked. The dike leading to it was found to be cut through; and the Spaniards, for a time, suffered greatly. They found a ford, however; reached the town, and put all who resisted to the sword.
Three other towns, which had been deserted by their inhabitants, were occupied and sacked. They then marched against Tlacopan and, after a battle outside the town, occupied the suburbs. Another hot fight was necessary before the town was fully taken.
Here the Spaniards halted for some days, fighting almost daily with the Aztecs. In one encounter, Cortez allowed himself to be decoyed on to the great causeway, upon which he had before suffered such disaster. When he was halfway across the Aztecs turned, reinforcements arrived from the city, swarms of canoes attacked the Spaniards in flank; and it was only after desperate fighting, and some loss, that they regained the mainland.
Having accomplished their object, the force returned to Tezcuco, greatly harassed on the march by the enemy. Other expeditions were undertaken. During these events the work of putting together the vessels was continued and, to the great satisfaction of the Spaniards, news reached them from the coast of the arrival of three ships, with reinforcements: two hundred men, seventy or eighty horses, arms, and ammunition.
When these reached Tezcuco, Cortez felt confident that he should now be able to overcome all opposition. On the fifth of April he again started on an expedition. Passing through some deep gorges, he attempted to carry a mountain fortress; but was repulsed, with loss, from the volleys of stones and rocks rolled down upon the assailants.
After several other battles they neared Xochimilco, one of the richest of the Aztec towns. Like Mexico, it stood in the water, but at a small distance from the edge of the lake. This was only captured after desperate fighting, Cortez himself having a narrow escape of his life. The next morning at dawn, great numbers of Aztecs landed from canoes, and fell upon the Spaniards; and it was only after a long and desperate struggle that the latter gained the day.
They now continued their march to Tlacopan, the enemy following closely, and striking whenever they saw an opportunity; and the troops were glad, indeed, when they again reached Tezcuco. By this time the canal was finished and the ships were put together; and after discovering and punishing another conspiracy against his life, Cortez gave orders for the fleet to advance. Solemn mass was held, and then the vessels, in the sight of an enormous concourse of people, dropped down the canal, one after the other, and reached the lake.
Cortez mustered his men, and found that he had eighty-seven horse; eight hundred and eighteen foot, of which one hundred and eighteen were musketeers or crossbow men; three large iron field pieces, and fifteen light brass guns. Three hundred of the men were told off to man the ships.
The Indian confederates arrived punctually: fifty thousand Tlascalans, and a vast number of levies from the other tribes.
The army was divided into three corps. One was to take up its post, under Alvarado, at Tlacopan. Another, under Olid, was to aid in capturing the causeway; while Sandoval had command of the third, whose movements were to be determined by circumstances. Cortez himself took charge of the fleet.
A quarrel arose between a Spanish soldier and a Tlascalan chief, who was a relation of Xicotencatl; who at once left the army, and started for Tlascala. He had always been bitterly hostile to the Spaniards; and Cortez saw that, unless the movement was stopped, it might become very serious. He sent a party of natives after him, with instructions to prevail upon him, if possible, to return. He refused to do so. Cortez dispatched a body of cavalry in pursuit, arrested him in Tlascala, brought him down to Tezcuco, and there hung him in the sight of his own countrymen.
The divisions of Alvarado and Olid met with no resistance in establishing themselves at Tlacopan. They cut the reservoir that supplied the city with fresh water, the great lake being salt. The next day the two divisions marched on to the causeway to make themselves masters, if possible, of the first bridge.
The natives pursued their former tactics, desperately defending barricades thrown across the causeway, and attacking the invaders with a crowd of missiles from canoes. After a long and obstinate fight, the Spaniards and their allies were obliged to fall back, with considerable loss; and Olid drew off with his division to his station commanding the other causeway.
Iztapalapan having been again occupied by the enemy, Sandoval's division attacked them by land; while Cortez, with his fleet, lay off the shore. After capturing the town, Cortez turned his attention to the canoes of the natives, which darkened the surface of the lake. At this moment a fresh breeze sprang up; and the ships, spreading their canvas, dashed amongst the canoes, overturning and destroying great numbers; while the cannon tore others to pieces, with discharges of bullets; and comparatively few succeeded in regaining the city.
It was now getting nearly dark, and the fleet coasted along the great southern causeway to the fort of Xoloc, where another branch of the causeway joined the main dike.
The fort was feebly garrisoned. Cortez landed his soldiers and carried it by storm. Here he established his headquarters, landing some of the cannon from the ships to strengthen the position.
He was now within half a league of the city, and two out of the three great approaches were already in his hands. Night and day the natives attacked the garrison; but the ships, and the guns in positions, repulsed their assaults.
After some days' delay, a simultaneous attack was made by the Spaniards. Two of the ships, one on each side of the causeway, advanced abreast of the army, sweeping the dike with their fire. The enemy were driven back; and Cortez, passing gap after gap, reached the island on which the city stood. Behind them, as they advanced, the native allies filled up the breaches, and made them practicable for artillery and cavalry; and as soon as the work was completed, the Spaniards who had already passed were reinforced by large numbers of their allies.
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{
"id": "19398"
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21
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: A Victim For The Gods.
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The street which the Spaniards entered, after leaving the causeway, intersected the city from north to south. It was broad and perfectly straight and, from the roofs of the houses which lined it, a storm of missiles was poured on the Spaniards, as they advanced. Cortez set the allies to work to level the houses, as fast as the Spaniards won their way along the street. This they did, until they reached the first canal. The bridge here had been broken down, and after the Indians had crossed, the temporary planks were pulled after them, and they joined their countrymen behind a solid rampart of stone, erected on the other side of the canal.
It was not until after two hours' hard fighting, and the use of artillery, that this obstacle was cleared away; and the Spaniards, wading across the canal, pressed forward without further resistance, until they reached the great square, on one side of which stood the palace they had so long occupied. The Aztecs--disheartened at the manner in which all the defenses on which they relied had been captured by the Spaniards, and by their presence in the heart of the city--for some time desisted from their efforts; but they were roused to fury, as a body of Spaniards rushed up the winding terraces to the summit of the great temple, and hurled the priests from its summit.
Then, with a yell of fury, they threw themselves upon their enemies. Their headlong rush swept the Spaniards back into the square, when they were attacked by bodies of natives, pouring down every street. For once the Spaniards lost their presence of mind, fell into disorder, and were swept before the torrent, down the street which they had just traversed.
In vain Cortez attempted to stem the stream. The panic spread to the allies, and the whole mass were flying before the natives; when a body of cavalry came up and plunged into the crowd. The natives were shaken by the appearance of the enemies they feared so much; and Cortez, taking advantage of the confusion, rallied his followers, and again drove the Aztecs back into the square.
Night was now at hand and, dragging off the cannon which had been abandoned in their flight, the force marched off in good order, though hotly pressed by the natives, and retired to Xoloc. Alvarado and Sandoval also succeeded in crossing their respective causeways, but neither of them could penetrate into the city.
The attack had failed, but it had strengthened the position of the Spaniards; for seeing the speedy manner in which they had overcome all the defenses erected by the Mexicans, many of the cities which had hitherto stood aloof now sent in their submission, and supplied levies to assist them in their work; while Ixtlilxochitl, who had now become Lord of Tezcuco, and was a strong adherent of the Spaniards, brought up a force of fifty thousand Tezcucans, who were divided among the three armies.
Another simultaneous attack was now made, the advance along the causeway being, as before, covered by the ships; but the enemy fought stoutly, and some hours elapsed before the Spaniards again entered the city. The advance was now more easy than on the previous occasion, owing to the destruction of the buildings bordering the streets. The natives, however, still fought with the greatest obstinacy; but the great square was at last reached.
Thinking to discourage the natives, by the destruction of some of the principal edifices, Cortez ordered the palace which had served as the former barracks to be set on fire, as also the house of birds adjoining Montezuma's palace, and those were soon a mass of flames. The Aztecs, however, were infuriated rather than intimidated; and the fight raged with greater fury than ever. Having accomplished his object, Cortez again gave the order to fall back and, covered by the cavalry, retired down the street; so desperately assailed, by the natives, that but few men reached the fort unwounded.
Day after day the same tactics were repeated, the Mexicans every night repairing the breaches cleared out every day by the Spanish allies. Cortez found it impossible to guard the causeway and prevent this, the soldiers being already overcome by the fatigue of their daily encounters. Alvarado's division, however, held at night the ground they won in the daytime; but the troops suffered dreadfully from the incessant toil, and from the rain, which poured down in torrents. The soldiers of Cortez fared little better, for the buildings in the fort of Xoloc afforded shelter but to few; and the rest had to sleep on the causeway in its rear, exposed to all the tempestuous weather.
Frequently, too, they were called up to battle; for the Aztec emperor, contrary to the usual practice of his countrymen, frequently attacked by night; often making simultaneous attacks on the three divisions on the causeways, while at the same moment troops from the neighboring towns attacked their camps in the rear. He did not content himself with open attacks, but resorted to stratagem. On one occasion he had a large number of canoes in ambuscade, among some tall reeds bordering the lake. Several large boats then rowed near the Spanish vessels. Believing that they were filled with provisions intended for the city, two of the smaller vessels pursued them. The Aztec boats made for the reeds, the Spaniards followed, and presently struck upon submerged timbers the Indians had driven in. They were instantly attacked by the whole fleet of canoes, most of the men were wounded, and several, including the two captains, slain, and one of the Spanish craft captured.
It was now three months since the siege had begun, and the attitude of the Mexicans was as bold and defiant as ever. Several attempts which Cortez had made to open negotiations with the young emperor had been received with scorn. It was certain that, sooner or later, famine would do its work; for the approaches to the city were all in the hands of the Spaniards, and as the towns of the lake were either friendly or overawed by the great army of their allies, even the canoes, which at first made their way in at night with provisions, had ceased to steal across in the darkness. The great native levies were of little use to the Spaniards in the absolute fighting, but they did good service by overawing the towns, making expeditions against the tribes that had not yet consented to throw in their lot with the invaders, and by sweeping in provisions from a wide extent of country.
But to wait until famine did its work little suited the spirit of the Spaniards. The process would assuredly be a long one, for men who fought so stoutly would resist starvation with equal tenacity; besides, the duration of the siege was already beginning to excite discontent among the allies, whose wars were generally of very short duration. The Spaniards, too, were suffering from severe illness brought on by fatigue, exposure, and hardship.
It was now determined to make a grand effort to obtain possession of the great market of Tlatelolco, which lay on the northwestern part of the city. Its possession would enable the force of Cortez to join hands with those of Alvarado and Sandoval; and the spacious market itself, with its halls and porticoes, would furnish accommodation for the army; and enable them to attack the city at close quarters, instead of having to fight their way, every day, along the causeway.
Sandoval was to join Alvarado, sending seventy picked troops to support Cortez. Advancing along the causeway, and supported not only by the ships, but by a countless host of canoes filled with the allies of the lake cities, who penetrated the canals, and caused confusion in the rear of the Aztecs, the division of Cortez cleared the suburbs of their opponents, and then advanced towards the square of Tlatelolco by three great streets.
Alderete commanded the force that advanced by the main central avenue. This was a raised causeway, with canals running on either side of the road. Tapia and a brother of Alvarado commanded one of the other columns, while Cortez led the third. A small body of cavalry, with three guns, remained in reserve in the great street leading to the causeway; and here the column were to rally, in case of disaster.
The three columns advanced simultaneously. The Spanish pressed the Aztecs back before them. Their allies filled up the canals as they took them, one by one. The Tlascalans stormed the houses, and attacked the enemy on their roofs; while the canoes engaged those of the Aztecs, and so prevented them from interfering with the men occupied in filling up the breaches. The parallel streets were near enough to each other for the Spaniards to hear the shouts of their companions in the other columns, and to know that all were gaining ground steadily.
The enemy in the streets fought with less obstinacy than usual; and Cortez, with his usual keen-sightedness, at once apprehended that the feebleness of the resistance indicated some device, and that the Aztecs were allowing them to advance, only to lead them into a trap.
He had received a message from Alderete saying that he was getting on fast, and that he was but a short distance from the great square. Fearing that this officer, eager to be the first to gain the marketplace, was not taking proper precautions to secure his retreat; Cortez, with a small body of troops, retraced his steps, and turned up the street by which Alderete's column had advanced. He had gone but a short distance, when he saw that his stringent orders had been neglected; for he came upon an opening some thirty feet wide, full of water at least twelve feet deep. A slight attempt, only, had been made to stop the gap; and stones and timber, lying by the side, showed that it had been abandoned as soon as commenced.
The general saw, too, that the road had been narrowed as it approached this point, and that the work had evidently been recently done. Much alarmed at the consequence of this neglect, he at once set his men to fill up the breach; but they had scarcely begun the operation when a terrific yell arose, drowning the mingled clamor of the distant conflict.
Alderete had, as Cortez supposed, pressed on the retreating Aztecs with too great eagerness. He had carried the barricades which defended the breach, and had given orders that the chasm should be filled up. But in their eagerness to be first in the square, the Spaniards had pressed on, none caring to stop to see that the allies carried out the order. So, taking position after position, they pressed on until they were close to the square.
Suddenly the horn of Guatimozin, the emperor, sent forth a piercing note from the summit of a temple. As if by magic, the retreating Aztecs turned and fell on their pursuers; while swarms of warriors from the adjoining streets, lanes, and corners attacked the advancing column.
Taken completely by surprise, bewildered by the suddenness and fury of the onslaught, appalled by the terrific war yells, smitten down by the rain of missiles from the Aztecs, the Spaniards fell into confusion, and were swept down the street like foam on the crest of a wave. In vain their leaders attempted to rally them. Their voices were drowned in the din, and their followers, panic stricken, now thought only of preserving their lives.
On they came, until they reached the edge of the cut. Here some plunged in, others were pushed in by the pressure from behind. Those who could swim were pulled down by their struggling comrades. Some got across and tried to climb the slippery side of the dike, but fell back and were seized by the Aztecs; whose canoes now dashed up, and added to the confusion by hurling a storm of missiles into the crowd.
Cortez, with his little party, kept his station on the other side of the breach. They were already surrounded by Aztecs, who had landed on the causeway behind them; but held their ground desperately, and endeavored, as far as possible, to assist their comrades to climb out of the water. Cortez was speedily recognized, and storms of missiles were poured upon him, but these glanced harmlessly from his helmet and armor. Six of the Aztecs threw themselves upon him together, and made a desperate effort to drag him into their boat. In the struggle he received a severe wound in the leg, and fell.
Olid, one of his followers, sprang to his rescue, severed the arm of one of the natives, and ran another through the body; and being joined by a comrade named Lerma, and by a Tlascalan chief, stood over the body of Cortez and drove off his foes, dispatching three more of his assailants; but Olid fell, mortally wounded, by the side of his leader.
Quinones, the captain of the guard, with several of his men now fought his way up, lifted Cortez from the water, and laid him on the road. One of his pages brought up his horse, but fell, wounded in the throat by a javelin. Guzman, the chamberlain, then seized the bridle, and held it while Cortez was helped into the saddle; but was himself seized by the Aztecs, and carried off in a canoe.
Cortez, wounded as he was, would still have fought on; but Quinones, taking his horse by the bridle, turned it to the rear, exclaiming that his leader's life was "too important to the army to be thrown away there!"
The mass of fugitives poured along the causeway. The road was soft, and was so cut up that it was knee deep in mud; and in some places the water of the canals beside it met across it. Those on the flanks were often forced, by the pressure, down the slippery sides; and were instantly captured and carried off by the canoes of the enemy. Cortez's standard bearer was among those who fell in the canal, but he succeeded in recovering his footing, and saved the standard.
At last the fugitives reached the spot where the cannon and cavalry had been placed in reserve. Here Cortez rallied them, and charged the Aztecs with the little body of horse, while the artillery opened a hot fire upon them. He then sent orders to the other two columns to fall back and, when these had rejoined him, the division retired, Cortez covering the movement with the cavalry.
As soon as they were freed from the city, Tapia was sent round on horseback to acquaint the other commanders of the failure. They had advanced at the same time as Cortez, and had on their side nearly gained the square; when they, too, were startled by the blast of Guatimozin's horn, and by the terrible yell that followed it. Then they heard the sound of battle, which had before been clearly audible, roll away in the distance; and knew that the division of Cortez had been driven back.
In a short time the attack upon themselves increased in fury, as the troops who had been engaged with Cortez returned and joined in the attack upon them. Two or three bloody heads were thrown among them, with shouts of "Malinzin!"
Although Sandoval and Alvarado did not credit the death of their commander, they felt that it was useless to persevere, and indeed were unable to withstand the furious assaults of the Aztecs. With great difficulty they drew off their troops to the entrenchment on the causeway, and here the guns of the ships, sweeping the road, drove back their assailants. The greatest anxiety prevailed as to the fate of Cortez, until Tapia arrived, bleeding from several wounds, which he had received from parties of men whom Guatimozin had stationed to interrupt the communication between the two camps.
Sandoval at once rode round. He, too, was attacked on the road; but his armor, and that of his horse protected him from the missiles showered upon them. On arriving at the camp, he found the troops much dispirited. Numbers had been killed and wounded, and no less than sixty-two Spaniards, with a multitude of allies, had fallen into the hands of the enemy. Indeed, the column around Alderete had been almost entirely destroyed, and two guns and seven horses had been lost.
Cortez explained to his follower the cause of the disaster, and told Sandoval that, as he should be unable to take the field for a few days, he must take his place, and watch over the safety of the camps.
Roger Hawkshaw had borne his full share in the desperate conflicts that had taken place. In the previous combats he had fought only to preserve his own life, but now he was eager for the fray. His friend Cuitcatl and his promised bride were prisoners in Mexico, and he fought now to deliver them. It was nearly a year from the time when he had first retreated along the fatal causeway; and in that time his frame had broadened out, and his strength increased; and so terrible were the blows he dealt that Cortez, himself, had several times spoken to him in terms of approval of his valor, and had appointed him to be one of his own bodyguard. He had stood beside him at the edge of the breach, and had done good service there.
"You fight like a paladin," Cortez said, as Roger cut down three natives who had rushed upon him; "but see, Sancho, put up your sword for a minute, and take up that pike. If you hand the end to those poor fellows in the water, your strength will be sufficient to haul them up."
Roger at once set to, at the work of saving life, and dragged more than a score of men who would otherwise have been drowned. He heard the cry which was raised, when Cortez was attacked; and throwing down his pike and drawing his sword, turned to rush to his assistance; but at this moment two Mexicans threw themselves upon him, his foot slipped in the mud, and in another moment he and his two assailants were rolling down the deep bank into the water.
With a mighty effort, he freed himself from their grasp and, gaining the bank, tried to climb up; but a canoe dashed up alongside, a dozen Mexicans threw themselves upon him, and with a triumphant shout drew him into the boat, which at once paddled off from the scene of conflict.
Roger, as he lay at the bottom of the canoe, felt that all hope was over. He knew that the Aztecs never spared a captive taken in war, and that all who fell into their hands were destined for the altars of their gods. He regretted deeply that he had not fallen in battle; but determined that, at any rate, he would not die tamely; and resolved that, rather than be slaughtered in cold blood on the altar, when the time came, he would offer so desperate a resistance that they would be forced to kill him.
Passing along several canals, the canoe stopped at some stairs. Roger was taken out, and led through a shouting crowd to a great temple, where he was thrust into a prison room, already occupied by several Spaniards. Their numbers increased, until they amounted to twenty.
Few words were spoken among the prisoners. Their arms were free, but their legs firmly secured with ropes; and ten armed Aztecs kept watch over them, to see that they made no attempt to unfasten their bonds.
One of the prisoners Roger saw, to his regret, was his friend Juan. He was severely wounded in several places; as indeed was Roger himself, although in the excitement of the battle he had scarce noticed it.
"Well, lad!" the old soldier said. "This is a bad ending of our gold seeking. Who would have thought that it was to be one's lot, first to be murdered on the altars of a hideous god, and then to furnish a meal to a race of savages?"
"The furnishing the meal does not trouble me," Roger replied. "Whether one is drowned and eaten by fishes, or killed and eaten by Aztecs, makes, as far as I can see, but little difference to one. However, I don't quite make up my mind to the worst yet, Juan. They must have captured a great number of us, for I saw many carried off who are not here; besides a multitude of Tlascalans and our other allies. I do not suppose they will sacrifice us all at once, but are likely to take so many a day. In that case, we may have the luck to be among the last; and before our turn comes, the Spaniards may be masters of the town."
Juan shook his head.
"It is just as well to hope, lad; but I think the chances are next to nothing. Even if Cortez himself gets out safe, and the troops draw off without much further loss, it will be some days before they will attack again, after such a maiming as we got, this time. Even then their chances of success will be no better than they were today; worse, in fact, for we have lost something like a sixth of our force, beside what may have fallen in the attack from the other side; put it at a quarter, altogether. Our natives will be dispirited by their defeat today, and the Aztecs will have gained in confidence.
"By Saint James, but those fellows fight well! Who would have thought, when we saw them bowing and smiling when we first arrived in the city, and submitting so meekly to everything, that they could fight like fiends? Never did I see men so reckless of life.
"Pedro has fallen. I loved him as a son. But far better dead than here."
"I am sorry, indeed, to hear that he has fallen, Juan. I feared that he had, for he would not have let you be captured, had he been alive.
"I don't give up all hope for ourselves. The Mexicans fight like heroes, but in the end we must win, in spite of their valor. Even if we do not take the town by storm, which I don't think we ever should do, if it were provisioned, we shall take it by hunger. They must be well-nigh starving now. In another month there will not be a soul alive in the city.
"You do not think there is any chance of our making our escape?"
"Not unless wings could sprout out from our shoulders," Juan said, "and we could fly through the air. You may be sure these fellows will keep too sharp a lookout upon us to give us the shadow of a chance; besides, if we were to get out, we could not go on foot without being detected.
"You might manage, lad, with a dark night to hide your color, and with the aid of a native dress, for you can speak their tongue; but as for me, the idea is hopeless, and not to be thought of. No, no, lad, I do not delude myself. My time has come; and I shall bear it, I hope, like a man, and a Christian."
From time to time, Aztecs came in to see that the prisoners were safe. From their conversation with the guards, Roger gathered that the attack had everywhere failed, and that the Spaniards had retired to their camps.
Late in the afternoon some priests entered. Two of the prisoners were selected by them, their bonds cut, and they were taken away. Soon afterwards, the sound of the great war drum reverberated through the city.
The Spaniards in their camps started to arms, on hearing the sound; but they were not long in understanding its meaning, for from their camps they beheld a great procession winding up the principal pyramid. Alvarado's camp, which was the nearest to the city, was a short mile away from the temple; and in the clear evening air the troops could see that there were five or six white figures among them.
As usual, the victims were decorated with plumes of feathers, to do honor to their own sacrifice. They were driven along with blows and, when they reached the summit of the temple, were seized and thrown, one by one, upon their backs upon the sacrificial stone, which was convex, so as to give a curve to their bodies. The principal priest then, with a sharp stone knife, cut through the skin and flesh between two of the ribs and, plunging his hand into the orifice, dragged out the heart, which he presented to the figure of the god.
The sight, distant as it was, excited the Spaniards to the verge of madness; and if it had not been for their officers, they would have seized their weapons and rushed forward again to the attack, to avenge the murder of their comrades.
The feelings of the captives, as they heard the sound of the drums, the shouts of the natives, and once or twice caught the scream of agony of their comrades, were terrible. This was the fate that they, too, were to undergo; and men who had, a hundred times, looked death in battle in the face, shuddered and trembled at their approaching doom.
Each day two of their number were taken, and the same terrible scene was gone through. Roger was rather surprised that he himself was not one of the first selected, as his height and figure made him specially conspicuous among his comrades; but he supposed that he was being one of those reserved for some special festival. Whatever the famine might be in the city, the captives were well fed; for it was a point of honor, among the Aztecs, that all victims offered to the gods should be in good health and condition.
The guards were changed every six hours, and on the third day, in the officer over the relief, Roger recognized, to his surprise and delight, his friend Bathalda. The latter, as he entered, made a significant motion to Roger, as he caught his eye, to make no sign that he recognized him.
The Aztecs, as usual, sat down in groups, chatting. They had no fear whatever of the prisoners attempting to escape in the daytime, and it was only at night that they exercised any special vigilance in seeing that they did not attempt to unloose their bonds. Bathalda presently sauntered up into the corner in which Roger was sitting.
"How are my friends?" the latter asked, in a low voice.
"Well," Bathalda replied. "Cuitcatl explained to the young emperor the circumstances under which he came to know and assist you, and was at once restored to favor, and now commands a large body of troops here. I have not seen the princess. She is at the palace. Cuitcatl bade me tell you that they are working for you, and will rescue you before the time comes for your sacrifice; but at present the watch is too strict."
"But I may be chosen, any day," Roger said.
Bathalda shook his head.
"Cuitcatl has bribed the priests who choose the victims to leave you until the last; so you need not feel uneasiness on that score. Be patient and watchful. If any of your guard approach you and say, 'The time is at hand,' you will know that he is a friend. Act as he tells you. I dare not say more, now."
Ten days passed. Juan had gone, and Roger had been much moved at parting with him--more so, indeed, than the old soldier himself, who had kept up firmly, and was prepared to meet his fate with contempt for his enemies, in the assurance that his death would be terribly avenged.
Bathalda had not reappeared. As the number of prisoners had decreased, the guard had been diminished; and as there now only remained Roger and one other, and both were still bound, a single Aztec relieved the two who had, the night before, kept guard.
He stood, indifferently gazing through the loophole, until Roger's companion fell asleep. Then he approached him and said: "The time is at hand. Tomorrow the other will be taken. The number will be made up from the other prisons. At night Cuitcatl will be outside. The door here will not be bolted. You will have but one man to watch you; but we know not whom he may be, and may not be able to arrange with him. If we do, he will give you the password. If not, you must deal with him. The man who will follow me is in the secret. You must unfasten your ropes while he is here, and he will aid you to do them up again, so that, while to the eye they will seem secure, they can be shaken off instantly.
"Bathalda and another will accompany you. I do not know who the other is; but I was told that you would understand."
That other Roger felt sure must be Amenche; and his heart beat hotly, at the thought that his dear princess would share his flight.
The hours passed quickly. The next day the last Spaniard was taken; and no sooner had he been forced, struggling and resisting, from the chamber; than the guard who, since he had taken up his post four hours before, had made no sign to Roger, gave the password agreed upon. The latter rose to his feet and, with the aid of the native, unfastened the cords that bound his ankles together.
For half an hour he paced up and down the chamber, to restore the circulation to his feet. Then the guard replaced the cords, but did it in such a way that, though they seemed as tight and secure as before, they would at a slight effort fall off, and leave him free.
At eight o'clock in the evening the guard was relieved. He had told Roger that he was to listen for the cry of an owl outside, twice repeated; and that upon hearing this, he would know that his friends were without. Roger listened anxiously for the password from his new guard; but as it did not come, he concluded that Cuitcatl had not been able to bribe him, and that he must himself overpower the man.
The Aztec placed himself at the loophole, and stood looking out; turning, from time to time, to see by the light of the torch, which was fixed close to where Roger was lying, that he was making no attempt to release himself from his bonds.
It was not until nearly midnight that Roger heard the expected signal. No sooner was the second call given, than he pulled the knot which kept the cords together, raised himself noiselessly to his feet, and sprang upon the Aztec. Taken by surprise, the man was no more than a child in Roger's strong grasp. In a moment he was thrown down, his cloth was twisted round his mouth, so as to prevent any cry from escaping him, and his arms were bound behind him with Roger's rope.
Roger then took his sword and javelin, and went to the door. As he had been told would be the case, the outer bolts were unfastened. Passing along a passage, he came to the outside gate. This was securely fastened, but Roger had no difficulty in scaling the roof of a building leaning against the outer wall; and on reaching this, he pulled himself up and dropped down into the street beyond.
Three persons were standing at the gate, and he at once made towards them. One ran forward with a little cry, and threw herself into his arms. The others were, as he had expected, Cuitcatl and Bathalda. The former saluted him warmly.
"Thank the gods you are free, Roger," he said. "I have a canoe close at hand for you. Bathalda will accompany you and the princess. I cannot leave. I am an Aztec, and shall fight until the last, with our brave young emperor."
"I hope, Cuitcatl, that when the resistance is over--as it must be before long, for I know from the talk of the guards that famine is among you, and that hundreds are dying daily--I hope that I may be able to aid you, as you are aiding me."
"I care not to live," Cuitcatl said. "The empire is lost."
"But there is no dishonor in that," Roger replied. "No men could defend themselves more bravely than you have done, and there is no disgrace in being vanquished by superior arms. I trust that you may live, and be happy, yet."
"Let us not stand here talking," the young cazique said. "It is not as it was before. Then you might walk through the city at midnight, without meeting with a single person. We sleep no longer now, but make nightly attacks on the Spaniards; and at any moment bodies of troops may come along."
The little party moved forward, and in a minute descended the steps. Bathalda took his place in a small canoe lying there.
"Here is a weapon which will suit you better than that sword and javelin," he said, handing him a war club, a heavy weapon, with pieces of sharp-pointed obsidian fixed in it.
Roger helped Amenche into the canoe, wrung Cuitcatl warmly by the hand, and then stepped in.
"Go," the latter exclaimed. "I can hear troops approaching."
So saying, he bounded swiftly away. Bathalda sat listening for a moment, to discover the direction from which the troops were coming. As soon as he made out the soft tread of the shoeless feet, he dipped his paddle in the water, and the boat glided noiselessly away.
It was not long before they emerged from the narrow water way on to the lake; and then the boat's head was turned in the direction in which lay the Tlacopan causeway. Presently Amenche, who had been sitting nestled close to Roger--too happy even to speak--sat up and said: "Hush!"
Bathalda ceased rowing.
"There is a large canoe coming up behind us," he said, listening intently. "I can hear others on the lake, beyond us."
"We had better make into the shore again," Roger said, "and let them pass us."
The canoe, however, was not very far behind; and those on board caught sight of the little craft, as she rowed in towards shore. It was unusual to see so small a boat at night. The idea that it might contain a spy occurred to them, and they shouted to them to stop.
Bathalda exerted himself to the utmost, but the canoe came rapidly up to them. As the command to stop was again disregarded, a volley of javelins was discharged.
"We cannot escape," Bathalda said. "They will be upon us, before we can land."
"Cease rowing," Roger said.
"Amenche, lie still, dear, at the bottom of the boat. I will deal with them."
Seeing that the oarsmen had stopped paddling, the volley of javelins ceased; and the canoe, which contained some twenty men, ran alongside.
As she did so, Roger sprang on board her. Three or four of the natives were struck down in an instant, with his terrible weapon. The others, as soon as they recovered from their astonishment, rose from their seats and attacked him. Their numbers were but of slight avail. Standing in the bow of the boat, and swinging his weapon round his head, Roger kept them off; beating down one, each time his weapon fell. In vain they tried to close with him. His great size, and the suddenness with which he had attacked them, acted upon their superstitious fears. They knew not what sort of being it was with whom they had to deal, and the terrible strength displayed, and the instant fate that fell on all who approached him, appalled them.
Roger soon took the offensive and, making his way along the boat, drove them back before him. At last, when more than half their number had fallen, the rest sprang overboard and swam to the shore. Roger had been wounded by three or four spear thrusts, but these had been too hastily given to penetrate very deeply.
"I am unhurt, Amenche," he said, making his way forward again, and stepping into the canoe.
There was no reply. He stooped over, as she lay quietly there.
"She has fainted," he said.
"Row on, Bathalda. You had best give me the other paddle. I can hear boats coming in this direction. No doubt they heard the yells.
"Skirt along the shore. We shall be unseen, close in; and if they approach us, can take refuge in a canal."
But they passed along unnoticed. When they caught sight of the causeway, stretching away dimly in front of them, they again rowed out into the lake and, making a long circuit to avoid the canoes attacking Xoloc, the guns of which were firing hotly, came down on the causeway again in its rear.
They were hailed as they approached, for the Spaniards were all under arms. Roger shouted that he was a friend, who had escaped from the prison; and the Spaniards, in return, gave a shout of welcome. In another two minutes, the canoe lay alongside the causeway.
Bathalda sprang on shore, and held the canoe while Roger lifted Amenche up, and stepped out. A dozen hands were held out to assist him to climb the slippery bank.
His figure was known by them all. Many exclamations of welcome greeted him, and many were the inquiries as to the other captives.
"I will tell you all about it, directly. Bring the torch a little closer. I have a lady here who has fainted. We were attacked as we came out. The fight was a sharp one, and has scared her."
A soldier brought a torch and, as he did so, Roger uttered a loud cry. Amenche's face was bloodless, and her eyes were closed. But it was not this that had caused Roger's cry. There was a dark stain on her white dress, and in its center the feathered head of an arrow. While Bathalda and Roger had escaped the missiles, with which those in the boat heralded their attack; an arrow had struck Amenche, as she turned, when Roger sprang on board.
So great was Roger's horror that he reeled, and would have fallen, had not the soldiers standing round supported him.
"I think that she has but fainted from loss of blood," Bathalda said; and Roger, refusing all assistance, carried Amenche to the fort through the ranks of the Spaniards, who were engaged hotly with their assailants in the canoes.
He bore her, at once, to the chamber occupied by Marina. She was up and dressed, for the attack was a hot one, and there was no sleep in Xoloc. She uttered a cry of welcome, and gladness, as Roger entered.
"I have escaped, Malinche," he said; "but I fear that she has died in saving me. I have brought her to you, as you are the only woman here."
Marina took the girl tenderly, and laid her on a couch.
"I will see to her," she said, softly. "Leave her to me, Roger."
As Roger, blinded with tears, left the room, an officer met him at the door, and told him that Cortez had just heard of his arrival, and desired his presence. The general received him with great kindness.
"It is something to see one of my comrades back again, Sancho," he said. "I hear how sad a misfortune has befallen you; for I suppose the lady you brought ashore was she of whom Marina spoke to me. She told me that she did not give up all hope that you might return; for that the princess whom you loved was in the city, and would, she was sure, do all that she could to save your life."
"She did so, General," Roger said; "and I fear at the cost of her own--she and a noble young cazique, who was a brother to me, when I was living at Tezcuco."
"I will not trouble you now with questions," Cortez said; "but tell me--do you know whether any of the other prisoners are alive? Every evening we have marked that terrible procession to the summit of the temple. Fifty-eight have been sacrificed, but we know not exactly how many more remain; being ignorant which of our comrades fell, and which were captured."
"I cannot tell," Roger replied. "I was the only one left, out of twenty who were in prison together. If they were taken in the same proportion from the other prisons, there can be but a few remaining now. I was set aside until the last, because the priest who had daily chosen out the victims had been bribed by my friend Cuitcatl."
Roger hastened away, as soon as Cortez dismissed him, and hurried back to Malinche's apartment. Her Mexican attendant, who was standing outside the door, opened it when she saw him approaching; and as she came up Malinche stole out, with her finger on her lips.
"We have taken out the arrow," she said. "She is still insensible; but the leech thinks that it is from loss of blood, and hopes that no vital point has been injured. More than that he cannot say, at present.
"You had best have your own wounds attended to, now. I will have a pile of rugs laid for you, in this little room to the left; and will let you know if any change takes place."
"Do you think that there is any hope, Malinche?"
Malinche shook her head.
"I know not, Roger. I have already sent off to the mainland, to fetch a leech famous for his skill in the use of herbs. Our people have many simples of which you know nothing in Europe, and they are very skillful in the treatment of wounds--much more so, I think, than the white men."
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After having had his wounds dressed, Roger threw himself down upon the bed that had been prepared for him, and lay tossing for hours. Hitherto he had believed, and had often reproached himself for it, that he had not loved Amenche as she had loved him. She had loved him with the passion and devotion of the people of her race, and it was no figure of speech when she said that she was ready to give her life for him.
Roger knew that, until lately, his love had been poor by the side of hers. From the time he had sailed from England, to his first meeting with her, he had pictured to himself that some day, when he came to command a ship of his own, he would marry his cousin, if she had borne him in mind since he parted with her on Plymouth Hoe. This dream had faded away, from the time he had first met Amenche; and when Cacama had proposed the marriage to him, he had accepted the offer gladly. His chance of ever leaving the country, at that time, seemed slight; and he felt sure that he should be happy with Amenche. Since that time, the girl's frank expression of her love for him, her tender devotion, and her willingness to sacrifice country, and people, and all, to throw in her lot with him, had greatly heightened the feeling he had towards her; and he had come to love her truly; but still, perhaps, rather with the calm earnest affection of a brother, than the passionate devotion of a lover.
But now he knew that she had his whole heart. If she died, it seemed of little consequence to him what became of his life. It was for his sake that she had risked everything, had left all--friends and home and country--and he felt that he would gladly die with her.
Morning was breaking before Malinche came into his room.
"She is sensible," she said, "and my countryman, who is with her, thinks that she will live."
The relief was so great that Roger burst into tears.
"Come with me," Malinche said, taking his hand. "We do not think she knows what has happened, but she looks anxiously about the room. She is very, very weak; but the leech thinks that if she sees you, and knows that you are safe and well, it will rouse her and put her in the way of recovery. You must not talk to her, or excite her in any way."
Roger followed Malinche into her room. Amenche was lying, without a vestige of color on her face, and with her eyes closed and her breathing so faint that Roger, as he looked at her, thought that she was dead.
"Take her hand and kneel down beside her," Malinche whispered.
Roger took the girl's hand. As he did so, a slight tremor ran through her, as if she recognized his touch. Then her eyes opened.
"Amenche, my darling, do you know me?" Roger said, as he stooped his face close to hers.
Her face brightened suddenly, and a look of intense happiness came into her eyes.
"O Roger!" she whispered; "I dreamed that they had killed you."
"I am safe and well, as you see," he said. "They have hurt you, darling; but you will get better, and we shall be happy together. You must not talk, but I may stay by you, if you will keep quiet.
"Drink this first," and he handed to her a cup that the Mexican doctor held out to him; and placing his arm under Amenche's head, raised it and poured the liquid between her lips.
Then he laid her head down again on the pillow and, kneeling beside her, held her hand in his.
She lay looking up into his face, with an expression of quiet happiness, occasionally murmuring, "Dear Roger."
Presently her eyelids drooped, and in a few minutes her regular breathing showed that she was asleep.
The Mexican doctor placed another cup of medicine within Roger's reach, and murmured in his ear, "I think that she will do now. Give her this when she awakes. I shall be within call, if I am wanted."
Amenche slept for some hours, and Roger, overcome by want of sleep, and from the anxiety through which he had passed, dropped off many times into short dozes.
He woke from one of these at a slight movement of Amenche's hand, and opened his eyes at the moment that she was opening hers.
"What has happened, Roger? And where am I?" she asked, in wonder.
"First drink this medicine, and then I will tell you," he said. "You remember, dear, we were in the boat together, and we were attacked. An arrow struck you, but I knew nothing about it until I had reached the causeway, and found you senseless, and brought you here to Malinche's room; and she and one of the doctors of your country dressed your wound, and now you have been sleeping quietly for some hours."
"Oh yes," she said, "I remember now. I was struck with an arrow. It was a sharp pain, but I did not cry out; for you had need of all your strength and vigor. I lay there quietly, and heard the din of fighting; and at last, when I knew that you had conquered, I felt a faintness stealing over me, and thought that I was dying; and then I remember nothing more, only it seemed that, in my dreams, you came to me and knelt by the side of me and kissed me; and now I know that that part is true, and I have been having such happy dreams, ever since.
"But why should I lie here? Cannot I get up?"
"No, dear. You are weak from loss of blood, and quiet is necessary. Lie here a minute. I will fetch the leech in, to see how you are."
The Mexican was sleeping on some mats outside the door. He at once came in and, after examining Amenche, pronounced her decidedly better. Malinche, who had given orders that she was to be informed as soon as the princess was awake, came in a minute or two; and a consultation was held, when it was decided that Amenche should at once be taken from the fort, which was crowded with soldiers, as well as exposed to the din and turmoil of the night attacks.
Malinche went out and soon returned, saying that she had spoken to one of the Tezcucan caziques in alliance with the Spaniards. He had at once offered to receive Amenche at his palace, which was situate but three miles from the end of the causeway.
"I cannot leave Roger again," the princess said, when she understood what was proposed.
"There is no thought of your leaving him," Malinche said, kindly. "Roger is to accompany you. He needs rest and peace almost as much as you do. Besides, he has been seriously wounded, though he makes light of it.
"The cazique has sent off a messenger for a party of his people to meet you. A boat will be in readiness to take you across the lake, at sunset. You will be carried in litters from the landing place to his palace."
This programme was carried out and, by nine o'clock that evening, Roger and Amenche were both settled in luxurious apartments in the cazique's palace.
Cortez, now recovered from his wounds, prepared for a fresh advance; which was this time to be conducted in a different manner. Against so stubborn and active a foe the advance must be irresistible, steady, and continued. In future, no step backward was to be taken. Every breach, every canal, was to be filled up so firmly and solidly that it could never again be disturbed; and for this purpose every building--whether a private house, temple, or palace--was to be demolished. It was with the greatest reluctance that Cortez arrived at this determination. He would fain have saved the city intact, as the most glorious trophy of his success; but his experience showed him that with every house a fortress, every street cut up by canals, it was hopeless to expect to conquer it.
The Indian allies heard his intention with the greatest satisfaction, for there was ever in their mind the dread that, should the white men depart, the Aztecs would take a terrible revenge upon their rebellious subjects. Enormous numbers of men were assembled, and provided with implements for the work. This was steadily carried out, until the whole of the suburbs were leveled, and a wide space round the city left open for the maneuvers of the cavalry and the play of the artillery.
Before making the last attack, Cortez tried once more to persuade the emperor to yield; and sent three Aztec nobles, who had been captured in one of the late fights, to bear a message to him. He told Guatimozin that he and his people had done all that brave men could, and that there remained no hope, no chance, of escape. Their provisions were exhausted. Their communications cut off. Their vassals had deserted them, and the nations of Anahuac were banded against them. He prayed him, therefore, to have compassion on his brave subjects, who were daily perishing before his eyes, and on the fair city now fast crumbling into ruins. He begged him to acknowledge his allegiance to the sovereign of Spain; in which case he should be confirmed in his authority, and the persons, the property, and all the rights of the Aztecs should be respected.
The young monarch would have instantly refused the terms, but he called a council to deliberate upon them. Many would have accepted them, but the priests threw all their influence in the scale against it; reminding the king of the fate of Montezuma, after all his hospitality to the Whites, of the seizure and imprisonment of Cacama, of the massacre of the nobles, of the profanation of the temple, and of the insatiable greed that had stripped the country of its treasures.
The answer to the Spaniards was given in the form of a tremendous sortie along each causeway; but the guns of the Spanish batteries and ships drove the assailants back, and the operations of destruction went on. Day by day the army of workers leveled the houses and filled the canals, although the Mexicans made incessant attacks upon the troops who covered the workmen. For several weeks the work continued, while the wretched inhabitants were fast wasting away with hunger. All the food stored up had long since been consumed, and the population reduced to feed on roots dug up in the gardens, on the bark of trees, leaves, and grass, and on such rats, mice, and lizards as they could capture.
The houses, as the besiegers advanced, were found to be full of dead; while in some lay men, women, and children in the last stage of famine. And yet, weakened and suffering as they were, the Aztecs maintained their resolution, rejecting every overture of Cortez.
At last the division of Alvarado cleared its way into the great square, and a party, mounting the great temple where so many of their comrades had been massacred, defeated the Aztecs who guarded the position, slaughtered the priests, and set fire to the sanctuary; and the next day the division of Cortez won their way to the same spot, and joined that of Alvarado.
Seven-eighths of the city was now destroyed; and with the exception of the king's palace and a few temples, all the buildings that had, when they first saw it, so excited the admiration of the Spaniards, and had made the city one of the loveliest in the world, had been leveled.
In the portion that remained the whole of the Aztec population were crowded. Their number was still vast, for before the siege began the people from many of the surrounding cities had flocked into the capital. Pestilence was aiding famine in its work; and the Spanish writers say that "as the troops advanced, the bodies lay so thick that it was impossible to walk without treading on them."
Again and again Cortez endeavored to negotiate with the emperor. Although so reduced by weakness that they could scarce keep their feet, the Aztecs maintained their defiant attitude, and the advance of the allies recommenced. The Aztecs fought as bravely as ever; but they were so weakened that their missiles were no longer dangerous, and their arms could scarce lift their weapons.
It was a dreadful carnage. The confederates, panting with hatred of the race that had subdued and so long humiliated them, showed no pity; and even when Cortez ordered that quarter should be shown to all who asked it, the allies refused to be checked, and the work of slaughter went on until the Spanish trumpets sounded a retreat.
During that day, alone, it was calculated that forty thousand persons had fallen. That night a mournful stillness reigned over the city. In silent despair, and yet with no thought of surrender, the Aztecs awaited their fate.
The next morning, August 15th, 1521, the troops were formed up again; but before ordering the advance Cortez obtained an interview with some of the principal chiefs, and persuaded them to see the emperor, and try to induce him to surrender; but the answer came that Guatimozin was ready to die where he was, and would hold no parley with the Spanish commander. Cortez still postponed the assault for several hours.
Then, finding delay unavailing, he reluctantly gave the order for the attack to recommence. As upon the previous day it was a mere slaughter. Many of the Aztecs sought to fly in canoes, but these were cut off by the fleet.
Presently, however, while the butchery was still going on, the welcome news was brought that Guatimozin himself had been captured by one of the vessels. With him was his wife, the beautiful Princess Tecuichpo, a daughter of Montezuma; and twenty nobles of high rank. The news of his capture spread rapidly through the fleet and city, and the feeble resistance the Aztecs still offered ceased at once.
Guatimozin was brought before Cortez, and behaved with a dignity and calmness that excited the admiration and respect of the general and his followers. The next morning, at the emperor's request, Cortez gave permission for all the survivors of the siege to leave the town; and issued strict orders, both to the Spaniards and their savage allies, that no insult or injury should be offered to them. For three days sad processions of men, women, and children--worn out with fatigue, wasted with fever and hunger, and in many cases scarred with wounds--made their way along the causeways. The number of men, alone, was variously estimated at from thirty to seventy thousand.
The losses during the siege were also placed at varying figures by contemporary writers. The lowest estimate was one hundred and twenty thousand, while some writers place it at double that amount. The higher figures probably approximate most nearly to the truth, for the population of the city, in itself very large, was enormously swelled by the vast number of persons from all the surrounding cities, who took refuge there at the approach of the Spaniards.
The Spanish loss was comparatively small, the larger portion of it being incurred upon the day of the destruction of Alderete's column. The loss of the allies, however, was very large; as they were not provided, as were the Spaniards, with armor which defied the missiles of the enemy. Of the Tezcucans, alone, it is said that thirty thousand perished.
The amount of booty taken in the city was comparatively small, and the army was bitterly disappointed at the poor reward which it reaped for its labors and sacrifices. There can be no doubt that the Aztec treasures were removed and buried, before the approach of the Spaniards to the city. Indeed, during the siege the Aztecs constantly taunted them with shouts that, even if they ever took the city, they would find no gold there to reward their efforts.
The defense of the city of Mexico has been frequently likened to that of Jerusalem against Titus. In each case a vast population, ignorant of the arts of war, resisted with heroic constancy the efforts of a civilized enemy, and succumbed to hunger and disease rather than to the foe.
The fate of the Aztecs befell them because, while a conquering people, they had enslaved and tyrannized over the nations they subdued; extending to them no rights or privileges, but using them simply as means of supplying the pomp and luxury of the capital, and of providing men for its wars. Even the cities of the valley, the near neighbors of Mexico, were kept in a galling state of dependence; and the result was that the whole of the Aztec Empire broke up at once, and fell upon its oppressors as soon as the coming of the Spaniards afforded them the opportunity for retaliation and revenge. Had it not been for this, it would have needed a force many times as numerous as that of Cortez to conquer an empire so extensive and populous, and composed of peoples so brave and fearless of death.
Terrible as the destruction of life was, in the capture of Mexico, the Spaniards were not open to blame for it; except in the massacre of the nobles, for which conduct Cortez was in no way responsible. The war was not conducted with the cruelty that too often distinguished the warfare of the Spaniards. Cortez had certainly no desire to destroy the beautiful capital of the country he had conquered for Spain. The prisoners taken during the siege, and the people who came out and surrendered, were always treated with kindness, even when the Spaniards were maddened by the sight of the daily sacrifices of their countrymen by the Aztecs. Again and again, during the siege, Cortez endeavored to induce the enemy to come to terms; and after the fighting was over, the whole of the survivors were permitted to depart unharmed.
A fortnight after the fall of Mexico, Amenche and Roger were both convalescent. Amenche's wound had, after the first day, caused but little anxiety. She had fainted from loss of blood, and from the effects of the long strain which she had undergone, from the time that she had heard that Roger was a captive in the hands of the Mexicans, and destined for sacrifice at the temple. Under the influence, then, of happiness; and of the care and attention she received; she was, in two or three days, well enough to get up and go into the adjoining room, and sit by the couch of Roger; who was prostrated by fever, the result of imprisonment, anxiety, and his wounds. For a time his life was in danger; but after the crisis had passed, he too recovered rapidly.
Malinche came several times to see them, and a warm affection sprang up between her and Amenche.
"What do you mean to do, Roger?" she asked him one day, when she found him alone.
"I mean to marry Amenche, at once," he said; "and to go back to Europe, if possible, without delay."
"I have managed that for you," Malinche said. "I spoke to Cortez yesterday. The city cannot resist many days longer, and after that we hope that there will be no more fighting. At any rate, I told him that you were so shaken from what you had gone through, it would be a long time before you would be fit to carry arms again; and that you desired greatly to go to Europe, for a time; and he has consented that you shall go down to the coast with the first convoy of wounded, as soon as the city falls. Of course, he has given consent for your marriage with Amenche; and said, when I asked him, that she had fairly won you. He says that, if you return hither, he will give to Amenche a wide portion of her brother's dominions. I did not tell him that it was little likely he would ever see you out here, again."
During the next fortnight, Roger instructed Amenche in the outlines of the Christian faith and, the day before the convoy was to start, three weeks after the fall of Mexico, Father Olmedo received her into the Church, and the marriage ceremony took place. It was attended by Cortez and most of his leaders, and by many of the native nobles.
Among them, Roger was glad to meet Cuitcatl. He was one of the party who had been captured with the emperor; and had been at once released, by Cortez, when the latter was informed by Malinche that he had befriended and released Roger. That evening, the two friends had a long talk together.
"You will be happy," Cuitcatl said, "and will come, in time, in your home in your own country, to look back at this terrible time as a troubled dream. I do not mourn for Cacama or Maclutha. They are fortunate in escaping the troubles that yet remain, for my unhappy country; for I well foresee that the Spaniards will gradually subdue those who have served them so well in their campaign against us. Their allies will in time become their subjects, until the whole empire of the Aztecs will lie prostrate at their feet.
"But whatever happens, I shall take no further part in it. I have fought by the side of the Aztecs against my own countrymen. I have done my best to save our nation from falling under the dominion of the Spaniards. I shall retire now to my estates, and devote myself to them. Cortez has given me a paper, signed by him, saying that I, although fighting against him, saved the life of a Spanish prisoner, who was the only one of those captured who escaped being sacrificed; and that, therefore, he orders all Spaniards to treat me with kindness and consideration, and confirms to me and my heirs, to all time, the possession of my estates free from all takes or imposts whatever. Malinche obtained this document from him, and has induced the treasurer and chamberlain, also, to affix their seals to it; and she says that it will be undoubtedly respected.
"As you know, Roger, I should long ago have married my cousin, who was one of Maclutha's ladies in waiting; but we deferred it until these troubles should be over. I have been to Tezcuco today, and we shall be married at the end of the week; so that I have every hope of leading a quiet and happy life, and think that, in the end, these troubles will tend to the happiness of the people of the country. As a Tezcucan, I can acknowledge that the Aztec tyranny was a heavy one, that the people were sorely oppressed. The wholesale sacrifices at the temples, now abolished forever, were the cause of constant wars; and I think that when the Spaniards once overcome all resistance, and establish a firm and stable government, the people will be happier than they ever could have been under the Aztec rule.
"What has become of Bathalda?"
"He accompanied us here, and then went off to your estates; saying that he should collect a few of his friends and occupy your house, to see that none took advantage of the troubles to plunder it. I recommend him to your care, Cuitcatl."
"There is no occasion to do that, Roger. He has been a faithful servant and friend, and shall in future be my right hand."
The next morning Malinche came to say farewell to them.
"How much has taken place, in the last four years, Roger!" she said. "Then, I was a slave girl. You were a captive in a strange country. What scenes we have passed through since then!
"I am sorry, indeed, that you are going, Roger," and the tears came into her eyes; "you were my first friend, and I have loved you ever since, as a brother. I shall miss you sorely, indeed. However, I know that you and Amenche will be happy together.
"Princess, I have something of yours," and she held up a heavy girdle.
Amenche gave a cry of joy.
"I missed it," she said, "but I thought that it must have fallen off in the boat, or as Roger carried me thence to the castle.
"See, Roger," she said, holding it out to them, "this is my dowry. I told you I should not come to you a penniless bride, but I have thought lately that I was mistaken. Maclutha, when she died, gave me all the jewels we carried away from the treasure room at Tezcuco. I selected all the most valuable ones, and sewed them into this broad girdle, which I put on under my things on the night when you escaped. Its loss has grieved me, though you have said that the two little bags you have, already, would suffice to make you rich. Still, they were Maclutha's, and I wanted to give you mine; but I could not think what had become of the belt."
"I found it on you, Amenche, when we loosened your robe to examine your wound; and put it by to give to you or Roger, whichever might recover; and now I am glad to hand it over, as your joint property. I have already returned Roger his own two little bags, that he had given me to take care of.
"And now, farewell to you both. You will think of me, sometimes, in your distant home in England?"
And Malinche, bursting into tears, hurried away.
The journey to the coast was an easy one, as the sick were all transported on litters, carried by native porters. The bracing air of the high land did much to restore the strength of the sick men, who had been suffering much from the terrible heat of the valley. The officer in command of the convoy halted them for a week on the Tlascalan plateau, in order that they might get the full benefit of the cool air; and by the time they reached the coast, and were carried on board ship, Roger felt his strength fast returning.
A comfortable cabin was assigned to him and Amenche, as Cortez had, at Malinche's request, written a letter specially commending them to the care of the officer in command of the ship. The voyage to Spain was a long one and, before the vessel arrived at Cadiz, Roger and Amenche were completely restored to health and strength.
Roger's success, indeed, had been beyond his wildest hopes. The two bags of jewels, and those which Amenche had brought away with her, would suffice to make him a very rich man. He had, too, an assortment of the finest Mexican stuffs, which Malinche had given him as a special present for his friends at home; and he had a bar of gold, of the value of a thousand pounds, which was his share (as one of Cortez's bodyguard) of the gold found at the capture of the capital.
He had learned, from a vessel which was spoken as they neared Spain, that England and Spain were in alliance against France; and he had no doubt, therefore, that he should find English ships at Cadiz. His heart was gladdened, as the vessel entered the port, by seeing the English flag flying on several vessels in harbor.
As soon as Roger and his companions landed, they were surrounded by an eager crowd, all anxious to learn more of the capture of Mexico; of which a swift vessel, sent off as soon as the city fell, had brought news six weeks earlier; and Roger had to tell the story of the siege a dozen times over.
As soon as he could get free from the crowd, he went to a money changer's, and obtained Spanish gold in exchange for his bar. Then he purchased, at a clothier's, a suit of garments of Spanish fashion and, putting these on, was able to move about without attracting observation.
Amenche did not disembark until after nightfall, but Roger's first care after landing was to purchase a chestful of garments, fit for a Spanish lady of rank, and to send them out to the vessel. Having sent these off, he made his way down to the port and, inquiring among the sailors, found that an English ship would sail on the following day.
Hiring a boat, he went on board. He determined to maintain his character as a Spaniard to the last, as he would thereby avoid all questions; and it was, accordingly, in that language that he arranged for a passage for himself and his wife, the captain taking him for a Spanish gentleman having business with the Court in London.
Having settled this, Roger returned on board and, late in the evening, was rowed with Amenche to the English ship, which was to sail early the next morning. The wind was favorable, and the ship made a quick passage. The captain and sailors amused Roger by their comments on his appearance. Never, they agreed, had they seen a Spaniard of such size and strength before.
"He stands six feet three, if he is an inch," an old sailor said, "and he is as broad as any man I ever saw. He is never a bit like a Spaniard in appearance, with his blue eyes and light brown hair. If you were to put him in good English broadcloth, and teach him to talk like a Christian, no one would dream he was other than an Englishman. The Spaniards generally have solemn faces, but this chap looks as if he could laugh and joke with the best of us. One could almost swear that he understood what I am saying, now."
Roger was several times tempted to say that he did understand, but he kept his counsel.
As soon as they landed, near London Bridge, they went to an inn; and when the sailors who had carried his trunk for him had left, he addressed the landlord in English.
"Can you direct me to a clothier, where I can obtain suitable clothes?" he said. "I have been staying in Spain and, having been wrecked and lost all my outfit, had to rig myself in Spanish fashion. I also wish to purchase clothing of English fashion for my wife."
"I thought you were an Englishman, by your looks," the landlord said; "though the fashion of your clothes was altogether foreign, and you speak, too, with a strange accent."
For indeed, Roger found the English words come with difficulty; after having, for nearly six years, spoken nothing but Mexican and Spanish.
"I have been some time away," he said; "and have been talking with the Spaniards until I have well-nigh forgotten my own tongue."
Two hours later, he was attired in the fashion of a well-to-do merchant; and Amenche made, as he told her, the prettiest wife merchant ever had. They stayed for a week in London, Amenche being greatly amused and interested in all she saw. At the end of that time, having purchased a stout horse, and a sword to defend himself against any robbers he might meet with on the way, Roger started to ride down to Plymouth, with Amenche behind him on a pillion.
Six days after leaving London they entered the town, and Roger, having seen Amenche comfortably bestowed at the principal inn, took his way to the house of Master Diggory Beggs. The latter was in his shop, and came forward, bowing, as Roger entered it.
"What can I do for you today, good sir?" he said. "I have goods of all sorts and kinds: Italian work and Spanish; silks, and satins, and velvets."
"I would have a talk with you alone, Master Beggs. I am the bearer of a message from an old friend of yours. If you will grant me a few minutes' talk, we may do business together."
"By all means," the merchant said, thinking that such an introduction offered some important transactions. "Will you be good enough to follow me?" and he led the way upstairs.
Dame Mercy was sitting at work with her youngest daughter when they entered the room, Diggory saying: "Please to leave, Dame. This gentleman and I have business of importance to discuss together."
"There is no occasion for you to leave us," Roger said. "My business is not so private but that you and Mistress Agnes may hear us."
"You know my daughter's name!" Dame Beggs exclaimed, in surprise.
"The gentleman comes with a message from an old friend of ours," Diggory said; "and has doubtless heard him mention our daughter's name."
"And Dorothy," Roger asked; "she is well, I hope."
"My eldest daughter was married, three months since," Dame Mercy replied.
Roger gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"And so none of you know me?" he asked. "And yet, you are but little changed; except that Mistress Agnes has grown into a young woman, whereas she was but a child when I parted from her."
Diggory Beggs and his wife gazed at Roger in astonishment. Agnes stood up, with her hands tightly clasped together.
"It is Roger," she cried. "Oh, mother! It is Roger, come back to us."
"I am Roger, sure enough, aunt," he said, stooping and kissing her; and then shaking hands with his uncle, and kissing Agnes.
"And your father," Diggory asked, "and the Swan?"
"It is a sad story," Roger said. "A very sad story, uncle. Six years ago, the Swan was wrecked on the coast of Tabasco; and every soul, save myself, lost."
It was a blow for Diggory Beggs. He had, indeed, long since given up all hope of ever seeing his cousin Reuben, or of obtaining any return for the capital he had embarked on the Swan; but the sight of Roger had, for a moment, raised his hopes that the venture had, after all, been productive. However, he speedily recovered himself.
"I am grieved to hear it, Roger, though in no ways surprised. For two years we looked for your return; but we have all, long since, given up hope, and written off our shares in the Swan as lost money. I am sorry for Reuben, very sorry, for I loved him like a brother.
"Well, well, do not let us talk about it, now. You are restored to us, safe and sound; and though the loss was a heavy one, and crippled me for a time, I have got over it.
"Now, tell us what have you been doing, ever since. And by what miracle have you returned, safe and sound?"
"It is a long story, uncle. A very long story. But before I begin it, I may tell you that, though the ship and its venture were lost, I myself have returned by no means penniless; and can, indeed, repay to the full all the money expended upon the Swan and her outfit.
"Now I want you all to come round with me to the inn, for there I have left a lady whom I would fain introduce to you."
"Your wife?" Mistress Mercy cried. "You don't say you have brought home a wife, Roger?"
"That do I, aunt. She is a princess, in her own country; but what is much better, she is the dearest of women, and all but gave her life to save mine."
Mistress Mercy looked grave, and was about to speak, when Roger interrupted her.
"I know what you are about to say, aunt. The thought of having a foreign woman for your niece is shocking to you. Never mind, leave it unsaid, until you have seen her.
"But as we go, let us call in and see Dorothy, and take her on with us. I should wish her to be one of the first to welcome my wife."
Dorothy was as astonished as the others had been, when they arrived at her house with Roger; and cast a meaning glance at him, when she heard that he had brought home a wife.
"I know what you are thinking of, Dorothy--our parting on the hoe."
Dorothy laughed.
"I meant it when I said it, Dorothy, and meant it for a good time afterwards. It was only when it seemed that I should never come back again that I fell in love with some one else; and when you have heard my story, and know what she did for me, and how much I owe her, and come to love her for herself, you won't blame me."
"I don't blame you one bit, Roger," she said, frankly. "When you went away, we thought we cared for each other; but of course we were only boy and girl then, and when I grew up and you did not come home, and it seemed that you never would come home, as you say, I fell in love with someone else.
"And now I will put on my hood, and come round and see your wife. What is her name?"
"Her name is Amenche," Roger said; "and Amenche I mean to call her. When she was christened--for of course she had to be christened before we were married--Father Olmedo said she must have a Christian name, and christened her Caterina; but for all that her name is Amenche, and we mean to stick to it.
"But come along; she has been an hour alone in this strange place, already, and must begin to think that I have run away from her."
Dorothy and Agnes were at once won by the soft beauty of the dark-skinned princess; and when, that evening, Roger told the story of all that had taken place in Mexico, Dame Mercy's last prejudice vanished, and she took Amenche in her arms and kissed her tenderly.
"My dear," she said, "Roger has always been as a son to me, and henceforth you will be as one of my daughters."
As to Diggory, his delight and satisfaction were almost too great for words. He was overjoyed that Roger had returned, vastly gratified that the money he expended on the Swan was to be repaid, and greatly captivated by Amenche.
The princess could speak but a few words of English, for Roger had been afraid to commence her tuition in that language until they were safely in England: but she was greatly pleased with the welcome she received; and began, for the first time, to feel that someday she might come to regard this strange country as home.
There was a long talk, between Roger and his uncle, as to the steps that should be taken. It was agreed that, now Spain and England were so closely allied, it would be imprudent in the extreme to allow it to become known that the Swan had sailed for the Western Indies, or that Roger had obtained wealth there; for if it came to the ears of the Court--and such strange news would travel fast--it might well be that a ruinous fine might be imposed upon all concerned in the matter. Therefore, it was arranged that nothing whatever should be said about it; but that it should be given out that the Swan had been wrecked in foreign parts; and that Roger, who had been sole survivor of the wreck, had settled abroad and made money there, and had married a foreign lady.
More than that, it would be unnecessary to tell. The gems could be sent over, a few at a time, to Amsterdam; and there sold to merchants who would care nothing whence they came; and the partners of Diggory Beggs, in the venture of the Swan, would be only too glad to receive their money back again, and to ask no questions as to how it had been obtained. And so matters were carried out.
For some months, Roger remained in nominal partnership with his uncle; and then bought a large estate, a few miles out of the town, where he set up as a country gentleman. He was, for a time, somewhat shyly looked upon by the magistrates of the county, who deemed it an unheard-of thing for a Plymouth merchant thus to settle among them; but in time he was accepted, especially after it became known that, when he went up to town, he held his place among the highest there, and kept a state and expenditure equal to that of many of the nobles.
His wife was remarkable, not only for her beauty, but for the richness of her jewels, many of which were fashioned in a way such as had never before been seen at the English Court. As time went on, and the relations between England and Spain grew cold, there was no longer any occasion for secrecy; and little by little it became known that the Swan had sailed to the Spanish main, that Roger had formed one of the conquering band of Cortez, and that Amenche was not a Spaniard but an Aztec Princess. This caused a great talk at the time, and added much to the consideration in which Roger was held. He took a leading position in the country and, many years after, fitted out two ships at his own cost to fight against the Spanish Armada.
Happily, Amenche's health never suffered from the change to the comparatively cold climate of Devonshire. She bore Roger several children, and to this day many of the first families in Devonshire are proud that there runs in their veins the blood of the Aztec princess.
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{
"id": "19398"
}
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1
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: King and Marshal.
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It was early in 1756 that a Scottish trader, from Edinburgh, entered the port of Stettin. Among the few passengers was a tall young Scotch lad, Fergus Drummond by name. Though scarcely sixteen, he stood five feet ten in height; and it was evident, from his broad shoulders and sinewy appearance, that his strength was in full proportion to his height. His father had fallen at Culloden, ten years before. The glens had been harried by Cumberland's soldiers, and the estates confiscated. His mother had fled with him to the hills; and had lived there, for some years, in the cottage of a faithful clansman, whose wife had been her nurse. Fortunately, they were sufficiently well off to be able to maintain their guests in comfort; and indeed the presents of game, fish, and other matters, frequently sent in by other members of the clan, had enabled her to feel that her maintenance was no great burden on her faithful friends.
For some years, she devoted herself to her son's education; and then, through the influence of friends at court, she obtained the grant of a small portion of her late husband's estates; and was able to live in comfort, in a position more suited to her former rank.
Fergus' life had been passed almost entirely in the open air. Accompanied by one or two companions, sons of the clansmen, he would start soon after daybreak and not return until sunset, when they would often bring back a deer from the forests, or a heavy creel of salmon or trout from the streams. His mother encouraged him in these excursions, and also in the practice of arms. She confined her lessons to the evening, and even after she settled on her recovered farm of Kilgowrie, and obtained the services of a tutor for him, she arranged that he should still be permitted to pass the greater part of the day according to his own devices.
She herself was a cousin of the two brothers Keith; the one of whom, then Lord Marischal, had proclaimed the Old Pretender king at Edinburgh; and both of whom had attained very high rank abroad, the younger Keith having served with great distinction in the Spanish and Russian armies, and had then taken service under Frederick the Great, from whom he had received the rank of field marshal, and was the king's greatest counsellor and friend. His brother had joined him there, and stood equally high in the king's favour. Although both were devoted Jacobites, and had risked all, at the first rising in favour of the Old Pretender, neither had taken part in that of Charles Edward, seeing that it was doomed to failure. After Culloden, James Keith, the field marshal, had written to his cousin, Mrs. Drummond, as follows: "Dear Cousin, "I have heard with grief from Alexander Grahame, who has come over here to escape the troubles, of the grievous loss that has befallen you. He tells me that, when in hiding among the mountains, he learned that you had, with your boy, taken refuge with Ian the forester, whom I well remember when I was last staying with your good husband, Sir John. He also said that your estates had been confiscated, but that he was sure you would be well cared for by your clansmen. Grahame told me that he stayed with you for a few hours, while he was flying from Cumberland's bloodhounds; and that you told him you intended to remain there, and to devote yourself to the boy's education, until better times came.
"I doubt not that ere long, when the hot blood that has been stirred up by this rising has cooled down somewhat, milder measures will be used, and some mercy be shown; but it may be long, for the Hanoverian has been badly frightened, and the Whigs throughout the country greatly scared, and this for the second time. I am no lover of the usurper, but I cannot agree with all that has been said about the severity of the punishment that has been dealt out. I have been fighting all over Europe, and I know of no country where a heavy reckoning would not have been made, after so serious an insurrection. Men who take up arms against a king know that they are staking their lives; but after vengeance comes pardon, and the desire to heal wounds, and I trust that you will get some portion of your estate again.
"It is early yet to think of what you are going to make of the boy, but I am sure you will not want to see him fighting in the Hanoverian uniform. So, if he has a taste for adventure let him, when the time comes, make his way out to me; or if I should be under the sod by that time, let him go to my brother. There will, methinks, be no difficulty in finding out where we are, for there are so many Scotch abroad that news of us must often come home. However, from time to time I will write to you. Do not expect to hear too often, for I spend far more time in the saddle than at my table, and my fingers are more accustomed to grasp a sword than a pen. However, be sure that wherever I may be, I shall be glad to see your son, and to do my best for him.
"See that he is not brought up at your apron string, but is well trained in all exercises; for we Scots have gained a great name for strength and muscle, and I would not that one of my kin should fall short of the mark."
Maggie Drummond had been much pleased with her kinsman's letter. There were few Scotchmen who stood higher in the regard of their countrymen, and the two Keiths had also a European reputation. Her husband, and many other fiery spirits, had expressed surprise and even indignation that the brothers, who had taken so prominent a part in the first rising, should not have hastened to join Prince Charlie; but the more thoughtful men felt it was a bad omen that they did not do so. It was certainly not from any want of adventurous spirit, or of courage, for wherever adventures were to be obtained, wherever blows were most plentiful, James Keith and his brother were certain to be in the midst of them.
But Maggie Drummond knew the reason for their holding aloof; for she had, shortly before the coming over of Prince Charlie, received a short note from the field marshal: "They say that Prince Charles Edward is meditating a mad scheme of crossing to Scotland, and raising his standard there. If so, do what you can to prevent your husband from joining him. We made but a poor hand of it, last time; and the chances of success are vastly smaller now. Then it was but a comparatively short time since the Stuarts had lost the throne of England, and there were great numbers who wished them back. Now the Hanoverian is very much more firmly seated on the throne. The present man has a considerable army, and the troops have had experience of war on the Continent, and have shown themselves rare soldiers. Were not my brother Lord Marischal of Scotland, and my name somewhat widely known, I should not hang back from the adventure, however desperate; but our example might lead many who might otherwise stand aloof to take up arms, which would bring, I think, sure destruction upon them. Therefore we shall restrain our own inclinations, and shall watch what I feel sure will be a terrible tragedy, from a distance; striking perhaps somewhat heavier blows than usual upon the heads of Turks, Moors, Frenchmen, and others, to make up for our not being able to use our swords where our inclinations would lead us.
"The King of France will assuredly give no efficient aid to the Stuarts. He has all along used them as puppets, by whose means he can, when he chooses, annoy or coerce England. But I have no belief that he will render any useful aid, either now or hereafter.
"Use then, cousin, all your influence to keep Drummond at home. Knowing him as I do, I have no great hope that it will avail; for I know that he is Jacobite to the backbone, and that, if the Prince lands, he will be one of the first to join him."
Maggie had not carried out Keith's injunction. She had indeed told her husband, when she received the letter, that Keith believed the enterprise to be so hopeless a one that he should not join in it. But she was as ardent in the cause of the Stuarts as was her husband, and said no single word to deter him when, an hour after he heard the news of the prince's landing, he mounted and rode off to meet him, and to assure him that he would bring every man of his following to the spot where his adherents were to assemble. From time to time his widow had continued to write to Keith; though, owing to his being continually engaged on campaigns against the Turks and Tartars, he received but two or three of her letters, so long as he remained in the service of Russia. When, however, he displeased the Empress Elizabeth, and at once left the service and entered that of Prussia, her letters again reached him.
The connection between France and Scotland had always been close, and French was a language familiar to most of the upper class; and since the civil troubles began, such numbers of Scottish gentlemen were forced either to shelter in France, or to take service in the French or other foreign armies, that a knowledge of the language became almost a matter of necessity. In one of his short letters Keith had told her that, of all things, it was necessary that the lad should speak French with perfect fluency, and master as much German as possible. And it was to these points that his education had been almost entirely directed.
As to French there was no difficulty and, when she recovered a portion of the estate, Maggie Drummond was lucky in hearing of a Hanoverian trooper who, having been wounded and left behind in Glasgow, his term of service having expired, had on his recovery married the daughter of the woman who had nursed him. He was earning a somewhat precarious living by giving lessons in the use of the rapier, and in teaching German; and gladly accepted the offer to move out to Kilgowrie, where he was established in a cottage close to the house, where his wife aided in the housework. He became a companion of Fergus in his walks and rambles and, being an honest and pleasant fellow, the lad took to him; and after a few months their conversation, at first somewhat disjointed, became easy and animated. He learned, too, much from him as to the use of his sword. The Scotch clansmen used their claymores chiefly for striking; but under Rudolph's tuition the lad came to be as apt with the point as he had before been with the edge, and fully recognized the great advantages of the former. By the time he reached the age of sixteen, his skill with the weapon was fully recognized by the young clansmen who, on occasions of festive gatherings, sometimes came up to try their skill with the young laird.
From Rudolph, too, he came to know a great deal of the affairs of Europe, as to which he had hitherto been profoundly ignorant. He learned how, by the capture of the province of Silesia from the Empress of Austria, the King of Prussia had, from a minor principality, raised his country to a considerable power, and was regarded with hostility and jealousy by all his neighbours.
"But it is only a small territory now, Rudolph," Fergus said. " 'Tis small, Master Fergus, but the position is a very strong one. Silesia cannot well be invaded, save by an army forcing its way through very formidable defiles; while on the other hand, the Prussian forces can suddenly pour out into Saxony or Hanover. Prussia has perhaps the best-drilled army in Europe, and though its numbers are small in proportion to those which Austria can put in the field, they are a compact force; while the Austrian army is made up of many peoples, and could not be gathered with the speed with which Frederick could place his force in the field.
"The king, too, is himself, above all things, a soldier. He has good generals, and his troops are devoted to him, though the discipline is terribly strict. It is a pity that he and the King of England are not good friends. They are natural allies, both countries being Protestant; and to say the truth, we in Hanover should be well pleased to see them make common cause together, and should feel much more comfortable with Prussia as our friend than as a possible enemy.
"However, 'tis not likely that, at present, Prussia will turn her hand against us. I hear, by letters from home, that it is said that the Empress of Russia, as well as the Empress of Austria, both hate Frederick; the latter because he has stolen Silesia from her; the former because he has openly said things about her such as a woman never forgives. Saxony and Poland are jealous of him, and France none too well disposed. So at present the King of Prussia is like to leave his neighbours alone; for he may need to draw his sword, at any time, in self defence."
It was but a few days after this that Maggie Drummond received this short letter from her cousin, Marshal James Keith: "My dear Cousin, "By your letter, received a few days since, I learned that Fergus is now nearly sixteen years old; and is, you say, as well grown and strong as many lads two or three years older. Therefore it is as well that you should send him off to me, at once. There are signs in the air that we shall shortly have stirring times, and the sooner he is here the better. I would send money for his outfit; but as your letter tells me that you have, by your economies, saved a sum ample for this purpose, I abstain from doing so. Let him come straight to Berlin, and inquire for me at the palace. I have a suite of apartments there; and he could not have a better time for entering upon military service; nor a better master than the king, who loves his Scotchmen, and under whom he is like to find opportunity to distinguish himself."
A week later, Fergus started. It needed an heroic effort, on the part of his mother, to let him go from her; but she had, all along, recognized that it was for the best that he should leave her. That he should grow up as a petty laird, where his ancestors had been the owners of wide estates, and were powerful chiefs with a large following of clansmen and retainers, was not to be thought of. Scotland offered few openings, especially to those belonging to Jacobite families; and it was therefore deemed the natural course, for a young man of spirit, to seek his fortune abroad and, from the days of the Union, there was scarcely a foreign army that did not contain a considerable contingent of Scottish soldiers and officers. They formed nearly a third of the army of Gustavus Adolphus, and the service of the Protestant princes of Germany had always been popular among them.
Then, her own cousin being a marshal in the Prussian army, it seemed to Mrs. Drummond almost a matter of course, when the time came, that Fergus should go to him; and she had, for many years, devoted herself to preparing the lad for that service. Nevertheless, now that the time had come, she felt the parting no less sorely; but she bore up well, and the sudden notice kept her fully occupied with preparations, till the hour came for his departure.
Two of the men rode with him as far as Leith, and saw him on board ship. Rudolph had volunteered to accompany him as servant, but his mother had said to the lad: "It would be better not, Fergus. Of course you will have a soldier servant, there, and there might be difficulties in having a civilian with you."
It was, however, arranged that Rudolph should become a member of the household. Being a handy fellow, a fair carpenter, and ready to turn his hand to anything, there would be no difficulty in making him useful about the farm.
Fergus had learnt, from him, the price at which he ought to be able to buy a useful horse; and his first step, after landing at Stettin and taking up his quarters at an inn, was to inquire the address of a horse dealer. The latter found, somewhat to his surprise, that the young Scot was a fair judge of a horse, and a close hand at driving a bargain; and when he left, the lad had the satisfaction of knowing that he was the possessor of a serviceable animal, and one which, by its looks, would do him no discredit.
Three days later he rode into Berlin. He dismounted at a quiet inn, changed his travelling dress for the new one that he carried in his valise, and then, after inquiring for the palace, made his way there.
He was struck by the number of soldiers in the streets, and with the neatness, and indeed almost stiffness, of their uniform and bearing. Each man walked as if on parade, and the eye of the strictest martinet could not have detected a speck of dust on their equipment, or an ill-adjusted strap or buckle.
"I hope they do not brace and tie up their officers in that style," Fergus said to himself.
He himself had always been accustomed to a loose and easy attire, suitable for mountain work; and the high cravats and stiff collars, powdered heads and pigtails, and tight-fitting garments, seemed to him the acme of discomfort. It was not long, however, before he came upon a group of officers, and saw that the military etiquette was no less strict, in their case, than in that of the soldiers, save that their collars were less high, and their stocks more easy. Their walk, too, was somewhat less automatic and machine-like, but they were certainly in strong contrast to the British officers he had seen, on the occasions of his one or two visits to Perth.
On reaching the palace, and saying that he wished to see Marshal Keith, he was conducted by a soldier to his apartment; and on the former taking in the youth's name, he was at once admitted. The marshal rose from his chair, came forward, and shook him heartily by the hand.
"So you are Fergus Drummond," he said, "the son of my cousin Maggie! Truly she lost no time in sending you off, after she got my letter. I was afraid she might be long before she could bring herself to part from you."
"She had made up her mind to it so long, sir, that she was prepared for it; and indeed, I think that she did her best to hurry me off as soon as possible, not only because your letter was somewhat urgent, but because it gave her less time to think."
"That was right and sensible, lad, as indeed Maggie always was, from a child.
"She did not speak too strongly about you, for indeed I should have taken you for fully two years older than you are. You have lost no time in growing, lad, and if you lose no more in climbing, you will not be long before you are well up the tree.
"Now, sit you down, and let me first hear all about your mother, and how she fares."
"In the first place, sir, she charged me to give you her love and affection, and to thank you for your good remembrance of her, and for writing to her so often, when you must have had so many other matters on your mind."
"I was right glad when I heard that they had given her back Kilgowrie. It is but a corner of your father's lands; but I remember the old house well, going over there once, when I was staying with your grandfather, to see his mother, who was then living there. How much land goes with it?"
"About a thousand acres, but the greater part is moor and mountain. Still, the land suffices for her to live on, seeing that she keeps up no show, and lives as quietly as if she had never known anything better."
"Aye, she was ever of a contented spirit. I mind her, when she was a tiny child; if no one would play with her, she would sit by the hour talking with her dolls, till someone could spare time to perch her on his shoulder, and take her out."
Marshal Keith was a tall man, with a face thoughtful in repose, but having a pleasant smile, and an eye that lit up with quiet humour when he spoke. He enjoyed the king's confidence to the fullest extent, and was regarded by him not only as a general in whose sagacity and skill he could entirely rely, but as one on whose opinion he could trust upon all political questions. He was his favourite companion when, as happened not unfrequently, he donned a disguise and went about the town, listening to the talk of the citizens and learning their opinions upon public affairs.
"I have spoken to the king about your coming, lad, and told him that you were a kinsman of mine. " 'Indeed, marshal,' the king said, 'from what I can see, it appears to me that all Scotchmen are more or less kin to each other.' " 'It is so to some extent, your majesty. We Scotchmen pride ourselves on genealogy, and know every marriage that has taken place, for ages past, between the members of our family and those of others; and claim as kin, even though very distant, all those who have any of our blood running in their veins. But in this case the kinship is close, the lad's mother being a first cousin of mine. His father was killed at Culloden, and I promised her, as soon as the news came to me, that when he had grown up strong and hearty he should join me, wherever I might be, and should have a chance of making his fortune by his sword.' " 'You say that he speaks both French and German well? It is more than I can do,' the king said with a laugh. 'German born and German king as I am, I get on but badly when I try my native tongue, for from a child I have spoken nothing but French. Still, it is well that he should know the language. In my case it matters but little, seeing that all my court and all my generals speak French. But one who has to give orders to soldiers should be understood by them. " 'Well, what do you want me to do for the lad?' " 'I propose to make him one of my own aides-de-camp,' I replied, 'and therefore I care not so much to what regiment he is appointed; though I own that I would far rather see him in the uniform of the guards, than any other.' " 'You are modest, marshal; but I observe that it is a common fault among your countrymen. Well, which shall it be--infantry or cavalry?' " 'Cavalry, since you are good enough to give me the choice, sire. The uniform looks better, for an aide-de-camp, than that of the infantry.' " 'Very well, then, you may consider him gazetted as a cornet, in my third regiment of Guards. You have no more kinsmen coming at present, Keith?' " 'No, sire; not at present.' " 'If many more come, I shall form them into a separate regiment.' " 'Your majesty might do worse,' I said.
"The king nodded. 'I wish I had half a dozen Scotch regiments; aye, a score or two. They were the cream of the army of Gustavus Adolphus, and if matters turn out as I fear they will, it would be a welcome reinforcement.'
"I will give you a note presently," continued the marshal, "to a man who makes my uniforms, so that I may present you to the king, as soon as you are enrolled. You must remember that your favour, or otherwise, with him will depend very largely upon the fit of your uniform, and the manner in which you carry yourself. There is nothing so unpardonable, in his eyes, as a slovenly and ill-fitting dress. Everything must be correct, to a nicety, under all circumstances. Even during hot campaigns, you must turn out in the morning as if you came from a band box.
"I will get Colonel Grunow, who commands your regiment, to tell off an old trooper, one who is thoroughly up to his work, as your servant. I doubt not that he may be even able to find you a Scotchman, for there are many in the ranks--gentlemen who came over after Culloden, and hundreds of brave fellows who escaped Cumberland's harryings by taking ship and coming over here, where, as they supposed, they would fight under a Protestant king."
"But the king is a Protestant, is he not, sir?"
"He is nominally a Protestant, Fergus. Absolutely, his majesty has so many things to see about that he does not trouble himself greatly about religion. I should say that he was a disciple of Voltaire, until Voltaire came here; when, upon acquaintance, he saw through the vanity of the little Frenchman, and has been much less enthusiastic about him since.
"By the way, how did you come here?"
"We heard of a ship sailing for Stettin, and that hurried my departure by some days. I made a good voyage there, and on landing bought a horse and rode here."
"Well, I am afraid your horse won't do to carry one of my aides-de-camp, so you had best dispose of it, for what it will fetch. I will mount you myself. His majesty was pleased to give me two horses, the other day, and my stable is therefore over full.
"Now, Fergus, we will drink a goblet of wine to your new appointment, and success to your career."
"From what you said in your letter to my mother, sir, you think it likely that we shall see service, before long?"
"Aye, lad, and desperate service, too. We have--but mind, this must go no further--sure news that Russia, Austria, France, and Saxony have formed a secret league against Prussia, and that they intend to crush us first, and then partition the kingdom among themselves. The Empress of Austria has shamelessly denied that any such treaty exists, but tomorrow morning a messenger will start, with a demand from the king that the treaty shall be publicly acknowledged and then broken off, or that he will at once proclaim war. If we say nine days for the journey there, nine days to return, and three days waiting for the answer, you see that in three weeks from the present we may be on the move, for our only chance depends upon striking a heavy blow before they are ready. We have not wasted our time. The king has already made an alliance with England."
"But England has no troops, or scarcely any," Fergus said.
"No, lad, but she has what is of quite as much importance in war--namely, money, and she can grant us a large subsidy. The king's interest in the matter is almost as great as ours. He is a Hanoverian more than an Englishman, and you may be sure that, if Prussia were to be crushed, the allies would make but a single bite of Hanover. You see, this will be a war of life and death to us, and the fighting will be hard and long."
"But what grievance has France against the king?"
"His majesty is open spoken, and no respecter of persons; and a woman may forgive an injury, but never a scornful gibe. It is this that has brought both France and Russia on him. Madame Pompadour, who is all powerful, hates Frederick for having made disrespectful remarks concerning her. The Empress of Russia detests him, for the same reason. She of Austria has a better cause, for she has never forgiven the loss of Silesia; and it is the enmity of these women, as much as the desire to partition Prussia, that is about to plunge Europe into a war to the full as terrible as that of the thirty years."
Keith now rung a bell, and a soldier entered.
"Tell Lieutenant Lindsay that I wish to speak to him."
A minute later an officer entered the room, and saluted stiffly.
"Lindsay, this is a young cousin of mine, Fergus Drummond. The king has appointed him to a cornetcy in the 3rd Royal Dragoon Guards, but he is going to be one of my aides-de-camp. Now that things are beginning to move, you and Gordon will need help.
"Take him first to Tautz. I have written a note to the man, telling him that he must hurry everything on. There is still a spare room on your corridor, is there not? Get your man to see his things bestowed there. I shall get his appointment this evening, I expect, but it will be a day or two before he will be able to get a soldier from his regiment. He has a horse to sell, and various other matters to see to. At any rate, look after him, till tomorrow. 'Tis my hour to go to the king."
Lindsay was a young man of two or three and twenty. He had a merry, joyous face, a fine figure, and a good carriage; but until he and Fergus were beyond the limits of the palace, he walked by the lad's side with scarce a word. When once past the entrance, however, he gave a sigh of relief.
"Now, Drummond," he said, "we will shake hands, and begin to make each other's acquaintance. First, I am Nigel Lindsay, very much at your service. On duty I am another person altogether, scarcely recognizable even by myself--a sort of wooden machine, ready, when a button is touched, to bring my heels smartly together, and my hand to the salute. There is something in the air that stiffens one's backbone, and freezes one from the tip of one's toes to the end of one's pigtail. When one is with the marshal alone, one thaws; for there is no better fellow living, and he chats to us as if we were on a mountain side in Scotland, instead of in Frederick's palace. But one is always being interrupted; either a general, or a colonel, or possibly the king himself, comes in.
"For the time, one becomes a military statue; and even when they go, it is difficult to take up the talk as it was left. Oh, it is wearisome work, and heartily glad I shall be, when the trumpets blow and we march out of Berlin. However, we are beginning to be pretty busy. I have been on horseback, twelve hours a day on an average, for the past week. Gordon started yesterday for Magdeburg, and Macgregor has been two days absent, but I don't know where. Everyone is busy, from the king himself--who is always busy about something--to the youngest drummer. Nobody outside a small circle knows what it is all about. Apparently we are in a state of profound peace, without a cloud in the sky, and yet the military preparations are going on actively, everywhere.
"Convoys of provisions are being sent to the frontier fortresses. Troops are in movement from the Northern Provinces. Drilling is going on--I was going to say night and day, for it is pretty nearly that--and no one can make out what it is all about.
"There is one thing--no one asks questions. His majesty thinks for his subjects, and as he certainly is the cleverest man in his dominions, everyone is well content that it should be so.
"And now, about yourself. I am running on and talking nonsense, when I have all sorts of questions to ask you. But that is always the way with me. I am like a bottle of champagne, corked down while I am in the palace, and directly I get away the cork flies out by itself, and for a minute or two it is all froth and emptiness.
"Now, when did you arrive, how did you arrive, what is the last news from Scotland, which of the branches of the Drummonds do you belong to, and how near of kin are you to the marshal? Oh, by the way, I ought to know the last without asking; as you are a Drummond, and a relation of Keith, you can be no other than the son of the Drummond of Tarbet, who married Margaret Ogilvie, who was a first cousin of Keith's."
"That is right," Fergus said. "My father fell at Culloden, you know. As to all your other questions, they are answered easily enough. I know very little of the news in Scotland, for my mother lived a very secluded life at Kilgowrie, and little news came to us from without. I came from Leith to Stettin, and there I bought a horse and rode on here."
His companion laughed.
"And how about yourself? I suppose you know nothing of this beastly language?"
"Yes; I can speak it pretty fluently, and of course know French."
"I congratulate you, though how you learnt it, up in the hills, I know not. I did not know a word of it, when I came out two years ago; and it is always on my mind, for of course I have a master who, when I am not otherwise engaged, comes to me for an hour a day, and well nigh maddens me with his crack-jaw words; but I don't seem to make much progress. If I am sent with an order, and the officer to whom I take it does not understand French, I am floored. Of course I hand the order, if it is a written one, to him. If it is not, but just some verbal message, asking him to call on the marshal at such and such a time, I generally make a horrible mess of it. He gets in a rage with me, because he cannot understand me. I get in a rage with him, for his dulness; and were it not that he generally manages to find some other officer, who does understand French, the chances are very strongly against Keith's message being attended to.
"First of all, I will take you to our quarters. That is the house."
"Why, I thought you lodged in the palace?"
"Heaven forbid! Macgregor has a room in the chief's suite of apartments. He is senior aide-de-camp, and if there is any message to be sent late, he takes it; but that is not often the case. Gordon lodges here with me. The house is a sort of branch establishment to the palace. Malcolm Menzies and Horace Farquhar, two junior aides of the king, are in the same corridor with us. Of course we make up a party by ourselves. Then there are ten or twelve German officers--some of them aides-de-camp of the Princes Maurice and Henry, the Prince of Bevern and General Schwerin--besides a score or so of palace officials.
"Fortunately the Scotch corridor, as we call it, has a separate entrance, so we can go in or out without disturbing anyone. It is a good thing, for in fact we and the Prussians do not get on very well together. They have a sort of jealousy of us; which is, I suppose, natural enough. Foreigners are never favourites, and George's Hanoverian officers are not greatly loved in London. I expect a campaign will do good, that way. They will see, at any rate, that we don't take our pay for nothing, and are ready to do a full share and more of fighting; while we shall find that these stiff pipe-clayed figures are brave fellows, and good comrades, when they get a little of the starch washed out of them.
"Now, this is my room, and I see my man has got dinner ready."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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2
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: Joining.
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In answer to the shout of "Donald," a tall man in the pantaloons of a Prussian regiment, but with his tunic laid aside, came out from a small room that served as a kitchen, and dormitory, for himself.
"I am just ready, sir," he said. "Hearing you talking as you came along, and not knowing who you might have with you, I just ran in to put on my coat; but as you passed, and I heard it was Scottish you were speaking, I knew that it didna matter."
"Put another plate and goblet on the table, Donald. I hope that you have meat enough for two of us."
"Plenty for four," the soldier said. "The market was full this morning, and the folk so ta'en up wi' this talk of war, and so puzzled because no one could mak' out what it was about, that they did more gossiping than marketing. So when the time came for the market to close, I got half a young pig at less than I should hae paid for a joint, as the woman did not want to carry it home again."
"That is lucky. As you are from Perth, Donald, it is possible you may know this gentleman. He is Mr. Fergus Drummond, of Tarbet."
"I kenned his father weel; aye, and was close beside him at Culloden, for when our company was broken I joined one that was making a stand, close by, and it was Drummond who was leading it. Stoutly did we fight, and to the end stood back to back, hewing with our claymores at their muskets.
"At last I fell, wounded, I couldna say where at the time. When I came to myself and, finding that all was quiet, sat up and felt myself over, I found that it was a musket bullet that had ploughed along the top of my head, and would ha' killed me had it not been that my skull was, as my father had often said when I was a boy, thicker than ordinary. There were dead men lying all about me; but it was a dark night, and as there was no time to be lost if I was to save my skin, I crawled away to some distance from the field; and then took to my heels, and did not stop till next morning, when I was far away among the hills."
While he was talking, Donald had been occupied in adding a second plate and knife and fork and glass, and the two officers sat down to their meal. Fergus asked the soldier other questions as to the fight in which his father had lost his life; for beyond that he had fought to the last with his face to the foe, the lad had never learnt any particulars, for of the clansmen who had accompanied his father not one had ever returned.
"Mr. Drummond will take the empty room next to mine, Donald. I am going down now with him, to the inn where he has left his horse. As he has a few things there, you had best come with us and bring them here."
The landlord of the inn, on hearing that Fergus wished to sell his horse, said that there were two travellers in the house who had asked him about horses; as both had sold, to officers, fine animals they had brought in from the country, there being at present a great demand for horses of that class. One of these persons came in as they were speaking, and after a little bargaining Fergus sold the horse to him, at a small advance on the price he had given for it at Stettin. The landlord himself bought the saddle and bridle, for a few marks; saying that he could, at any time, find a customer for such matters. Donald took the valises and cloak, and carried them back to the palace.
"That matter is all comfortably settled," Lindsay said. "Now we are free men, but my liberty won't last long. I shall have to go on duty again, in half an hour. But at any rate, there is time to go first with you to the tailor's, and put your uniform in hand."
"I wish to be measured for the uniform of the 3rd Royal Dragoon Guards," Fergus said, as he entered the shop and the proprietor came up to him.
"Yes, Herr Tautz; and his excellency, Marshal Keith," Lindsay put in, "wishes you to know that the dress suit must be made instantly, or quicker if possible; for his majesty may, at any moment, order Mr. Drummond to attend upon him. Mr. Drummond is appointed one of the marshal's aides-de-camp; and as, therefore, he will often come under the king's eye, you may well believe that the fit must be of the best, or you are likely to hear of it, as well as Mr. Drummond."
"I will put it in hand at once, lieutenant. It shall be cut out without delay; and in three hours, if Mr. Drummond will call here, it shall be tacked together in readiness for the first trying on. By eight o'clock tomorrow morning it shall be ready to be properly fitted, and unless my men have bungled, which they very seldom do, it shall be delivered by midday."
"Mr. Drummond lodges in the next room to myself," the lieutenant said; "and my servant is looking after him, till he gets one of his own, so you can leave it with him."
While the conversation was going on, two of the assistants were measuring Fergus.
"Will you have the uniform complete, with belts, helmet, and all equipments?"
"Everything except the sword," Fergus said.
"At least I suppose, Lindsay, we can carry our own swords."
"Yes, the king has made that concession, which is a wonderful one, for him, that Scottish officers in his service may carry their own swords. You see, ours are longer and straighter than the German ones, and most of us have learnt our exercises with them, and certainly we would not fight so well with others; besides, the iron basket protects one's hand and wrist vastly better than the foreign guard. The concession was first made only to generals, field officers and aides-de-camp; but Keith persuaded the king, at last, to grant it to all Scottish officers, pointing out that they were able to do much better service with their own claymores, than with weapons to which they were altogether unaccustomed; and that Scottish men were accustomed to fight with the edge, and to strike downright sweeping blows, whereas the swords here are fitted only for the point, which, although doubtless superior in a duel, is far less effective in a general melee."
"I should certainly be sorry to give up my own sword," Fergus said. "It was one of my father's, and since the days when I was big enough to begin to use it, I have always exercised myself with it; though I, too, have learned to use the point a great deal, as I had a German instructor, as well as several Scottish ones."
"Except in a duel," Lindsay said, "I should doubt if skill goes for very much. I have never tried it myself, for I have never had the luck to be in battle; but I fancy that in a cavalry charge strength goes for more than skill, and the man who can strike quickly and heavily will do more execution than one trained to all sorts of nice points and feints. I grant that these are useful, when two men are watching each other; but in the heat of a battle, when every one is cutting and thrusting for his life, I cannot think that there is any time for fooling about with your weapon."
They had by this time left the shop, and were strolling down the streets.
"Is there much duelling here?"
"It is strictly forbidden," Lindsay said, with a laugh; "but I need hardly say that there is a good deal of it. Of course, pains are taken that these affairs do not come to his majesty's ears. Fever, or a fall from a horse, account satisfactorily enough for the absence of an officer from parade, and even his total disappearance from the scene can be similarly explained. Should the affair come to the king's ears, 'tis best to keep out of his way until it has blown over.
"Of course, with us it does not matter quite so much as with Prussian officers. Frederick's is not the only service open to us. Good swords are welcome either at the Russian or Austrian courts, to say nothing of those of half a dozen minor principalities. At all of these we are sure to find countrymen and friends, and if England really enters upon the struggle--and it seems to me that if there is a general row she can scarcely stand aloof--men who have learned their drill and seen some service might be welcomed, even if their fathers wielded their arms on the losing side, ten years ago.
"Of course, to a Prussian officer it would be practical ruin to be dismissed from the army. This is so thoroughly well understood that, in cases of duels, there is a sort of general conspiracy on the part of all the officers and surgeons of a regiment to hush the matter up. Still, if an officer is insulted--or thinks that he is insulted, which is about the same thing--he fights, and takes the consequences.
"I am not altogether sorry that I am an aide-de-camp, and I think that you can congratulate yourself on the same fact; for we are not thrown, as is a regimental officer, into the company of Prussians, and there is therefore far less risk of getting into a quarrel.
"I have no doubt the marshal, himself, will give you a few lessons shortly. He is considered to be one of the finest swordsmen in Europe, and in many respects he is as young as I am, and as fond of adventure. He gave me a few when I first came to him, but he said that it was time thrown away, for that I must put myself in the hands of some good maitre d'armes before he could teach me anything that would be useful. I have been working hard with one since, and know a good deal more about it than I did; but my teacher says that I am too hot and impetuous to make a good swordsman, and that though I should do well enough in a melee, I shall never be able to stand up against a cool man, in a duel. Of course the marshal had no idea of teaching me arms, but merely, as he said, of showing me a few passes that might be useful to me, on occasion. In reality he loves to keep up his sword play, and once or twice a week Van Bruff, who is the best master in Berlin, comes in for half an hour's practice with him, before breakfast."
After Lindsay had left him at the entrance to the palace, Fergus wandered about the town for some hours, and then went to the tailor's and had his uniform tried on. Merely run together though it was, the coat fitted admirably.
"You are an easy figure to fit, Herr Drummond," the tailor said. "There is no credit in putting together a coat for you. Your breeches are a little too tight--you have a much more powerful leg than is common--but that, however, is easily altered.
"Here are a dozen pairs of high boots. I noticed the size of your foot, and have no doubt that you will find some of these to fit you."
This was indeed the case, and among a similar collection of helmets, Fergus also had no difficulty in suiting himself.
"I think that you will find everything ready for you by half-past eight," the tailor said, "and I trust that no further alteration will be required. Six of my best journeymen will work all night at the clothes; and even should his majesty send for you by ten, I trust that you will be able to make a proper appearance before him, though at present I cannot guarantee that some trifling alteration will not be found necessary, when you try the uniforms on."
Fergus supped with the marshal, who had now time to ask him many more questions about his home life, and the state of things in Scotland. " 'Tis a sore pity," he said, "that we Scotchmen and Irishmen, who are to be found in such numbers in every European army, are not all arrayed under the flag of our country. Methinks that the time is not far distant when it will be so. I am, as you know, a Jacobite; but there is no shutting one's eyes to the fact that the cause is a lost one. The expedition of James the Third, and still more that of Charles Edward, have caused such widespread misery among the Stuarts' friends that I cannot conceive that any further attempt of the same kind will be made.
"In fact, there is no one to make it. The prince has lost almost all his friends, by his drunken habits and his quarrelsome and overbearing disposition. He has gone from court to court as a suppliant, but has everywhere alienated the sympathies of those most willing to befriend him. I may say that as a King of England and Scotland he is now impossible, and his own habits have done more to ruin his cause than even the defeat of Culloden. There are doubtless many, in both countries, who consider themselves Jacobites, but it is a matter of sentiment and not of passion.
"At any rate, there is no head to the cause now, and cannot possibly be unless the prince had a son; therefore, for at least five-and-twenty years, the cause is dead. Even if the prince leaves an heir, it would be absurd to entertain the idea that, after the Stuarts have been expelled from England a hundred years, any Scotchman or Englishman would be mad enough to risk life and property to restore them to the throne.
"Another generation and the Hanoverians will have become Englishmen, and the sentiment against them as foreigners will have died out. Then there will be no reason why Scotchmen and Irishmen should any longer go abroad, and all who wish it will be able to find employment in the army of their own country.
"This, indeed, might have happened long before this, had the Georges forgotten that they were Electors of Hanover as well as Kings of Great Britain; and had surrounded themselves with Englishmen instead of filling their courts with Germans, whose arrogance and greed made them hateful to Englishmen, and kept before their eyes the fact that their kings were foreigners. Hanover is a source of weakness instead of strength to Great Britain, and its loss would be an unmixed benefit to her; for as long as it remains under the British crown, so long must Britain play a part in European politics--a part, too, sometimes absolutely opposed to the interests of the country at large."
After supper was over, two general officers dropped in for a chat with the marshal. He introduced Fergus to them, and the latter then retired and joined the little party of Scottish officers at Lindsay's quarters. Lindsay introduced him to them, and he was very heartily received, and it was not until very late that they turned into bed.
At half-past eight next morning Fergus went to the tailor's, and found that he had kept his promise, to the letter. The uniforms fitted admirably, and were complete in every particular. As Marshal Keith had, the evening before, informed him that he had received his appointment to the 3rd Royal Dragoon Guards, he had no hesitation in putting on a uniform when, a quarter of an hour later, it arrived at his quarters. Donald went out and fetched a hairdresser, who combed, powdered, and tied up his hair in proper military fashion. When he left, Donald took him in hand, attired him in his uniform, showed him the exact angle at which his belt should be worn, and the military salute that should be given.
It was fortunate that he was in readiness, for at half-past ten Lindsay came in with a message from the marshal that he was, at once, to repair to the palace, with or without a uniform; as the king had sent to say that he should visit Keith at eleven, and that he could then present his cousin to him.
It could not be said that Fergus felt comfortable, as he started from his quarters. Accustomed to a loose dress and light shoes, he felt stiff and awkward in his tight garments, closely buttoned up, and his heavy jack boots; and he found himself constrained to walk with the same stiffness and precision that had amused him in the Prussian officers, on the previous day.
"So you have got your uniform," the marshal said, as Fergus entered and saluted, as Donald had instructed him. "It becomes you well, lad, and the king will be pleased at seeing you in it. He could not have blamed you had it not been ready, for the time has been short, indeed; but he will like to see you in it, and will consider that it shows alacrity and zeal."
Presently the door opened and, as the marshal rose and saluted, Fergus knew that it was the king. He had never had the king described to him, and had depicted to himself a stiff and somewhat austere figure; but the newcomer was somewhat below middle height, with a kindly face, and the air rather of a sober citizen than of a military martinet. The remarkable feature of his face were his eyes, which were very large and blue, with a quick piercing glance that seemed to read the mind of anyone to whom he addressed himself. So striking were they that the king, when he went about the town in disguise, was always obliged to keep his eyes somewhat downcast; as, however well made up, they would have betrayed him at once, had he looked fixedly at anyone who had once caught sight of his face.
"Good morning, marshal!" he said, in a friendly tone. "So this is my last recruit--a goodly young fellow, truly."
[Illustration: The king walked round Fergus as if he were examining a lay figure] He walked round Fergus as if he were examining a lay figure, closely scrutinizing every article of his appointment, and then gave a nod of approbation.
"Always keep yourself like that, young sir. An officer is unfit to take charge of men, unless he can set an example of exactness in dress. If a man is precise in little things, he will be careful in other matters.
"Although he is going to be your aide-de-camp, Keith, he had better go to his regimental barracks, and drill for a few hours a day, if you can spare him."
"He shall certainly do so, sire. I spoke to his colonel yesterday evening, and told him that I would myself take the lad down to him, this morning, and present him to his comrades of the regiment. It would be well if he could have six months' drilling, for an aide-de-camp should be well acquainted with the meaning of the orders he carries; as he is, in that case, far less likely to make mistakes than he would otherwise be. Your majesty has nothing more to say to him?"
"Nothing. I hope he is not quarrelsome. But there, it is of no use my hoping that, Keith; for your Scotchman is a quarrelsome creature by nature, at least so it seems to me. Of the duels that, in spite of my orders, take place--I know you all try to hide them from me, Keith--I hear of a good many between these hot-headed countrymen of yours and my Prussian officers."
"With deference to your majesty, I don't think that that proves much. It would be as fair to say that these duels show how aggressive are your Prussian officers towards my quiet and patient countrymen.
"Now you can retire, cornet."
Fergus gave the military salute, and retired to the anteroom.
"Have you passed muster?" Lindsay asked with a laugh.
"Yes; at least the king found nothing wrong. He was not at all what I thought he would be."
"No; I was astonished myself, the first time I saw him. He is a capital fellow, in spite of his severity in matters of military etiquette and discipline. He is very kind hearted, does not stand at all upon his dignity, bears no malice, and very soon remits punishment he has given in the heat of the moment. I think that he regards us Scots as being a people for whom allowances must be made, on the ground of our inborn savagery and ignorance of civilized customs. He does not mind plain speaking on our part and, if in the humour, will talk with us much more familiarly than he would do to a Prussian officer."
In a few minutes the bell in the next room sounded. Lindsay went in.
"Are the horses at the door?"
"Yes, marshal."
"Then we will mount at once. I told the colonel of the 3rd that I should be at the barracks by twelve o'clock, unless the king wanted me on his business."
Fergus had already put on his helmet, and he and Lindsay followed Keith downstairs. In the courtyard were the horses, which were held by orderlies.
"That is yours, Fergus," Keith said. "It has plenty of bone and blood, and should carry you well for any distance."
Fergus warmly thanked the marshal for the gift. It was a very fine horse, and capable of carrying double his weight. It was fully caparisoned with military bridle and saddle and horse cloth.
They mounted at once. The orderlies ran to their horses, which were held by a mounted trooper, and the four fell in behind the officers. Lindsay and Fergus rode half a length behind the marshal, but the latter had some difficulty in keeping his horse in that position.
The marshal smiled.
"It does not understand playing second fiddle, Fergus. You see, it has been accustomed to head the procession."
As they rode along through the street, all officers and soldiers stood as stiff as statues at the salute, the marshal returning it as punctiliously, though not as stiffly. In a quarter of an hour they arrived at the gate of a large barracks. The guard turned out as soon as the marshal was seen approaching, and a trumpet call was heard in the courtyard as they entered the gate.
Fergus was struck with the spectacle, the like of which he had never seen before. The whole regiment was drawn up in parade order. The colonel was some distance in the front, the officers ranged at intervals behind him. Suddenly the colonel raised his sword above his head, a flash of steel ran along the line, eight trumpeters sounded the first note of a military air, and the regiment stood at the salute, men and horses immovable, as if carved in stone. A minute later the music stopped, the colonel raised his sword again, there was another flash of steel, and the salute was over. Then the colonel rode forward to meet the marshal.
"Nothing could have been better, my dear colonel," the latter said. "As I told you yesterday, my inspection of your regiment is but a mere form, for I know well that nothing could be more perfect than its order; but I must report to the king that I have inspected all the regiments now in Berlin and Potsdam, and others that will form my command, should any untoward event disturb the peace of the country.
"But before I begin, permit me to present to you this young officer, who was yesterday appointed to your regiment. I have already spoken to you of him. This is Cornet Fergus Drummond, a cousin of my own, and whom I recommend strongly to you. As I informed you, he will for the present act as one of my aides-de-camp."
"You have lost no time in getting your uniform, Mr. Drummond," the colonel said. "I am sure that you will be most cordially received, by all my officers as by myself, as a relation of the marshal, whom we all respect and love."
"I will now proceed to the inspection," the marshal said, and he proceeded towards the end of the line.
The colonel rode beside him, but a little behind. The two aides-de-camp followed, and the four troopers brought up the rear. They proceeded along the front rank, the officers having before this taken up their position in the line. The marshal looked closely at each man as he passed, horse as well as man being inspected.
"I do not think, colonel, that the king himself could have discovered the slightest fault or blemish. The regiment is simply perfect. I hope that during the next few days you will have every shoe inspected by the farrier, and every one showing the least signs of wear taken off and replaced; and that you will also direct the captains of troops to see that the men's kits are in perfect order."
"That shall be done, sir, though I own that I cannot see against whom we are likely to march; for though the air is full of rumours, all our neighbours seem to think of nothing so little as war."
"It may be," Keith said with a smile, "that it is merely his majesty's intention to see in how short a time we can place an army, complete in every particular and ready for a campaign, in the field. His majesty is fond of trying military experiments."
"I hope, marshal, that you will do us the honour of drinking a goblet of champagne with us. Some of my officers have not yet been presented to you, and I shall be glad to take the opportunity of doing so."
"With pleasure, colonel. A good offer should never be refused."
By this time they had moved to the front of the regiment.
"Officers and men of the 3rd Royal Dragoon Guards," Keith said in a loud voice, "I shall have great pleasure in reporting to the king the result of my inspection, that the regiment is in a state of perfect efficiency, and that I have been unable to detect the smallest irregularity or blemish. I am quite sure that, if you should at any time be called upon to fight the enemies of your country, you will show that your conduct and courage will be fully equal to the excellence of your appearance. I feel that whatever men can do you will do.
"God save the king!"
He lifted his plumed hat. The trumpet sounded, the men gave the royal salute, and then a loud cheer burst from the ranks; for the rumours current had raised a feeling of excitement throughout the regiment, and though no man could see from what point danger threatened, all felt that great events were at hand.
The regiment was then dismissed, hoarse words of command were shouted, and each troop moved off to its stable; while the colonel and Keith rode to the officers' anteroom, the trumpets at the same time sounding the officers' call. In a few minutes all were gathered there. The colonel first presented some of his young officers to the marshal, and then introduced Fergus to his new comrades, among whom were two Scotch officers.
"Mr. Drummond will, for the present, serve with the marshal as one of his aides-de-camp; but I hope that he will soon join the regiment where, at any rate, he will at all times find a warm welcome."
Keith had already told the colonel that, for the present, Fergus would be released from all duty as an aide-de-camp, and would spend his time in acquiring the rudiments of drill.
Champagne was now served round. The officers drank the health of the marshal, and he in return drank to the regiment; then all formality was laid aside for a time, and the marshal laughed and chatted with the officers, as if he had been one of themselves. Fergus was surrounded by a group, who were all pleased at finding that he could already talk the language fluently; and in spite of the jealousy of the Scottish officers, felt throughout the service, the impression that he made was a very favourable one; and the hostility of race was softened by the fact that he was a near relation of the marshal, who was universally popular. He won favour, too, by saying, when the colonel asked whether he would rather have a Scottish or a Prussian trooper assigned to him, as servant and orderly, that he would choose one of the latter.
After speaking to the adjutant the colonel gave an order and, two minutes later, a tall and powerful trooper entered the room and saluted. The adjutant went up to him.
"Karl Hoger," he said, "you are appointed orderly and servant to Mr. Fergus Drummond. He is quartered at the officers' house, facing the palace. You will take your horse round there, and await his arrival. He will show you where it is to be stabled. You are released from all regimental duty until further orders."
The man saluted and retired, without the slightest change of face to show whether the appointment was agreeable to him, or otherwise.
Half an hour later the marshal mounted and, with his party, rode back to the palace. After he had dismounted, Lindsay and Fergus rode across to their quarters. Karl Hoger was standing at the entrance, holding his horse. He saluted as the two officers came up.
"I will go in and see if dinner is ready," Lindsay said. "I told Donald that we should be back at half-past one, and it is nearly two now, and I am as hungry as a hunter."
Fergus led the way to the stable, and pointed out to the trooper the two stalls that the horses were to occupy; for each room in the officers' quarters had two stalls attached to it, the one for the occupant, the other for his orderly.
"I suppose you have not dined yet, Karl?"
"No, sir, but that does not matter."
"I don't want you to begin by fasting. Here are a couple of marks. When you have stabled the horses and finished here, you had better go out and get yourself dinner. I shall not be able to draw rations for you for today.
"After you have done, come to the main entrance where I met you and take the first corridor to the left. Mine is the fifth door on the right-hand side. If I am not in, knock at the next door to it on this side. You will see Lieutenant Lindsay's name on it.
"You need not be in any hurry over your meal, for I am just going to have dinner, and certainly shall not want you for an hour."
On reaching Lindsay's quarters Fergus found that dinner was waiting, and he and Lindsay lost no time in attacking a fine fish that Donald had bought in the market.
"That is a fine regiment of yours, Drummond," Lindsay said.
"Magnificent. Of course, I never saw anything like it before, but it was certainly splendid."
"Yes. They distinguished themselves in the campaigns of Silesia very much. Their colonel, Grim, is a capital officer--very strict, but a really good fellow, and very much liked by his officers. However, if I were you, I should be in no hurry to join. I had two years and a half in an infantry regiment, before Keith appointed me one of his aides-de-camp, and I can tell you it was hard work--drill from morning till night. We were stationed at a miserable country place, without any amusements or anything to do; and as at that time there did not seem the most remote chance of active service, it was a dog's life. Everyone was surly and ill tempered, and I had to fight two duels."
"What about?"
"About nothing, as far as I could see. A man said something about Scotch officers, in a tone I did not like. I was out of temper, and instead of turning it off with a laugh I took it up seriously, and threw a glass at his head. So of course we fought. We wounded each other twice, and then the others stopped it. The second affair was just as absurd, except that there I got the best of it, and sliced the man's sword arm so deeply that he was on the sick list for two months--the result of an accident, as the surgeon put it down. So although I don't say but that there is a much better class of men in the 3rd than there was in my regiment, I should not be in any hurry to join.
"If there is a row, you will see ten times as much as an aide-de-camp as you would in your regiment, while during peacetime there is no comparison at all between our lives as aides-de-camp and that of regimental officers.
"I fancy you have rather a treasure in the man they have told off to you. He was the colonel's servant at one time, but he got drunk one day, and of course the colonel had to send him back to the ranks. One of the officers told me about him when he came in, and said that he was one of the best riders and swordsmen in the regiment. The adjutant told me that he has specially chosen him for you, because he had a particularly good mount, and that as your orderly it would be of great importance that he should be able to keep up with you. Of course, he got the horse when he was the colonel's orderly; and though he was sent back to the ranks six months ago, the colonel, who was really fond of the man, allowed him to keep it."
"I thought it seemed an uncommonly good animal, when he led it into the stable," Fergus said. "Plenty of bone, and splendid quarters. I hope he was not unwilling to come to me. It is a great fall from being a colonel's servant to become a cornet's."
"I don't suppose he will mind that; and at any rate, while he is here the berth will be such an easy one that I have no doubt he will be well content with it, and I daresay that he and Donald will get on well together.
"Donald is a Cuirassier. After Keith appointed me as one of his aides, he got me transferred to the Cuirassiers, who are stationed at Potsdam. That was how I came to get hold of Donald as a servant."
A few minutes after they had done dinner, there was a knock at the door. The orderly entered and saluted.
"You will find my man in there," Lindsay said. "At present, Mr. Drummond and I are living together. I daresay you and he will get on very comfortably."
For the next fortnight, Fergus spent the whole day in barracks. He was not put through the usual preliminary work, but the colonel, understanding what would be most useful to him, had him instructed in the words of command necessary for carrying out simple movements, his place as cornet with a troop when in line or column; and being quick, intelligent, and anxious to learn, Fergus soon began to feel himself at home.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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3
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: The Outbreak Of War.
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As Lindsay had predicted, the marshal had, on the evening of the day Fergus joined his regiment, said to him: "I generally have half an hour's fencing the first thing of a morning, Fergus. It is good exercise, and keeps one's muscles lissome. Come round to my room at six. I should like to see what the instructors at home have done for you, and I may be able to put you up to a few tricks of the sword that may be of use to you, if you are ever called upon to break his majesty's edicts against duelling."
Fergus, of course, kept the appointment.
"Very good. Very good, indeed," the marshal said, after the first rally. "You have made the most of your opportunities. Your wrist is strong and supple, your eye quick. You are a match, now, for most men who have not worked hard in a school of arms. Like almost all our countrymen, you lack precision. Now, let us try again."
For a few minutes Fergus exerted himself to the utmost, but failed to get his point past the marshal's guard. He had never seen fencing like this. Keith's point seemed to be ever threatening him. The circles that were described were so small that the blade seemed scarcely to move; and yet every thrust was put aside by a slight movement of the wrist, and he felt that he was at his opponent's mercy the whole time. Presently there was a slight jerk and, on the instant, his weapon was twisted from his hand and sent flying across the room.
Keith smiled at his look of bewilderment.
"You see, you have much to learn, Fergus."
"I have indeed, sir. I thought that I knew something about fencing, but I see that I know nothing at all."
"That is going too far the other way, lad. You know, for example, a vast deal more than Lindsay did when he came to me, six months ago. I fancy you know more than he does now, or ever will know; for he still pins his faith on the utility of a slashing blow, as if the sabre had a chance against a rapier, in the hands of a skilful man. However, I will give you a lesson every morning, and I should advise you to go to Van Bruff every evening.
"I will give you a note to him. He is by far the best master we have. Indeed, he is the best in Europe. I will tell him that the time at your disposal is too short for you to attempt to become a thorough swordsman; but that you wish to devote yourself to learning a few thrusts and parries, such as will be useful in a duel, thoroughly and perfectly. I myself will teach you that trick I played on you just now, and two others like it; and I think it possible that in a short time you will be able to hold your own, even against men who may know a good deal more of the principles and general practice of the art than yourself."
Armed with a note from the marshal, Fergus went the next day to the famous professor. The latter read the letter through carefully, and then said: "I should be very glad to oblige the marshal, for whom I have the highest respect, and whom I regard as the best swordsman in Europe. I often practise with him, and always come away having learned something. Moreover, the terms he offers, for me to give you an hour and a half's instruction every evening, are more than liberal. But every moment of my time in the evening is occupied, from five to ten. Could you come at that hour?"
"Certainly I could, professor."
"Then so be it. Come at ten, punctually. My school is closed at that hour, but you will find me ready for you."
Accordingly, during the next three weeks Fergus worked, from ten till half-past eleven, with Herr Van Bruff; and from six till half past with the marshal. His mountain training was useful indeed to him now; for the day's work in the barrack was in itself hard and fatiguing and, tough as his muscles were, his wrist at first ached so at nights that he had to hold it, for some time, under a tap of cold water to allay the pain. At the end of a week, however, it hardened again; and he was sustained by the commendations of his two teachers, and the satisfaction he felt in the skill he was acquiring.
"Where is your new aide-de-camp, marshal?" the king asked, one evening.
It was the close of one of his receptions.
"As a rule, these young fellows are fond of showing off in their uniforms, at first."
"He is better employed, sire. He has the makings of a very fine swordsman and, having some reputation myself that way, I should be glad that my young cousin should be able to hold his own well, when we get to blows with the enemy. So I and Van Bruff have taken him in hand, and for the last three weeks he has made such progress that this morning, when we had open play, it put me on my mettle to hold my own. So, what with that and his regimental work, his hands are more than full; and indeed, he could not get through it, had he to attend here in the evening; and I know that as soon as he has finished his supper he turns in for a sound sleep, till he is woke in time to dress and get to the fencing school, at ten. Had there been a longer time to spare, I would not have suffered him to work so hard; but seeing that in a few days we may be on the march to the frontier, we have to make the most of the time."
"He has done well, Keith, and his zeal shows that he will make a good soldier. Yes, another three days, and our messenger should return from Vienna; and the next morning, unless the reply is satisfactory, the troops will be on the move. After that, who knows?"
During the last few days, the vague rumours that had been circulating had gained strength and consistency. Every day fresh regiments arrived and encamped near the city; and there were reports that a great concentration of troops was taking place, at Halle, under the command of Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick; and another, under the Duke of Bevern, at Frankfort-on-the-Oder.
Nevertheless, the public announcement that war was declared with Austria, and that the army would march for the frontier, in three days' time, came as a sudden shock. The proclamation stated that, it having been discovered that Austria had entered into a secret confederacy with other powers to attack Prussia; and the king having, after long and fruitless negotiations, tried to obtain satisfaction from that power; no resource remained but to declare war, at once, before the confederates could combine their forces for the destruction of the kingdom.
Something like dismay was, at first, excited by the proclamation. A war with Austria was, in itself, a serious undertaking; but if the latter had powerful allies, such as Russia, France, and Saxony--and it was well known that all three looked with jealousy on the growing power of the kingdom--the position seemed well-nigh desperate.
Among the troops, however, the news was received with enthusiasm. Confident in their strength and discipline, the question of the odds that might be assembled against them in no way troubled them. The conquest of Silesia had raised the prestige of the army, and the troops felt proud that they should have the opportunity of proving their valour in an even more serious struggle.
Never was there a more brilliant assembly than that at the palace, the evening before the troops marched. All the general officers and their staffs were assembled, together with the ladies of the court, and those of the nobility and army. The king was in high good humour, and moved about the rooms, chatting freely with all.
"So you have come to see us at last, young sir," he said to Fergus. "I should scold you, but I hear that you have been utilizing your time well.
"Remember that your sword is to be used against the enemies of the country, only," and nodding, he walked on.
The Princess Amelia was the centre of a group of ladies. She was a charming princess, but at times her face bore an expression of deep melancholy; and all knew that she had never ceased to mourn the fate of the man she would have chosen, Baron Trench, who had been thrown into prison by her angry father, for his insolence in aspiring to his daughter's hand.
"You must be glad that your hard work is over, Drummond," Lindsay said, as they stood together watching the scene.
"I am glad that the drill is over," Fergus replied, "but I should have liked my work with the professor to have gone on for another six months."
"Ah, well! You will have opportunities to take it up again, when we return, after thrashing the Austrians."
"How long will that be, Lindsay?"
The latter shrugged his shoulders.
"Six months or six years; who can tell?" he said. "If it be true that Russia and France, to say nothing of Saxony, are with her, it is more likely to be years than months, and we may both come out colonels by the time it is over."
"That is, if we come out at all," Fergus said, with a smile at the other's confidence.
"Oh! Of course, there is that contingency, but it is one never worth reckoning with. At any rate, it is pretty certain that, if we do fall, it will be with odds against us; but of course, as aides-de-camp our chance is a good deal better than that of regimental officers.
"At any rate, you have had good preparation for the campaign, for your work will be child's play in comparison to what you have been going through. How you stood it, I cannot make out. I worked pretty hard when I first arrived; but the drill for the first six months was tremendous, and I used to be glad to crawl into bed, as soon as I had had my supper.
"Well, you have been a poor companion so far, Drummond."
"I am afraid I have been, but will try and make up for it, in the future.
"I suppose there is no doubt that we shall march, in the first place, on Dresden."
"I think that there is no doubt of that. There is no Saxon army to speak of, certainly nothing that can offer any serious opposition. From there there are three or four passes by which we could pour into Bohemia. Saxony is a rich country, too, and will afford us a fine base for supplies, as we move on. I suppose the Austrians will collect an army to oppose us, in Bohemia. When we have thrashed them, I expect we shall go on straight to Vienna."
Fergus laughed.
"It all sounds easy enough, Lindsay. I only hope that it will come off just as you prophesy."
"That is one advantage of fighting in a foreign service, Fergus. One fights just as stoutly for victory as if one were fighting for home, but if one is beaten it does not affect one so much. It is sad to see the country overrun, and pillaged; but the houses are not the houses of our own people, the people massacred are not one's own relations and friends. One's military vanity may be hurt by defeat; otherwise, one can bear it philosophically."
"I never looked at it in that light before, Lindsay, but no doubt there is a great deal in what you say. If my father had fallen on a German battlefield, instead of at Culloden, our estates would not have been confiscated, our glens harried, and our clansmen hunted down and massacred. No, I see there is a great difference. I suppose I should fight just as hard, against the Austrians, as I should have done against the English at Culloden, had I been there; but defeat would have none of the same consequences. No, putting it as you do, I must own that there is a distinct advantage in foreign service, that I never appreciated before.
"But I see people are leaving, and I am not sorry. As we are going to be up before daybreak, the sooner one turns in the better."
Karl had received the order to call his master at three, to have breakfast ready at half past, and the horses at the door at four, with somewhat less than his usual stolidity.
"You will have harder work in the future, Karl," Fergus said.
"I shall be glad of it, sir. Never have I had such a lazy time as I have had for the last month. The first three or four days were very pleasant; then I began to think that I should like a little to do, so as to remind me that there was such a thing as work. But the last fortnight has been terrible. A man cannot sleep for twenty-four hours, and if it had not been that Donald and I have had an occasional quarrel, as to our respective regiments and over the native land he is so fond of bragging about, I should have been ready to hang myself.
"Ah, sir, how often have I to thank my stars that I did not take my discharge! --which I could have asked for, as I have served my time. I had thought of it, many times; and had said to myself how delightful it would be to hear the morning call sound, at a barracks near, and to turn over in my bed and go to sleep again; to have no guard to keep, no sergeant to bully or provost guard to arrest one, if one has taken a cup too much. This fortnight has shown me the folly of such ideas. It has taught me when I am well off, and what misery it is to be one's own master, and to be always wondering how the day is to be got through."
"Well, you are not likely to have to complain that you have nothing to do, for some time now, Karl."
"No, cornet. I have felt a new man, since I heard the great news. There is always plenty to do, on a campaign. There are the horses to be cleaned, food to be cooked, forage and rations to be fetched. Then, too, on a campaign every one is merry and good tempered, and one sings as one marches and sits round the campfire. One may be cold and wet and hungry, but who cares? One swears at the moment, but one laughs again, as soon as the sun shines."
"Well, Karl, you had best turn in at once, for at three o'clock we shall want to be called."
"You can rely upon my waking, sir. Does my officer wish to take a full-dress suit with him?"
"No; the order is that all are to start in marching order, and that all baggage is to be cut down to the smallest proportions. No officer is to take more than can be carried in his valises."
It was the first week in August when the three columns, each twenty thousand strong, moved from their respective starting points. Although the king was nominally in command of the central division, Marshal Keith was the real commander. He rode with the king at the head of the column, and his aides-de-camp, and those of Frederick, were constantly on their way up and down the line, carrying orders and bringing in reports as to the manner in which the regiments maintained their respective positions, and especially how the artillery and baggage train kept up.
There was no necessity, at present, for taking precautions. The march would for some days lead through Prussia, and it was morally certain that the Saxon army--which was small and scattered and, even if united, would not equal the strength of one of the Prussian armies--would not attempt any serious resistance; for the country was flat, and there would be no defiles where a small force of men could successfully oppose a larger one. Nevertheless, the daily marches were long for the infantry and the baggage, but by no means fatiguing for mounted men. The staff and aides-de-camp, with their orderlies, rode behind the leaders. The troopers were sometimes employed, instead of the officers, when a short written order had to be sent back to the rear of the column.
The harvest having been gathered in, the cavalry rode across the open country, thus reducing the length of the column. The day was very hot, and the infantry opened their ranks, as much as possible, to allow the passage of what little air was moving. At nine o'clock the troops were halted. Each man had been served with a breakfast, before starting; and the haversacks were now opened, and a meal made of the bread they contained, washed down with an allowance of rough wine, carried in each regimental waggon. Then the men sat down, under the shade of greatcoats supported by ramrods and other contrivances, and either slept or talked until half-past two; when the bugle sounded. The greatcoats were rolled up and strapped on to the knapsacks, then there was a vigorous use of the brush, to remove the thick dust gathered on the march. At three the column got into motion again, and halted for the night at half-past six; when fires were lighted, coppers put on, and the main meal of the day presently served.
The rations of the officers were the same as those of the men, but the greater part of them supplemented the food by that carried in their orderlies' saddlebags. Lindsay, Fergus, and the marshals other two aides-de-camp had arranged that, when possible, they should mess together; and their servants should prepare the meal by turns, while those not so engaged looked after the horses, saw that they were fed, watered, and groomed. The servants were all old campaigners, and though neither Lindsay nor Fergus had thought of giving them orders to that effect, both Donald and Karl had laid in a stock of provisions.
Donald had cooked a pair of fowls on the previous evening. Karl had bought a sucking pig. One of the German officer's servants had a huge piece of salt beef, that had already been boiled, while the other had a hare. It was agreed at once that the fowls should be left for early breakfast; and the beef put aside for dinner, and for supper, also, if nothing else could be obtained. Karl, as the servant of the junior officer, was cook for the evening, and he acquitted himself admirably.
Each officer carried in his saddlebag a tin plate, a drinking horn, and a knife, fork, and spoon. There was no dish, but the spit was handed round, and each cut off a portion. Soup made from the ration of meat was first served, then the hare, and then the sucking pig, while the four orderlies had an ample meal from the ration of meat. A supply of spirits had been carried in the staff waggon. This they took, plentifully watered, with the meal; with a stronger cup afterwards.
The night was so fine that all agreed that it was not worthwhile to erect the tent carried for them in the waggon. At eight o'clock the order for the next day's march came out, and two of the king's orderlies started on horseback with copies of it to the commanders of brigades, who in their turn communicated to the colonels of their respective regiments.
The next evening the force encamped round Torgau, a very strong fortress, where a great store of provisions had been collected. Ample quarters were assigned to the marshal and his staff in the town. Here they halted for a day to allow the other armies, which had both farther to march, to keep abreast of them on their respective lines of route.
Then, following the Elbe, the army arrived after two marches in front of Dresden. The court of Saxony had, for years, been wasting the revenues of the country in extravagance and luxury; while intriguing incessantly with Austria, and dreaming of obtaining an increase of territory at the expense of Prussia. No effort had been made to prepare to carry out the engagements entered into with Austria; and the army, utterly neglected, numbered but some fifteen thousand. These were scattered over the country, and but poorly provided with artillery.
When, then, the news arrived that three Prussian armies had crossed the frontier, there was no thought of resistance; but orders were despatched for the whole force to concentrate at Pirna, a strongly fortified camp among the defiles of the mountains separating Saxony from Bohemia. The position was almost an impregnable one, and they could receive reinforcements from Bohemia.
On the arrival of the Prussian army the king fled, and Dresden threw open its gates. As Frederick hoped to detach Saxony from the alliance against him, the greater portion of the army were encamped outside the town; three or four regiments, only, marching in and quartering themselves in the empty Saxon barracks. The aid Saxony could render Frederick would be insignificant, but it was most desirable for him that he should ensure its neutrality, in order to secure his communications with Prussia when he marched forward into Bohemia.
Finding the king had gone, his first step was to send a general officer, with a party of soldiers, to seize the archives in the palace. Among these was discovered the prize he most desired to find; namely a signed copy of the secret treaty, between Austria, Russia, France, and Saxony, for the invasion and partition of Prussia. Copies of this document were instantly sent off to the courts of Europe, thus affording an ample justification for what would otherwise have appeared a wholly unprovoked attack by Prussia upon her neighbours. Had it not been for the discovery of this document, Frederick would probably have always remained under the stigma of engaging in an unprovoked and ambitious war; for the court of Austria had hitherto, positively and categorically, declared to Frederick's ambassador and envoys the non-existence of any such treaty or agreement between the powers.
As the queen had remained in the palace, Frederick took up his abode in another royal building, Marshal Keith and a large number of officers being also quartered there. In order to prevent any broils with the citizens, orders were issued that certain places of refreshment were to be used only by officers, while the soldiers were only to frequent wine and beer shops selected in the neighbourhood of the barracks, and were strictly forbidden to enter any others. Any soldier caught in an act of theft or pillage was to be hung, forthwith, and all were enjoined to observe a friendly demeanour to the people.
One evening, Fergus had been sent with a message to the camp, two miles from the town. It was nearly ten o'clock when he started to ride back. When within half a mile of the town he heard a pistol shot, in the direction of a large house, a quarter of a mile from the road.
Without hesitation he turned his horse's head in that direction. In a couple of minutes he arrived at a pair of large gates. They were closed, but he dismounted, fastened the bridle chain to them and, snatching the pistols from his holsters, ran along by the side of a high wall, until he came to a tree growing close to it.
With some difficulty, for his high boots were ill adapted to such work, he climbed the tree, got on to the wall, and dropped down. He was in large park-like grounds. Guided by a light in a window, he ran to the house. The door was closed. After hesitating for a moment he ran along and, soon coming, as he expected, to an open window, he at once climbed through it. A door was open and, passing on, he entered a large hall in which a light was burning.
Pausing to listen now, he heard voices upstairs and, holding a pistol in each hand and his drawn sword in his teeth, he lightly ascended the stairs. On the landing two men lay dead. Light was issuing from a half-closed door and, noiselessly approaching it, he looked in.
It was a small room. At the end stood eight or ten scared women, huddled together; while a soldier, with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, stood sentry over them. These were evidently the servants of the chateau, who had been unceremoniously hauled from their beds and gathered there, under a guard, to prevent them from screaming or giving any alarm. As Fergus was equally anxious that no alarm should be given, at present, he retired quietly.
A pair of double doors faced the top of the staircase. This was evidently the grand reception room and, listening intently, he could hear a murmur of voices inside. Turning the handle and throwing them suddenly open, he entered.
Upon the floor lay the body of a gentleman. A lady, pale as death and in a half-fainting condition, leant back in a settee; while a girl of thirteen or fourteen lay on a couch, with bound hands and a handkerchief fastened across her mouth.
Three soldiers were engaged in examining the contents of a large coffer of jewels. As the door opened they turned round and, on seeing a solitary officer, sprang forward with terrible oaths. Fergus shot one of them as they did so, dropped the pistol, and seized his sword. Both men fired. Fergus felt a stinging sensation in his left arm, and the pistol held in that hand dropped to the ground.
Confident in his swordsmanship, he awaited the onslaught of the two marauders. The swords clashed, and at the second pass one of them fell back, run through the body. The other, shouting for aid, stood on the defensive. Fergus heard the rush of heavy steps coming down the staircase and, just as three other men rushed into the room, he almost clove his opponent's head in two, with a tremendous blow from his claymore.
[Illustration: Two of the newcomers fired hastily--and both missed] Two of the newcomers fired their pistols hastily--both missed--then rushed at him with their swords; and as he was hotly engaged with them the third, who was the sentry who had been placed over the women, advanced slowly, with his pistol pointed, with the intention of making sure of his aim. He paused close to the combatants, waiting for an opportunity to fire between the shifting figures of his comrades; when a white figure, after peering in at the door, ran swiftly forward and threw herself on his back, hurling him forward to the ground, his pistol exploding as he fell.
One of the others started back at the sound, and as he did so Fergus ran him through the body. He then attacked his remaining opponent, and after a few passes laid him dead beside his comrade. Picking up his own fallen pistol, Fergus blew out the brains of the soldier, who was struggling to free himself from the girl's weight, and then helped her to her feet.
"Well done, my brave girl!" he said. "You have saved my life. Now run and tell those wenches to stop screaming, and to come and help their mistress. These scoundrels are all killed, and there is nothing more for them to be alarmed at."
Then he ran to the girl on the sofa, cut her cords with a dagger, and freed her from the gag. As he did so, she leapt up and ran to her mother's side; while Fergus, kneeling by the gentleman who had fallen before he had entered, turned him over and, laying his ear over his heart, listened intently.
"He is alive," he said. "His heart beats, but faintly. Tell the maids to fetch some cordial."
The women were coming in now, some crying hysterically, some shrieking afresh at the sight of the bodies that were strewn about the room.
"Silence!" Fergus shouted sternly. "Now, while one runs to fetch some cordial, do three others come here, and aid me to lift your master gently on to this couch."
The maid who had overthrown the soldier at once came forward to his assistance.
"Now, Truchen and Lisa," the young girl said, stamping her foot, "come at once.
"Do you, Caroline, run and fetch the stand of cordials from the dining room."
The two women approached timidly.
"Now," Fergus said, "get your arm under his shoulders, on your side, and I will do the same. One of you others support his head when we lift, the other take his feet."
So, gently he was raised and laid on the couch. By the time this was done, the woman returned with a bottle of spirits.
"Now," he said, "water and a glass."
The young girl ran and fetched a carafe of water and a tumbler, standing on a table by the wall. Her hands shook as she handed it to Fergus.
"Are you sure that he is not dead, sir?" she asked, in a hushed voice.
"Quite sure. I fear that he is grievously wounded, but he certainly lives. Now, get another glass and put some spirits in and fill it up with water, and make your mother drink it, as soon as you have roused her from her faint."
Fergus now gave all his attention to the wounded man, poured two or three spoonfuls of strong spirits and water between his lips, and then proceeded to examine his wounds. He had three. One was a very severe cut upon the shoulder. His left arm had been broken by a pistol bullet, and he had a dangerous sword thrust in the body.
Under Fergus' direction the servant had cut off the doublet and, after pouring some more spirits down the wounded man's throat, he bade one of the other women fetch him some soft linen, and a sheet. When these arrived he made a pad of the linen, and bound it over the wounded man's shoulder with some strips torn from the sheet. Then he sent for some straight strips of wood, cut them to the right length, wrapped some linen round them and, straightening the arm, applied them to it and, with the assistance of the girl, bandaged it firmly. Then he placed a pad of linen over the wound in the body, and passed bandages round and round.
"Well done!" he said to his assistant. "You are a stout girl, and a brave one."
Then he turned to the others, who were crowded round their mistress.
"Stand back," he said, "and throw open the window and let the air come to her. That will do.
"The young lady and this girl will be enough, now. Do the rest of you run off and get some clothes on."
"She has opened her eyes once, sir."
"She will come round directly, young lady. Pour a spoonful or two from this glass between her lips. It is stronger than that you have in your hand. She has had a terrible shock, but as soon as she hears that your father is alive, it will do more for her than all our services."
"Will he live, sir?"
"That I cannot say for certain, but I have great hopes that he will do so. However, I will send a surgeon out, as soon as I get to the city."
The lady was longer in her swoon than Fergus had expected, and the servants had returned before she opened her eyes.
"Now," he said, "do four of you lend me your assistance. It would be well to carry this sofa with your master into the next room; and then we will take your mistress in there, too, so that she will be spared seeing these ruffians scattered about, when she comes to herself."
The doors leading to the adjoining apartment were opened, candles lighted there, and the wounded man carried in on his sofa.
"And now for your mistress. It will be easier to lift her out of the chair, and carry her in bodily."
This he did, with the assistance of two of the servants.
"Now," he said to the young girl, "do you stay by her, my brave maid. I think she will recover in a minute or two. Her eyelids moved as I brought her in. I will look round and see about things.
"Were these the only two men in the house?" he asked the other women, as he joined them on the landing.
"No, sir. There were six men. The other four have gone to bed, but the two outside always waited up till the count and countess retired."
"Where are their rooms?" he asked, taking a candle.
One of the women led him upstairs. As he expected, he found the four men lying dead. One had apparently leapt up as the door was opened, and the other three had been killed in their beds.
"Where can I get help from?"
"There are the men at the stables. It is at the back of the house, three or four hundred yards away."
"Well, take one of the other women with you, and go and rouse them. Tell them to dress and come here, at once."
He now went down to the gate, undid the fastening, and then led his horse up to the house. In a few minutes the stablemen arrived. He ordered them to carry the bodies of the six marauders out, and lay them in front of the house. When they had done so, they were to take those of the servants and place them in an outhouse. Then he went upstairs again.
"The countess has recovered, sir," one of the women said.
"Tell her that I will send one of the army surgeons down, at once. But first, bandage my arm. It is but a flesh wound, I know; but I am feeling faint, and am sure that it is keeping on bleeding.
"Here, my girl," he said to the one who had before assisted, "I can trust to you not to faint."
With her assistance he took off his coat, the arm of which was saturated with blood.
"You had better cut off the sleeve of the shirt," he said.
This was done, and the nature of the wound was seen. A ball had ploughed through the flesh three inches below the shoulder, inflicting a gaping but not serious wound.
"It is lucky that it was not the inside of the arm," he said to the girl, as she bandaged it up; "for had it been, I should have bled to death in a very few minutes.
"Has the count opened his eyes yet?"
"No, sir. He is lying just as he was."
"What is the gentleman's name?"
"Count Eulenfurst."
"You had better give me a draught of wine, before I start. I feel shaken, and it is possible that riding may set my wound bleeding again."
Having drunk a goblet of wine, Fergus went down and mounted his horse. As he did so, he said to one of the men: "Take a lantern, and go down to the spot where the road hither turns off from the main road. A surgeon will be here in half an hour, or perhaps in twenty minutes. He will be on the lookout for you and your lantern."
Events had passed quickly, and the church bell chimed a quarter to eleven as he rode through the streets of Dresden. In three minutes he drew up at the entrance to the royal quarters. As he dismounted, Karl came out.
"Keep the horse here, Karl," he said. "It may be wanted in a minute or two again."
"Are you hurt, sir?" the man asked as he dismounted, for he saw his face by the light of the torches on each side of the gateway.
"It is only a flesh wound, and of no consequence; but I have lost a good deal of blood."
He made his way up the staircase to the marshal's quarters. He was feeling dizzy and faint, now.
"Is the marshal in his room?" he asked.
"He is in, sir, but--" "I would speak to him immediately. 'Tis a most urgent matter."
The servant went in, a moment later held the door open, and said: "Will you enter, sir?"
Fergus entered, and made the usual formal salute to the marshal. Two or three other officers were in the room, but he did not heed who they were, nor hear the exclamations of surprise that broke out at his appearance.
"I beg to report, sir, that the house of the Count Eulenfurst has been attacked by marauders, belonging to one of the Pomeranian regiments. The count is desperately wounded, and I pray that a surgeon may be sent instantly to his aid. The house stands back from the road, about half a mile from the north gate. A man with a lantern will be standing in the road to guide him to it. My horse is at the door below, in readiness to take him. I pray you to allow me to retire."
He swayed and would have fallen, had not the marshal and one of the others present caught him, and laid him down on a couch.
"He is wounded, marshal," the other officer said. "This sleeve is saturated with blood."
The marshal raised his voice, and called an attendant: "Run to the quarters of staff surgeon Schmidt, and ask him to come here immediately, and to bring another of his staff with him, if there is one in."
In two minutes the king's chief surgeon entered, followed by another of his staff.
"First look to the wound of Cornet Drummond," the marshal said. "It is in the arm, and I trust that he has only fainted from loss of blood."
The surgeons examined the wound.
"It is in no way serious, marshal. As you say, he has fainted from loss of blood. He must have neglected it for some time. Had it been bandaged at once, it would only have had the consequence of disabling his arm for a fortnight or so."
The assistant had already hurried away to get lint and bandages. Another voice now spoke.
"Surgeon Schmidt, you will please at once mount Mr. Drummond's horse, which is standing at the door. Ride out through the north gate. When you have gone about half a mile you will see a man with a lantern. He will lead you to the house of Count Eulenfurst, who has been grievously wounded by some marauders. Surgeon Morfen will follow you, as soon as he has bandaged Mr. Drummond's wounds. There may be more wounded there who may need your care.
"Major Armfeldt, will you order a horse to be brought round at once for the surgeon, then hurry to the barracks. Order the colonel to turn out a troop of horse instantly, and let him scour the country between the north gate and the camp, and arrest every straggler he comes across."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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4
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: Promotion.
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As soon as the bandage was applied and the flow of blood ceased, a few spoonfuls of wine were poured down the patient's throat. It was not long before he opened his eyes and struggled into a sitting position.
"I beg pardon, sir," he said faintly, as his eyes fell on the marshal, who was standing just in front of him. "I am sorry that I came into your apartments in this state, but it seemed to me--" "You did quite right, sir," said a sharp voice that he at once recognized, while the speaker put his hand upon his shoulder, to prevent him from trying to rise. "You were quite right to bring the news here at once of this outrage; which, by heavens, shall be punished as it deserves. Now drink a cup of wine, and then perhaps you will be able to tell us a little more about it. Now don't be in a hurry, but obey my orders."
Fergus drank off the wine; then, after waiting a minute or two, said: "Count Eulenfurst is sorely wounded, sire, but I cannot say whether mortally or not. When I came away, he was still lying insensible. His wife and daughter are, happily, uninjured."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
"Yes, sire, the six menservants who were sleeping in the house were all killed--four in their beds, two while hastening from below to assist their master."
The king gave an exclamation of fury.
"You said these men belonged to a Pomeranian regiment. Had they left before you got there? But I suppose not, or else you would not have been wounded. How was it that you heard of the attack?"
"I had carried a despatch from the marshal to the camp, sire, and was on my way back when I heard a pistol shot. The sound was faint, for it came from a house a quarter of a mile away, and was fired indoors; but the night was still, and fortunately some of the windows were open. Thinking that some evil work was being done, I rode straight for it, climbed the wall and, making my way on foot to the house, happily arrived in time."
"You saw the fellows, then? How was it that they suffered you to escape with your life? They must have known that your evidence would hang them all."
"There were but six of them, sire; and they will need no hanging, for they are all disposed of. Though had it not been for the assistance of a brave servant maid, who threw herself upon the back of one of them, my career would certainly have been terminated."
"But who had you with you to help you?" the king asked.
"I had no one but the maid, sire."
"Do you mean to say, Mr. Drummond, that with your own hand you slew the whole of the six villains?"
"That was so, sire; but in respect to the one thrown down by the girl, I had but to blow out his brains before he could gain his feet."
"Can you give us the particulars?" the king asked quietly. "If you do not feel equal to it, we will wait till morning."
"I can tell you now, sire. I am feeling better and stronger."
And he related the incidents of the fight.
"One with his pistol, Keith," the king said. "Four with his sword, after his left hand was disabled, to say nothing of the sixth.
"That is not a bad beginning for this aide-de-camp, gentlemen."
"No, indeed, sire. It is a most gallant deed, though it was well for him that he was able to dispose of the first three before the others appeared on the scene."
"It was a most gallant action, indeed," the king repeated; and a hearty assent was given by the general officers standing round.
"I congratulate you on your aide-de-camp, Keith," he went on. "A man capable of killing, single handed, six of my Pomeranians is a treasure. Do you see that his commission as lieutenant is given me tomorrow to sign.
"No, sit still, young sir. It is I who have to thank you, for so promptly punishing these marauders, who would have brought disgrace upon my army; and not you who have to thank me. Now, be off to your bed."
Two of the attendants were called in, and these assisted Fergus, who was almost too weak to stand, to the apartment that he shared with Lindsay. Keith himself accompanied them. Lindsay leapt out of bed as they entered.
"Don't ask any questions, Lindsay," the marshal said. "Drummond has performed a very gallant action, and has been wounded and, as you see, can scarce stand from loss of blood. He will be asleep as soon as he lies down. You will hear all about it, in the morning."
The marshal then returned to his apartment. The king was on the point of leaving.
"I have left orders," he said, "that as soon as either of the surgeons returns, I am to be wakened and informed of the state of Count Eulenfurst. He is a nobleman of distinction and character; though, I believe, in no great favour at the court here since he resigned his seat on the council, because he disapproved of the resources of the state being wasted in extravagance, instead of being spent in maintaining the army in proper condition. Should he die, it will cause an extremely bad impression throughout Saxony."
At daybreak the next morning, finding that the surgeons had not returned, Keith despatched an officer to request them to furnish him, at once, with a written report of the state of the count. He returned in three-quarters of an hour, saying that the count had just recovered consciousness; that two of his wounds were serious, and the other very grave; but that having probed it, they were of opinion that it might not prove fatal. The countess was completely prostrated, and had gone from one fainting fit into another, and required more attention than her husband. The rest of the household were uninjured.
Lindsay got up quietly and dressed without awaking Fergus. He was disappointed at a despatch being at once handed to him to carry to the Prince of Brunswick's army, which was ten miles away; and was therefore obliged to mount and ride off, without obtaining any news whatever as to the nature of Drummond's adventure. As he passed through the camp of the Pomeranians, he saw the bodies of six soldiers swinging from the bough of a tree, close to the camp. He rode a little out of his way to discover the cause of this strange spectacle. In front of them was erected a large placard of canvas, with the words painted upon it: "Marauders killed in the commission of crime, and their bodies hung by order of the king, as a lesson to anyone who ventures to break the law against plundering."
Then he rode on his way, and did not return until one o'clock. The marshal was occupied. He therefore simply handed in the reply to the despatch that he had carried, and immediately retired.
"Is Mr. Drummond up?" he asked one of the attendants.
"He is still in his room, sir. His servant is with him, and he is taking food."
He went straight to the room. Fergus was sitting up in a chair, eating a basin of strong chicken broth.
"This is a nice hour to be breakfasting, Lindsay," he said with a smile. "I feel quite ashamed of myself, I can tell you; but I am under orders. The doctor came here half an hour ago. I had just woke and got out of bed, and was going to dress, when he told me that I was not to do so. I might sit up to take breakfast, but was to keep perfectly quiet for the rest of the day. He said I only needed feeding up, that he would send me some strong broth, and three hours later I was to have some soup and a pint of Burgundy; and that if I obeyed his instructions, and ate and drank well, I should be able to leave my room tomorrow; though of course, I should not be fit for active service till my arm began to heal."
"But what is it all about, Drummond? I was sent off to Brunswick's camp, as soon as I got up, and have heard nothing about it; and the marshal forbade me to speak to you, when you were brought in last night. He merely said that you had done a very gallant action."
"There was nothing very gallant in it, Lindsay; but it turned out very fortunate."
Then he gave a very brief account of the previous evening's events.
"Well I should call that a gallant action, Drummond, if you don't. It is no joke for one man to tackle six, and those not ordinary marauders but Pomeranian soldiers. Of course, it was somewhat lucky that you had rid yourself of three of them, before the other three entered the room; and had it not been, as you say, for that girl, things might have turned out differently. Still, that does not affect the matter. It was a gallant business.
"What happened when you came in?"
"I don't know much about what happened. At first I made some sort of report to the marshal, and then I believe I fainted. When I came to, I found that they had bandaged up my shoulder, and poured some wine down my throat. I felt very shaky at first, but I know that I drank some wine, and was then able to give some sort of account of what had happened. The king was there, then, and asked me questions; but whether or not he was there, at first, I cannot say. I have a vague idea that he told the marshal, too, that he promoted me; but I am not quite sure about that, nor do I know how I got here."
"Well, if you are not mistaken about your step, I congratulate you most heartily. It is seldom, indeed, that anyone gains one in six weeks after his first appointment. I thought myself lucky, indeed, in getting it after serving only two years and a half; but I got it simply on nomination as one of the marshal's aides-de-camp. It is customary to get promotion, on such appointment, if there has been two or three years' previous service.
"Well, you have drawn the first blood in this campaign, Drummond; and have not been long in giving very striking proof that your month's hard work in the fencing school has not been thrown away."
The conversation was broken off by the entry of the marshal, himself.
"Pooh, pooh, Fergus!" he said, as the latter rose, "there is no occasion for saluting in a bedroom. I am glad to see you looking so much better. You could not have looked more ghastly, when you came in yesterday evening, if you had been your own wraith.
"There, lad," he said, handing him a parchment. "It is not usual to have a new commission on promotion, but the king told me that he had had it done, in the present case, in order that you might have a record of the exploit for which you have been promoted. You will see it is set down inside that, although but six weeks in service, you were promoted to the rank of lieutenant for a deed of extraordinary gallantry. You had attacked and killed, with your own hand, six marauding soldiers; who had entered the chateau of Count Eulenfurst, well-nigh murdered the count, killed six of his servants, and were occupied in plundering the house. In token of his thankfulness, that the life of so distinguished and enlightened a nobleman had been saved by you; as well as of approbation for the gallantry of your conduct, his majesty promoted you to the rank of lieutenant.
"You should keep that paper, Fergus, and pass it down to your descendants, as an heirloom. I congratulate you, my boy, with all my heart; and feel some satisfaction on my own account, for such an action as this shows those who are inclined to grumble, at what they may consider the favour shown to Scotchmen, that at any rate the favour is not misplaced. A general order to the army has been issued this morning saying that, some scoundrels, having disgraced their uniform and brought discredit upon the army, by a murderous and wicked attack upon the house of Count Eulenfurst, the king reiterates and confirms his previous order that any man caught when engaged in pillaging, or upon whose person any stolen goods are found, will be summarily hung by the provost marshal, or by any general officer before whom he may be brought.
"The king himself has ridden to the count's chateau, this morning, to make personal inquiries into his state, and to express his deep regret at the outrage that has taken place. It is a politic action, as well as a kind one. Of course, the event has occasioned great excitement in the city."
"And may I ask how the count is going on, sir?"
"The last report of the surgeons is a favourable one. He has partly recovered consciousness, and at any rate recognizes his daughter, who has divided her time between his bedside and her mother's. The latter has fallen into a deep sleep of exhaustion; but will, I doubt not, recover. The girl came down into the hall when the king called. She bore herself well, they tell me, and would have retained her composure, had it not been for the king himself. She came down the grand staircase, with four of her maids behind her--for a notice had been sent, half an hour before of his coming--prepared, no doubt, to meet a stiff and haughty king; but though Frederick can be every inch a king, when he chooses, there is, as you know, no kinder-hearted man alive.
"He went forward bare-headed to meet her and, as she stopped and curtsied low, he took her two hands and said: "'My poor child, I am sorry, more sorry than I can tell you, for what has happened; and hope with all my heart that your father, whom all respect and honour, will not be taken from you. No doubt you look upon me as an enemy; but although compelled to come here, because your king is leagued with those who intend to destroy me and my country, I bear no ill will to the people; and have given the strictest orders that my soldiers shall, in all respects, treat them as firm friends. But unfortunately, there are scoundrels everywhere. These men have been punished as they deserved, and the whole army will join with me in deep regret at what has happened, and in the fervent hope that your father's life will be spared. I grieve, too, to hear that the countess, your mother, has suffered so greatly from the shock; and hope soon to be able to express to her, in person, the regret I feel for what has taken place.'
"The kindness of his tone, in saying all this, broke her down more than the words of the king. He saw that she was unable to speak. " 'There, there, child,' he said. 'I know what you are feeling, and that you are longing to go upstairs again, so I will say goodbye. Keep up a brave heart. The surgeons have every hope that your father will recover. And believe that you will always have a friend in Frederick of Prussia.'
"He kissed her on the cheek, and then turned and left the hall, followed by his staff."
Three days later the doctors were able to say confidently that, unless some change occurred for the worse, they believed the count would recover. On the fourth day, Fergus was sufficiently well to mount his horse. The countess and her daughter had repeatedly asked after him, and expressed their desire that he would come over, as soon as he was well enough to do so.
One of the aides-de-camp had gone over, twice a day, to inquire as to the progress the count was making. A guard had been placed at the gate, and an officer stationed there to receive the names of the stream of visitors from the city, and to inform them that the count was making satisfactory progress. By the doctor's orders, even the count's most intimate friends were refused admission, as absolute quiet was needed.
Fergus dismounted at the gate, and walked up to the house. The maid who opened the door recognized him at once.
"Will you come in, sir?" she said, with a beaming face. "I will tell the young countess you are here; and she will, I am sure, see you."
A minute later, the girl ran down the stairs. As she came forward she stopped, with sudden shyness. Absorbed in her anxiety for her father and mother, she had taken but little heed of the appearance of the officer who had saved them. That he was kind as well as brave she was sure for, although he had scarce spoken to her, the gentleness with which he had moved her father and her mother from the bloodstained room, and the promptness and decision with which he had given his orders, had inspired her with absolute confidence in him. She had a vague idea that he was young, but his face, flecked here and there with blood, had left but a faint impression upon her memory; and when she saw the young officer, in his spotless and imposing uniform, she almost felt that there must be some mistake.
"Are you Lieutenant Drummond, sir?" she asked timidly.
"I am, countess."
"Was it really you who saved us, the other night?"
"I had that good fortune," he said with a smile.
She took the hand he held out, wonderingly, and then suddenly burst into tears.
"Oh, sir," she said, "is it possible that you, who look so young, can be the one who came to our assistance, and killed those six evil men? It seems impossible.
"I have been so unhappy, since. I did not know that you were wounded until the maids told me, afterwards. I had never even asked. I let you go, without one word of thanks for all that you have done for us. What must you have thought of me?"
"I thought that you were a very courageous girl," Fergus said earnestly; "and that, after what you had gone through, the sight of your father as you believed dying, and your mother in such a state, you were wonderfully calm and composed. It would have been strange, indeed, had you thought of anything else at such a time."
"You are very good to say so, sir; but when I heard, from the surgeons you sent, that you had fainted from loss of blood after delivering your message, I felt that I should never forgive myself. You had thought so much of us, and not of yourself. You had gone about seeing to our comfort, and giving orders and arranging everything, and all the time you yourself needed aid."
"The wound was a mere trifle," he said, "and I scarce gave it a thought, myself, until I began to feel faint from loss of blood. I can assure you that the thought that you were ungrateful has never once entered my head."
"And now, will you please come up to see my mother, sir. She will be most anxiously expecting you."
They went upstairs together and, turning to the right on the top of the stairs, entered a pretty apartment that was evidently the countess's boudoir.
"This is our preserver, mother," the girl said, as she entered.
The countess, who was advancing towards the door, stopped in surprise. She had been able, from her daughter, to gain no idea of the age of their rescuer; but the maids had all asserted that he was quite young. As he was, for so the surgeons had told her, one of Marshal Keith's aides-de-camp, she had pictured to herself a fierce soldier; and the sight of this youth, with his smooth pleasant face, surprised her, indeed.
"Yes, mother, it is himself," the girl said. "I was as surprised as you are."
"I have no words to thank you, sir, for the most inestimable service which you have rendered us," the countess said warmly, as she held out her hand. "Assuredly my husband would have died, had aid been delayed but a few minutes. As to my daughter and myself, they would probably have killed us, to prevent our ever recognizing or giving evidence against them. They only spared our lives, for a time, in order to learn where our jewels were kept. This was but a comparative trifle, though the jewels are precious, and there are none more valuable in Saxony. I have no doubt that after stripping the house of its valuables they would have buried them, intending some day to recover them; and would then have fired the house, in order to conceal all evidence of the crime that had been committed. It seemed to me wonderful, before, that one man should, single handed, have attacked and slain them; but now that I see you, it seems almost a miracle that you performed in our favour."
"It was no great feat, madam. I have the good fortune to be a fair swordsman; and soldiers, although they may know their military drill, have little chance with one who can use his weapon well. Then, too, I had fortunately but three to deal with at a time; and even then, I should not have come off victorious had it not been for the courage of the maid, who ran boldly in, sprang on the back of one, and threw him to the ground, while he was waiting to get a steady aim at me with his pistol. I assuredly owe my life to her."
"The King of Prussia left twenty gold crowns for her, when he was here, saying that it was payment for saving the life of one of his officers; and you may be sure that we shall not be ungrateful to her. Your death would have involved that of my husband, and us. The king also ordered that inquiry should be made as to whether our men who were killed had families dependent upon them; and that if so, pensions were to be given to these, as their loss had been occasioned by the evil deeds of some of his soldiers. It was very thoughtful and kind, and my daughter seems quite to have fallen in love with him.
"I hope that in a few days my husband will be able to see you. He does not know that you are here. If he did, I am sure that he would wish to see you now; but the surgeons have insisted so strongly on absolute quiet, that I dare not let him hear of your coming."
"I am delighted to learn that he is going on so well, madame. I sincerely trust that he will not long remain an invalid."
"I suppose you would not have recognized me?" the countess asked.
"I should not, indeed. Of course, I could do nothing to aid you, and was chiefly occupied by the count. But indeed, you were then so pale that I might well be excused for not knowing you again."
The countess was a very handsome woman, of some seven or eight and thirty, with a noble figure and a gracious air; and bore no resemblance to the almost distraught woman, with her hair falling over her face, whom he had seen before.
"I am not a coward, Mr. Drummond," she said, "and when those villains first ran in and attacked my husband, I struggled desperately with the two who seized me; until I saw him drop, as I believed, dead. Then my strength suddenly left me, and I should have fallen to the ground, had the men not thrown me back into the chair. I have a vague recollection of seeing Thirza, who had retired for the night but a minute or two previously, carried in bound and gagged. They asked me several questions, but I could not reply; and I think they learned from the frightened servants where the family jewels were kept. The clashing of swords and the firing of pistols roused me a little, and after it was all over, and I heard you say that my husband was still living, my heart gave one bound, and I knew nothing more of what happened until next day."
After chatting for a short time longer Fergus took his leave, well pleased to have got through a visit he had somewhat dreaded.
The king remained for nearly a month at Dresden, engaged in carrying on negotiations with the Elector. By this delay he lost most of the advantages that his sudden movement had given him; but he was most anxious to detach Saxony and Poland from the confederacy against him, as he would then be able to turn his attention wholly to Austria, aided by the Saxons, while the Poles would aid his army in the east to keep the Russians in check. The Elector of Saxony--who was also King of Poland--however, was only negotiating in order to give time for Austria to gather an army in Bohemia; and so to relieve the Saxons, who were watched by the eastern column, which had crossed the defiles into Bohemia and taken post near Koeniggraetz; while that of Prince Maurice of Brunswick pushed forward farther, to threaten their line of retreat from the west.
The king at last became convinced that the King of Poland was but trifling with him, and in the last week of September started to take the command of the centre, which was facing the entrance to the defile, at Pirna. Marshal Keith had been sent, a week after Fergus was wounded, to assume the command of the western column, hitherto commanded by Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick.
Fergus remained behind for ten days, at the end of which time he felt perfectly fit for service again. He still carried his arm in a sling, but a generous diet and good wine had filled his veins again, and upon the day the king left he rode with Karl to rejoin the marshal.
He had been several times over to the chateau, and had on the last occasion seen the count; who, although still terribly weak, was now out of danger, and able to sit on a couch, propped up by pillows. His thanks were as earnest as those of the countess had been and, having heard that Fergus was to start on the following morning to join the army on the frontier, he said to him: "There is no saying how far your king may carry his arms, nor where you may find yourself. The countess will, therefore, write letters addressed to intimate friends at various large towns; telling them that you have placed us under a vast obligation, and praying them to do, for our sake, all in their power for you, under whatever circumstances you may arrive there. She will write them on small pieces of paper, each with its name and address on the back, so that they will make a small and compact packet, not much bigger than an ordinary letter.
"I trust that when you return to Dresden, lieutenant, I shall be able, myself, to do my best to prove my gratitude for your services."
After taking leave of the count, his wife, and daughter, Fergus rode back to the royal quarters. As Karl took his horse, he said: "Herr lieutenant, I know not how we are going to manage."
"In what way, Karl?"
"Two magnificent horses, complete with saddlery, holsters, and pistols, arrived here half an hour since. The man who brought them said they were from Count Eulenfurst, and handed me this note: "'Pray accept the horses we send you, as a feeble token of our gratitude. May they, by their speed and staunchness, carry you unharmed through dangers well nigh as great as those you faced for us.'"
Fergus walked by the side of the soldier as he led the horse round to the stable.
"There, sir," Karl said, pointing to a pair of splendid animals; "they are fit for a king." " 'Tis a noble gift, and indeed, I doubt whether the king himself has such horses in his stables. The question is, what is to be done with them? My present charger is an excellent one and, as a gift of the marshal, I could not part with it. As to the others, it is out of the question that I can take both. It would be altogether contrary to rules. I am entitled to forage for two horses--that is, when forage is to be had.
"Ah! I see what had best be done. Come to my room with me. I will give you a letter to the count."
He wrote as follows: "Dear Count Eulenfurst, "I cannot refuse the noble gift that you have made me, and thank you and the countess for it, with all my heart. At present, however, it places me in a difficulty. Aides-de-camp are allowed to take only two horses; indeed, my orderly could not take with him more than one led horse. The animal I have was the gift of Marshal Keith. That being so, you will see that I could not part with it. The only solution, therefore, that occurs to me is to beg you to add to your kindness, by taking care of the one that I send back to you by the bearer, until I return to Dresden; or find means to send for it, in the event of one of the others being killed.
"The only fault with your gifts is that they ought to be kept for state reviews, or grand occasions; for it seems wrong to take such noble creatures into the midst of a heavy fire. I am sure that I shall feel more nervous, lest a ball should injure my horse, than I shall do for my own safety."
When he had folded and sealed this, he handed it to Karl, who had followed shortly after him.
"I am sending back one of the horses, Karl, and asking the count to take care of it for me, until I return or send for it. Do you see any difference between them?"
"It would be hard to pick the best, lieutenant. They both struck me as being perfect in all points--both are four years old."
"Well then, you must take one at random, Karl. Had one been better than the other, I should have left it behind. As it is, take whichever you choose."
"The man who brought them told me, sir, that both were bred on the count's estates; and that he prided himself on having some of the best blood in Europe, both for beauty and stamina. He thought this pair were the pick of the stables."
"I almost wish I could leave them both behind, but I could not do so without hurting the feelings of the count and countess. But they are too good for an aide-de-camp's work."
"I don't think anything can be too good for that, sir. An aide-de-camp wants a horse that will stop at nothing; and sometimes he has to ride for his life, pursued by the enemy's cavalry. You will be the envy of the division, on one of those horses."
Karl returned an hour later with a message from the countess, saying that she could not disturb her husband, who was then resting, but that she understood Mr. Drummond's difficulty, and they should be very glad to take care of the horse for him, until he wanted it.
"You did not see the countess, I suppose, Karl?"
"Yes, sir, I saw her. She had me taken upstairs to her room. She asked if I was your servant, and when I said yes, she told me that she hoped I would take great care of you. I said that was my duty. " 'Nevertheless, do more than your duty,' she said. 'His life is a very precious one to us. " 'Is it not, Thirza?'
"The young lady nodded. " 'Here are five gold crowns for yourself,' she went on, handing me the money. 'They may help to make your bivouac more comfortable. " 'And now,' she said, 'there is something else, but I do not wish you to tell your master.'
"What am I to do, your honour?"
"You had better keep it to yourself, Karl," Fergus laughed. "I daresay I shall hear of it, someday."
"Very well, lieutenant, then that is all there is to report."
The next morning Fergus started early. Two days previously, a Prussian governor had been appointed to Dresden, and three thousand men were left under his command. Similar appointments were also made to all the fortified towns in Saxony; for now that the negotiations were broken off, and the King of Poland had declared finally for the Confederates, Saxony was to be treated as a conquered country. Nevertheless, strict injunctions were given that all cattle, wheat, and other provisions taken for the use of the garrisons, or for storing up in fortresses whence it might be forwarded to the army, were to be paid for; and that any act of pillage or ill treatment was to be most severely punished, as the king was still most anxious to gain the goodwill of the mass of the population.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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5
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: Lobositz.
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In Dresden itself, the feeling was far from hostile to the invaders. The discontent with the vicious government had been extreme, and the imposts now levied were less onerous than those which had been wasted in profusion and extravagance. The conduct of the troops had been admirable; and in the case of Count Eulenfurst, the personal visit of the king to express his regrets, and his generosity to the families of the servants, had produced a most excellent effect.
As Fergus rode into the camp, mounted on his new acquisition, it at once caught the marshal's eye.
"Why, Fergus," he exclaimed, "have you been robbing the King of Poland's stables? That is a noble animal, indeed."
"It was a present from Count Eulenfurst, marshal," Fergus replied. "He sent me two, but one of them he is going to keep for me until I return; for I could not part with Rollo, who is as good a horse as anyone can wish to ride; and I know his paces."
"You are right, lad, for it is always well to accustom yourself to a horse, before you want to use it in action; but in faith, it will be a pity to ride such a horse as that through the heat of a battle."
"I feel that, sir; but as the count, in his letter with the horses, said that he hoped they would carry me safely through dangers as grave as those I had encountered at his house, I feel that he would be hurt if, on my return, I admitted to him that I had saved it for show occasions."
"You are right," Keith said approvingly; "but that is the more reason that you should accustom yourself to it, before you use it for such work; as horse and rider should be as one on the field of battle and, unless the horse has absolute confidence in its rider, it is very difficult to keep it steady under fire."
"I suppose we shall not see the king for some time, marshal," Fergus said later, as Keith was chatting with him.
"On the contrary, he will be with us tomorrow. He rides today to have another look at the Saxon position, and to give his orders there. He will, tomorrow morning, join us. It is we who are likely to have the first fighting; for the Austrians must come to the relief of the Saxons, who are shut up, as in a trap, by our divisions. They made a great mistake in not retiring, at once, into Bohemia; which they could have done without difficulty, had they lost no time.
"There is no greater mistake than shutting a large force up, either in a fortress or an intrenched camp, unless that fortress is an absolute obstacle to an enemy. This is not the case with Pirna. The mountains can be crossed at many other points and, by leaving five or six thousand men in a strong position at the end of each defile, we could disregard them altogether, and march on southward. They have already been three weeks there, and we believe that they cannot hold out very much longer. However, it is probable that they may be able to do so until an Austrian force comes up, and tries to relieve them.
"From what we hear, two armies have already entered Bohemia, and we may expect that our first battle will not be far distant."
"Do we block the only line of retreat, sir?" Fergus asked.
"No, indeed. We do not absolutely close the direct road, but our position, and that of Marshal Schwerin facing Koeniggraetz, so menaces their line of retreat that they dare not venture from their shelter; and our cavalry render it impossible for any supplies to be thrown in, unless the convoy is supported by an army. There are, we know, paths across the hills by which infantry might effect a passage; but as there is nowhere a place for them to retire to, we should easily overtake them and force them to surrender.
"No, their only hope is in the coming of relief."
A few hours later, the king himself rode in. In the evening, orders were issued that a force of cavalry and infantry were to march at daylight, and that the rest of the army were to follow, two hours later. It was soon known that the king had received news that Marshal Browne--an Irish officer of great distinction, who commanded the Austrian force gathered at Budin, on the Eger--was expecting the arrival of artillery and pontoons from Vienna, in the course of a day or two, and was preparing to cross the river. It was evident, then, that his intention was to relieve the Saxon army, in the first place.
The roads through the defiles were very heavy and difficult, but that afternoon the advance force reached Termitz. Late in the evening the rest of the army arrived there.
A squadron of cavalry had been sent off, as soon as the vanguard arrived, to ascertain the movements of the enemy; and they returned, at ten at night, with information that the Austrians had crossed the Eger that day, and were to encamp at Lobositz. The army at once moved on across the mountains and, after a very difficult and fatiguing march, arrived near Lobositz; and lay down for some hours in the order in which they had marched, taking up their position as soon as it was light.
[Map: Battle of Lobositz] The infantry were in two lines. Their left was posted on a steep hill known as the Lobosch, part of whose lower slopes extended to the village of Lobositz. A battery, with infantry supports, took post on a hill called Homolka, which commanded the whole plain between the two armies. The centre stretched across the valley between those hills.
On the low hill on which stood the little town, the Austrians had thrown up intrenchments, and posted a very strong artillery force, whose fire would sweep a greater portion of the Prussian position. Except at this point, the ground between the two armies was low and swampy. The Austrian force was greatly superior in numbers, consisting of 72 squadrons of horse, 52 battalions of infantry, and 98 guns; while the Prussians had 55 squadrons, 26 battalions, and 102 guns.
It was evident to both commanders that the village of Lobositz was the decisive point; and indeed, the nature of the ground was such as to render operations almost impossible, in the marshy plain intersected by rivulets, which in many places formed large ponds.
At seven in the morning the Prussian action began by a heavy fire between the left, on the slopes of Lobosch, and 4000 Croats and several battalions of Hungarians, scattered among the vineyards and the stone walls dividing them. A heavy fog covered the whole country and, until a full view could be obtained of the position of the enemy, neither of the commanders deemed it prudent to move.
At twelve o'clock, however, the fog began to clear up. The main body of the Austrians was still invisible; and the king, seeing but a comparatively small force in the plain near Lobositz, thought that this must be the rear guard of the Austrians; who, he imagined, having found the line by which they intended to succour the Saxons occupied in force, had retired, having thrown up batteries and left a strong force at Lobositz, to prevent the Prussians from advancing.
To ascertain this, twenty squadrons of cavalry were ordered to advance; but on doing so, they were received by so tremendous a fire from the batteries of the village, and from others at Sulowitz, another village in the plain on their right, that they fell back with much loss, pursued by the Austrian cavalry. By the time they had resumed their positions behind the infantry, the fog had entirely lifted; and the king and Marshal Keith obtained a full view of the Austrian position, from the spot where they had stationed themselves on the hill. They agreed that no attack could be made against the enemy's centre or left, and that they could be assailed only on their right.
The troops on the Lobosch Hill were, therefore, largely reinforced; and the whole army advanced, inclining towards the left so as to attack Lobositz from the side of the plain, as well as from that of the mountain. A tremendous artillery fire, from the guns on the hills, heralded the advance.
The troops on the Lobosch Hill made their way forward rapidly. The ground was so steep that they commanded a view down into the vineyard, and their fire was so heavy that the Croats and Hungarians fell, as fast as they raised their heads above the stone walls to fire; and although General Browne reinforced them by some of the best Austrian infantry, they were rapidly driven down towards Lobositz. At the foot of the hill they were supported by several more battalions, brought from the Austrian centre. General Lacy, who commanded these, was wounded.
The Prussians halted at the foot of the slope and were reformed; having fallen into some disorder, from the irregular nature of the ground over which they had been fighting. The guns were brought forward, so as to cover their next advance; while a very strong force was sent to support the batteries on the Homolka Hill, so as to check the enemy's centre and left, should they attempt any movement across the plain.
In the meantime, Marshal Browne was reinforcing the defenders of Lobositz with the whole of his right wing. The village was defended with desperate bravery but, owing to the position, the king was able to reinforce the assailants very much more rapidly than the Austrian commander could bring up his distant troops. The Prussian artillery concentrated their fire upon the place, and set it in flames from end to end; when its defenders were forced to abandon it, and retreat with precipitation on their cavalry.
In order to cover their withdrawal, the Austrian left moved down to the village of Sulowitz, and endeavoured to pass the dam over a marshy rivulet in front of it; but the fire from the battery on the Homolka rendered it impossible for them to form, and also set that village on fire, and they were therefore called back. The Austrian centre moved to its right, and occupied the ground behind Lobositz as soon as the defenders of the village had fallen back, and then Marshal Browne formed up his whole force afresh.
His position was now as strong as it had been when the battle first began, for the Prussians could not advance except between the swampy ground and the river; and would have been exposed, while doing so, to the fire of batteries both in front and in flank. The Austrians were still greatly superior in numbers, and all the advantages that had been gained might have been lost by a renewal of the action. The total loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners on the part of the Austrians was 3308. That of the Prussians was about the same.
Although indecisive--and indeed, claimed as a victory by both parties--the consequences showed that the advantage lay with the Prussians. Marshal Browne's object had been to relieve the Saxons, Frederick's to prevent this; and for the moment he had wholly succeeded.
On the other hand was the fact that Marshal Browne had drawn off his army practically intact, and that it was impossible for the king to winter in Bohemia, as he would have done had the Austrian army been defeated and dispersed; and the latter were still in a position to make a fresh attempt to rescue the Saxons.
To prevent this, the king despatched the Duke of Bevern with a large force, as if to get between the Austrians and the river Eger. This movement had the desired effect. Marshal Browne at once fell back, recrossed the river, and took up his position at his former camp at Budin. From there he opened communications with the Saxons, and it was arranged that these should pass the Elbe; and that he, with 8000 men, should also do so, and march to meet them.
The Saxons, however, were detained, owing to the terrible weather and the enormous difficulty of the defiles, and only crossed on the 13th. In the meantime the Prussians had taken up positions to cut off the Saxon retreat, and after crossing they found themselves hemmed in, and the roads so commanded by newly-erected batteries that, being utterly exhausted by fatigue and hardships, they had no resource but to surrender.
The terms enforced were hard. The officers were allowed to depart, on giving their parole not to serve again, but the whole of the rank and file were incorporated in the Prussian army.
Fergus Drummond and Lindsay stood by their horses, with the other members of the staff, some short distance behind the king and Marshal Keith, as they anxiously endeavoured to discover the whereabouts and intentions of the Austrian army; while the crack of musketry, between the Croats and the troops who were gradually pressing them down the hill, continued unabated.
"This is slow work, Drummond," Lindsay said, as hour after hour passed. "I should not like to have anything to do with the king, just at present. It is easy to see how fidgety he is, and no wonder. For aught we know there may be only three or four thousand men facing us and, while we are waiting here, the whole Austrian army may have crossed over again, and be marching up the river bank to form a junction with the Saxons; or they may have gone by the defiles we traversed the last two days, and may come down into Saxony and fall on the rear of our camp watching Pirna, while the Saxons are attacking in front. No wonder his majesty paces backwards and forwards like a wild beast in a cage."
From time to time an aide-de-camp was sent off, with some order involving the movement of a battalion farther to the right or left, and the addition of a few guns to the battery on Homolka Hill. Fergus had taken his turn in carrying the orders. He had, two days before, abandoned his sling; and scarcely felt any inconvenience from the wound, which indeed would have been of slight consequence, had it not been for the excessive loss of blood.
"These movements mean nothing," Lindsay said, as he returned from one of these rides. "The marshal makes the changes simply for the sake of doing something--partly, perhaps, to take the king's attention off this confounded delay; partly to interest the troops, who must be just as restless and impatient as we are."
The messages were taken, alternately, by the king's aides-de-camp and the marshal's.
At length, as the fog began to lift, the interest in the scene heightened. The king and Keith talked long and earnestly together, as they watched the village of Lobositz.
"They have got some strong batteries there," Lindsay said; "but as far as one can see, there does not appear to be any large body of troops. I suppose it is meant that the troops on the slopes shall retire there, and make a strong stand. I am bound to say that it looks very much as if Browne had only left a strong guard here, to keep us from issuing from this defile; and that his whole army moved away last night, and may now be some thirty miles away, on their march towards Saxony."
As the fog lifted still more they could see the stream running right across the plain, and the little village of Sulowitz on its bank, apparently still and deserted. Presently Keith wrote an order on a tablet, and Lindsay was sent off with it, to the general commanding the cavalry.
"Something is going to be done at last, Drummond," he said, as he mounted. "It is an order to the cavalry."
An order was then despatched to the battery on Homolka Hill, and to the batteries on the left. Two more battalions of infantry then moved up, to press the Croats more quickly down the hill.
Fergus watched Lindsay, and saw him ride up to the general. Several officers at once galloped off. There was a movement among the cavalry, and then twenty squadrons passed out through the intervals between the brigades of infantry, and trotted out through the mouth of the valley. They went on without interruption, until abreast of Lobositz; and then a great number of men ran suddenly up, from the houses of the village, to the batteries.
A minute later some thirty guns poured their fire into the Prussian cavalry; while at the same moment the guns of a heavy battery, hitherto unseen, poured in their fire from Sulowitz on their left flank; while from rising ground, not visible behind it, came the roar of thirty more pieces.
So rapidly had the aides-de-camp been sent off, that Fergus was the only one remaining available. The king spoke a few words to the marshal, and then said to Fergus: "Ride, sir, with my orders to the officer commanding the cavalry out there, and tell him to retire at once."
Fergus ran back to where Karl was holding his horse.
"Follow me, Karl," he said, as he sprang into the saddle; and then rode rapidly down the steep hill and, as soon as he reached the valley, dashed off at a headlong gallop.
"I have orders, Karl, to recall the cavalry, who will be destroyed unless they return. Should I fall, carry the order to their commander."
The din was now prodigious. The whole of the Prussian batteries had opened on Lobositz and Sulowitz, and between the thunder of the guns came the incessant crackling of musketry on the hill to his right.
Passing through the infantry, Fergus dashed across the plain. He was mounted on the horse the marshal had given him, as the other was not yet accustomed to stand fire. The noble animal, as if delighted to be on level ground again, and excited by the roar of battle, carried him along at the top of its speed without any need of urging. Fergus knew that on the heights behind the king and Keith would be anxiously watching him, for the peril of the cavalry was great; and the concussion of the guns was now causing the fog to lift rapidly and, as he rode, he could dimly make out dark masses of men all along the rising ground behind Sulowitz, and knew that the Austrian cavalry might, at any moment, sweep down on the Prussians.
He was drawing abreast of Lobositz, when suddenly a squadron of cavalry dashed out from the village. Their object was evidently to cut him off, and prevent any message that he might bear reaching the Prussian cavalry, which were now halted half a mile ahead. Their officers were endeavouring to reform them from the confusion into which they had fallen, from the speed at which they had ridden and the heavy losses they had sustained.
He saw, at once, that the Austrians would cross his line, and reined in his horse to allow Karl to come up to him. Had not the trooper been exceptionally well mounted, he would have been left far behind. As it was, while pressing his charger to the utmost, he was still some fifty yards in rear of Fergus.
As soon as he came up, the latter said: "We must cut our way through the Austrians. Ride close to me. We will ease our horses a little, until we are within fifty yards, and then go at them at full speed. If I fall and you get through, carry the orders to retire to the general commanding the cavalry."
The Austrian cavalry had formed up in two troops, one twenty yards behind the other, and each in line two deep, extending across the road by which Fergus was riding. Seeing, by the speed at which he was travelling, that the Prussian staff officer had no intention of surrendering, the Austrian in command gave the order to charge, when they were some fifty yards away.
"Now, Karl, boot to boot. Go right at them!"
And with pistols in their left hands, and their swords in their right, they sent their horses at full speed against the enemy. These had scarcely got into motion when, like a thunderbolt, Fergus and his orderly burst down upon them.
[Illusgtration: Not a blow was struck, horse and rider went down before them] The shock was irresistible. Their horses were much heavier and more powerful than those of the Austrians, and their weight and impetus carried all before them. Not a blow was struck. Horse and rider went down before them, or were swept aside. They were scarcely conscious that they were through, before they encountered the second line.
Here the fight was much more severe. Fergus cut down two of his opponents and, with a pistol shot, rid Karl of an antagonist who was pressing him hard; and after a minute of wild confusion they were through the line, and riding at headlong speed towards the Prussians. Pistols cracked out behind them, but before the Austrians had time to turn and aim they were already fifty yards away, and going at a speed that soon left their pursuers behind. As soon as the latter saw this they drew off, and trotted back to Lobositz.
Fergus rode up to the officer commanding the cavalry.
"I bear the king's orders to you, general, to retire at once with your command."
It was time, for a body of Austrian cavalry, of much greater strength, could be seen galloping towards them from the high ground half a mile distant. In half a minute the Prussians were in motion but, as they returned, the storm of fire from the two villages burst out again with redoubled violence. Men and horses rolled over but, closing up quickly, the squadrons swept on.
The general remained stationary until his last squadron thundered by, and then galloped forward again and took his place at their head. Fergus had followed him, when there was a sudden crash, and he was thrown with tremendous force over his horse's head, and there lay stunned with the shock.
When he recovered he staggered to his feet, and saw that he was surrounded by Austrian cavalry; these having halted just where he fell, as pursuit of the Prussians was hopeless, and the balls from the Prussian batteries were falling thick.
"You are our prisoner, sir," an officer said to him.
"So I see," Fergus said bitterly. "It is hard luck, just at the beginning of the campaign."
"It is the fortune of war," the Austrian said with a smile; "and indeed, I don't think that you have any reason to grumble for, had that shot struck a few inches farther back, it would have carried off both your legs."
A sharp order was now given to retire. One of the troopers was ordered to give his horse to Fergus, and to mount behind a comrade; and they rode back to the Austrian main position, on the rising ground. Fergus was at once taken to the marshal in command of the Austrians.
"What is your name, sir?" the latter asked.
"Fergus Drummond. I have the honour to be an aide-de-camp on Marshal Keith's staff."
"A Scotchman, I suppose?" the marshal said, breaking into English.
"Yes, sir."
"What force is there opposed to us?"
"That I cannot say, sir. I only joined the army two days ago, and have been on the march ever since."
"Who is its commander?"
"Marshal Keith, sir; but the king himself is with it."
"I will see that you are made comfortable, presently, Mr. Drummond.
"Captain Wingratz, will you conduct this officer to the rear, and place a couple of soldiers to see that he is not annoyed or interfered with, in any way?"
Fergus was led away. Captain Wingratz called up two troopers and, choosing an elevated spot of ground, told them to dismount and allow no one to speak to the officer.
"From here," he said courteously to Drummond, "you will get a view of the field of battle."
Fergus sat down on the grass, and remained a spectator of the fight to the end of the day. He marked at once that the combat had rolled down the hill, and that the Prussians were making their way in force towards Lobositz. Then he saw heavy masses of infantry, from the Austrian right, move forward to aid in its defence. For two hours the battle raged round the village, the whole of the guns on both sides aiding in the fight. Then volumes of smoke and flame rose, and the Austrians were seen retiring. Sulowitz still kept up a heavy fire, and he saw a strong body from the Austrian left move down there; while the centre advanced to cover the retreat of the defenders of Lobositz, and to check the advancing masses of the Prussians; and he thought, for a time, that a general engagement was about to take place. Then he saw the Prussian advance cease, the roar of cannon gradually died away, and the battle was at an end.
For an hour he remained, apparently unnoticed, then Captain Wingratz rode up with another officer.
"I am sorry to have neglected you so long, Lieutenant Drummond; but you see it was the fault of your own people, who have kept us so busy. This is Lieutenant Kerr, a compatriot of yours, who will take special charge of you."
"I am sorry that our meeting cannot take place under more favourable circumstances," Kerr said, holding out his hand. "It might well have been the other way.
"Now come with me to my tent. I have no doubt that you are hungry; I can assure you that I am."
The two walked together for about a quarter of a mile, the Austrian officer having left as soon as he had introduced them.
"There were three of us here this morning," Kerr said, as they entered the tent. "The other two are missing. One I know is killed; the other badly wounded, but whether he is dead or a prisoner I cannot say.
"By the way, are you not the officer who cut his way through the squadron of our regiment, and went on and joined your cavalry, who at once fell back? I was in Lobositz, myself. My squadron was not ordered out. As I hear that you were found by our cavalry as they followed the Prussians, it struck me that it might be you; although from Lobositz we could only see that it was a staff uniform that the officer wore."
"Yes, it was I. I was carrying an order for the cavalry to retire."
"That was what we supposed, as soon as you were seen coming down the valley; and as it would have suited us much better for the Prussian cavalry to have stayed where it was for a little longer, the general sent out a squadron to intercept you. It was a splendid thing to do, on your part. Of course, there were a number of us watching from the earthworks, and I can assure you that there was a general inclination to cheer as you cut your way through our fellows. I am sure that if I had known that it was a countryman I should have done it, though the action was at the expense of my own regiment.
"Our squadron suffered heavily as they rode back again, for that battery from the Homolka turned its attention to them, as soon as you had gone through. They had an officer and nearly thirty men killed and wounded before they got back into shelter.
"How long have you been out here?"
"Only about two months."
"Really! You are lucky in getting onto Keith's staff."
"He is a cousin of my mother's," Fergus said.
"And he made you lieutenant, and aide-de-camp, at once."
"No. I was first a cornet, but I was promoted at Dresden. The king had given strict orders about plundering, and it happened that I came upon some marauders at their work, and had the good fortune to rescue a gentleman of some importance from their hands; and the king, who was furious at his orders being disobeyed, himself promoted me.
"I had been lucky enough to get myself wounded in the affair. As I lost a good deal of blood, I looked no doubt a good deal worse than I was, and I expect that had a good deal to do with my getting the step."
"Well, you are a lucky fellow. I was eight years a cornet before I got promoted."
"I think my bad luck, in getting captured, balances my good fortune in being promoted so soon."
"To some extent perhaps it does, but you will get the benefit when you return. No doubt Fritz was watching you, as you rode. He must have seen our cavalry coming down the slope, before the man in command of your squadrons could have done so; and must have felt that they were lost, unless his orders were received. He must have been relieved, indeed, when he saw you reach them."
This had indeed been the case. The king and marshal had both been watching through their glasses the Prussian cavalry, and marked how the ground behind them was dotted thickly with the bodies of horses and men.
"Will they never stop?" the king said impatiently. "These cavalry men are always getting into scrapes with their impetuosity. Gorlitz must have known that he was only sent forward to ascertain the position of the Austrians, and not to fight their whole army. He ought to have turned, as soon as that crossfire of their batteries opened upon them."
"He knew that your majesty and the whole army would be watching him, sire," Keith said quietly; "and I fancy that, under such circumstances, few cavalry men would draw rein till they had done something worthy of themselves."
At this moment the fog wreath moved away.
"See," the king exclaimed, "there is a great body of Austrian cavalry moving along behind Sulowitz. That rise behind the village must hide them from our men.
"Where is your messenger, Keith?"
"There he goes, sire. He is well out of the valley now and, by the pace he is riding at, he won't be long before he reaches them."
"He won't reach them at all," the king said curtly, a minute later. "See, there is a squadron of horse riding out from Lobositz, to cut him off. No doubt they guess what his errand is."
"I see them, sire, and he must see them, too. He is checking his horse, for his orderly is coming up to him."
"Then the cavalry will be lost," the king said. "The enemy's batteries are playing havoc with them, and they will have the Austrians down upon them in a few minutes.
"Ah! I expect Gorlitz sees them now. Our men are halting, and forming up. I suppose he means to charge the Austrians when they come up, but there are three to one against him. He is lost."
"There is hope yet, sire," Keith said, as he again turned his glass on Fergus. "My aide-de-camp is going to charge the Austrian squadron."
"So he is!" the king exclaimed, lowering his glass, for the distance was little more than half a mile from the spot where he stood. "He must be mad."
"It is possible he may do it, sire. His orderly is riding boot to boot beside him. You know already that he is a good swordsman. He will have the advantage that the enemy won't dream of his attacking them, and the rate at which they are riding will help them through.
"There he goes!" and he raised the glass again to his eye. "Bravo! They are through the first troop, and still together. Now they are at it.
"There, sire, they are through the second troop. Bravo, Fergus!"
The king made no remark until he saw the Austrian squadron draw rein. Then he said: "Thank God, he has saved the cavalry! It was a glorious deed. Marshal Keith, make out his commission as a captain, today."
"He is very young, sire," the marshal said hesitatingly.
"By Heaven, sir, I would promote him if he were an infant in arms!" the king replied. "Why, Keith, the loss of half our cavalry would have crippled us, and cavalry men are not made in a day.
"There, he has reached them now. I see they are wheeling. Well and quickly done! Yes, they won't be overtaken; but three minutes later, and not a man would have come back.
"Colonel Rogner," he said to one of the group of officers behind him, "you will please ride down and meet the cavalry, when they come in, and convey to Lieutenant Drummond my highest satisfaction at the gallant manner in which he has carried out my orders. You will also inform General Gorlitz that, in my opinion, he pushed his reconnaissance much too far; but that I am well content with the bravery shown by the troops, and at the manner in which he drew them off on receipt of my order."
In five-and-twenty minutes the colonel returned, and said: "I regret to say, your majesty, that Lieutenant Drummond is missing. I have inquired among the officers and find that, as he was following General Gorlitz, he and his horse suddenly pitched forward and lay without movement. Evidently the horse was killed by a cannon shot, but whether Mr. Drummond was also killed, they could not say."
"We must hope not," the king said warmly. "I would not lose so gallant a young officer, for a great deal.
"Keith, if we take Lobositz today, let a most careful search be made, over the ground the cavalry passed, for his body. If it is found, so much the worse. If not, it will be a proof that he is either wounded or unhurt, and that he has been carried off by the Austrian cavalry; who passed over the same ground as ours, and who certainly would not trouble themselves to carry off his body."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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6
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: A Prisoner.
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The next morning a horse was brought round for Fergus, and he at once started, under the escort of a captain and Lieutenant Kerr and fifty troopers, with thirteen other officers taken prisoners at Lobositz. Seven hundred rank and file had also been captured. These, however, were to march under an infantry escort on the following day. Fergus afterwards learned that sixteen officers, of whom eleven belonged to the cavalry, had been killed; and eighty-one officers and about eighteen hundred men wounded in the desperate fighting at Lobositz.
Fergus found that among the Austrians the battle of the previous day was considered a victory, although they had lost their advanced post at Lobositz.
"I cannot say it seemed so to me," he said to the lieutenant, as they rode away from the camp.
"Why, we have prevented the king from penetrating into Bohemia."
"But the king could have done that three days ago, without fighting a battle," Fergus said; "just as Schwerin did at Koeniggraetz. There would have been no need to have marched night and day across the mountains, in order to give battle to an army nearly twice the strength of his own. His object was to prevent you from drawing off the Saxons, and in that he perfectly succeeded."
"Oh, there are other ways of doing that! We had only to keep along the other side of the Elbe until we faced Pirna, then they could have joined us."
"It sounds easy," Fergus laughed, "but it would not be so easy to execute. These mountain defiles are terrible, and you may be sure that the king will not be idle while you and the Saxons are marching to meet each other.
"However, it was a hard-fought battle, and I should think that our loss must be quite as great as yours; for your artillery must have played terrible havoc among our infantry, as they marched to the assault of the village."
"Yes. I hear this morning that we have lost about a hundred and twenty officers killed and wounded, and about two thousand one hundred and fifty men, and nearly seven hundred missing or prisoners. What your loss is, of course, I can't say."
"I cannot understand your taking so many prisoners," Fergus said.
"A great many of them belong to the cavalry. You see, all who were dismounted by the fire of our guns were captured when our horse swept down."
"Ah, yes! I did not think of that. I saw a good many men running across the plain when I galloped out."
Two of the officers belonged to the 3rd Royal Dragoon Guards, half of which regiment had taken part in the reconnaissance; and both their horses, like his own, had been shot under them. As soon as they were brought up from the tents where they had been lodged, they exchanged a cordial greeting with Fergus. He no longer belonged to the regiment, as on his promotion he had been gazetted from it on to the staff; but during the time he had drilled with them, in Berlin, he had come to be well known to all of them.
"I thought that it was you, lieutenant," one of them said. "I was not far from you, when you charged through those Austrians. I was unhorsed as we went forward, and was running back when I saw them come out. There were a good many of us, and I thought their object was to capture us. It was no use running, and I threw myself down, in hopes they would think I had been knocked over. You passed within thirty yards of me. Our guns opened so heavily on them, after you had got through, that I thought it prudent to keep quiet a little longer before I made a move; and the result was that the Austrian cavalry, as it came along in the pursuit of our men, picked me up.
"Do you know where we are bound for?"
"Prague in the first instance, but beyond that I cannot say. I suppose it will depend a good deal on what takes place now. There is no doubt the Saxons will have to surrender; and I suppose that, anyhow, they will send us farther away, unless indeed there is an exchange of prisoners."
A long day's ride took them to Prague. The news of the battle had been sent off the night before, and as it had been reported as a victory, the inhabitants were in a state of great delight. Bonfires blazed in the streets, church bells rang in triumphant peals, and the whole population was abroad. The arrival of this party, with prisoners, afforded a welcome confirmation of the news.
There were a few yells and hoots, as they rode along in charge of their escort; but as a rule the people stood silent, as if in respect for their misfortunes, for most of the captives were wounded. They were taken to the military prison, and comfortable quarters assigned to them; and the wounds of those who required it were redressed by a surgeon. There was a hearty parting between Fergus and Kerr, as the latter, after handing over his prisoners, turned to ride off with the escort to the barracks.
"I start early tomorrow for the camp again," he said. "If you are kept here, I am sure to see you again before long."
Fergus shared a room with Captain Hindeman, an officer of the 3rd.
"I don't think it at all likely we shall remain here," the latter said. "It is more probable that we shall be sent to Olmuetz, or to one of the smaller fortresses in Moravia. The war is, they will think, likely to be confined to Bohemia until the spring; if indeed the king does not have to stand on the defensive. I cannot help thinking, myself, that we should have done better if we had let things go on quietly till the spring. It is not probable that Russia and Austria would have been more ready, then, than they are now; and we should have had the whole summer before us, and might have marched to Vienna before the campaign was over. Now they will all have the winter to make their preparations, and we shall have France, Austria, and Russia, to say nothing of Poland, on our hands. It is a tremendous job even for Frederick to tackle."
They remained for three weeks at Prague, and were then informed by the governor that he had orders for them to be removed to Olmuetz. Accordingly, the next day eight of the officers started on horseback, under an escort. When they reached Bruenn they found that they were to be separated, and the next morning Captain Hindeman and Fergus were taken to the fortress of Spielberg.
"An awkward place either to get in or out of, Drummond," the captain said, as they approached the fortress.
"Very much so," Fergus agreed. "But if I see a chance, I shall certainly do my best to escape before spring."
"I don't think there is much chance of that," the other said gloomily. "If we had been left at Prague, or even at Bruenn, there might have been some chance; but in these fortresses, where everything is conducted on a very severe system, and they are veritable prisons, I don't think that anything without wings has a chance of getting away."
As a rule, officers taken prisoners in war enjoyed a considerable amount of liberty; and were even allowed to reside in the houses of citizens, on giving their parole. The enforced embodiment of the Saxons in the Prussian army had, however, excited such a storm of indignation throughout Europe that it greatly damaged Frederick's cause. It was indeed an unheard-of proceeding, and a most mistaken one, for the greater part of the Saxons seized opportunities to desert, as soon as the next campaign began. It was the more ill-advised, since Saxony was a Protestant country, and therefore the action alienated the other Protestant princes in Germany, whose sympathies would have otherwise been wholly with Prussia; and it was to no small extent due to that high-handed action that, during the winter, the Swedes joined the Confederacy, and undertook to supply an army of 50,000 men; France paying a subsidy towards their maintenance, and the members of the Confederacy agreeing that, upon the division of Prussia, Pomerania should fall to the share of Sweden. Thus it may be said that the whole of Central and Northern Europe, with the exception only of Hanover, was leagued against Prussia.
It was a result of this general outburst of indignation that, instead of being kept in a large town and allowed various privileges, the prisoners taken at the battle of Lobositz were treated with exceptional severity, and confined in isolated fortresses. Fergus and his companion were lodged in a small room in one of the towers. The window was strongly barred, the floor was of stone, the door massive and studded with iron. Two truckle beds, a table, and two chairs formed the sole furniture.
"Not much chance of an escape here," Captain Hindeman said, as the door closed behind their guards.
"The prospect does not look very bright, I admit," Fergus said cheerfully; "but we have a proverb, 'Where there is a will there is a way'. I have the will certainly and, as we have plenty of time before us, it will be hard if we do not find a way."
He went to the window and looked out.
"Over a hundred feet," he said, "and I should say a precipice fully as deep at the foot of the wall. At any rate, we have the advantage of an extensive view.
"I am glad to see that there is a fireplace, for the cold will be bitter here, when the winter sets in. I wonder whether the rooms above and below this are tenanted?"
Hindeman shrugged his shoulders. He was not, at present, in a mood to take interest in anything. It was now the end of October, and Fergus was very glad when the door opened again, and a warder came in with two soldiers, who carried huge baskets of firewood; and it was not long before a large fire was blazing on the hearth.
Day after day passed. Fergus turned over in his mind every possible method of escape, but the prospect looked very dark. Even if the door were open, there would be difficulties of all sorts to encounter. In the middle of the day many people went in and out of the fortress, with provisions, wood, and other matters; but at sunset the gates were shut, and sentries placed on the walls; and on getting out he would have to cross an inner courtyard, and then pass through a gateway--at which a sentinel was posted night and day--into the outer court, which was surrounded by a strong wall over thirty feet high, with towers at the angles.
Escape from the window would be equally difficult. Two long and very strong ropes would be required, and the bars of the window were so massive that, without tools of any kind, it would be impossible to remove them.
A month later Captain Hindeman fell ill, and was removed to the infirmary. Fergus was glad of his departure. He had been so depressed that he was useless as a companion and, so long as he remained there, he altogether prevented any plan of escape being attempted; for difficult as it might be for one person to get away, it would be next to impossible for two to do so.
For an hour in the day, the prisoners had leave to walk on the wall. His fellow prisoner had never availed himself of this privilege; but Fergus always took his daily exercise, partly to keep himself in health, partly in hopes that a plan of escape might present itself. A sentry, however, was always posted on the wall while the prisoners were at exercise; and on the side allotted for their walk, the rock sloped away steeply from the foot of the wall. The thought of escape, therefore, in broad daylight was out of the question; and Fergus generally watched what was going on in the courtyard.
In time he came to know which was the entrance to the apartments of the governor and his family, where the married officers were quartered, and where the soldiers lodged. He saw that on the ground floor of the tower he occupied were the quarters of a field officer belonging to the garrison.
One day he saw a number of men employed in clearing out some unused quarters, on one side of the outer courtyard, and judged that an addition was about to be made to the garrison. This gave substance to a plan that he had been revolving in his mind. That evening, when the warder brought him his food, he said carelessly: "I see you have some more troops coming in."
"Yes," the man replied, "there are three hundred more men coming. They will march in tomorrow afternoon. They will be getting the room on the first floor, below here, cleared out tomorrow morning for the officer who commands them."
Fergus had, all along, considered that there would be no difficulty in suddenly attacking and overpowering the warder, when he came in or out of his room, for no special precautions were taken. The fact that the prisoners were all in their uniforms, and that on showing themselves below they would be instantly arrested, seemed to forbid all chance of their making any attempt to escape. It was the matter of clothes that had, more than anything else, puzzled Fergus; for although he thought that he might possibly obtain a uniform from some officer's quarters, it was evident that the guard would at once perceive that he was not one of the officers of the garrison. The arrival of the fresh detachment relieved him of this difficulty, and it now seemed that a way of escape was open to him.
Much depended upon the hour at which the regiment would arrive. The later they did so the better, and as the weather had for some days been terribly rough, and the roads would be deep and heavy, it was likely that they would not arrive until some time past the hour fixed.
The next afternoon he listened for the roll of drums that would greet the arrival of the newcomers. Just as the door opened, and the sergeant entered with a lantern, he heard the sound that he had been listening for.
[Illustration: As the man was placing his supper on the table, Fergus sprang upon him] Nothing could have happened more fortunately. As the man was placing his supper on the table, Fergus sprang suddenly upon him, hurled him down on to his face, and then fastened his hands behind him with a rope he had made from twisted strips of one of his rugs. He was not afraid of his calling out, as the window looked outside, and it was blowing half a gale. Moreover, the sound of drums below would aid to prevent any noise being heard from the courtyard.
"I don't want to hurt you, sergeant," he said, "but I do want my liberty. I must put a bandage round your mouth, to prevent you from calling; but you know as well as I do that there would be no chance of your being heard, however loud you might shout.
"Now, in the first place I am going to see if I can get a uniform. If I cannot, I must come back and take yours."
Binding the sergeant's legs as well as his arms, and putting a muffler over his mouth, Fergus went out, leaving his own jacket and cap behind him. The key was in the door. He turned it and put it in his pocket, shot the heavy bolts, and ran downstairs. When he got to the bottom, he tried the door of the major's quarters. It was unbolted, and he felt absolutely certain that the major would be out as, with the other officers, he would have gone down to the gate to receive those of the incoming detachment.
On opening the door, he saw the articles of which he was in search--a long cloak and a regimental cap. These he at once put on. After a further search, he found a pair of military pantaloons and a patrol jacket. Throwing off the cloak, he rapidly changed his clothes. He wanted now only a regimental sword to complete the costume, but he trusted to the long cloak to hide the absence of this.
Throwing the things that he had taken off under the bed, he went out, closed the door behind him, locked it, and took the key. He had with him the short sword carried by the warder, and he relied upon this to silence the sentry, at the passage leading to the outer court, should he attempt to stop him.
This, however, was most unlikely. The night was dark, and there was no light burning; and at this hour, with fresh troops arriving and a general movement in the fortress, there could be no question of a countersign being demanded by a sentry in the interior of the place. The man, indeed, only drew himself up and saluted, as he dimly made out an officer coming from the major's quarters.
The courtyard beyond was half full of soldiers. The newcomers had just fallen out. Some were being greeted by members of the garrison who had known them before, officers were chatting together; and Fergus made his way, unnoticed in the darkness, to the gate. As he had hoped, the baggage waggons were making their way in.
A sentry was placed on each side of the gate.
"Now then," he said sharply, "hurry on with these waggons. The commandant wants the gate shut, as soon as possible;" and passing the sentry, he went on as if to hurry up the rear of the train.
Taking him for one of the officers of the newly-arrived party, the sentry stepped back at once, and he passed out.
There were six waggons still outside and, unnoticed, he passed these and went down the road. He had brought with him under his cloak the sergeant's lantern and, as soon as he was half a mile from the fortress, he took this out in order to be able to proceed the more rapidly. He had taken particular notice of the country from his prison window and, when he came down into a broad road running along the valley, he turned at once to the south.
His plans had all been carefully thought out, while in prison. He knew perfectly well that, without money, it would be altogether impossible for him to traverse the many hundred miles that lay between him and Saxony. There would be a hot pursuit when, in the morning, he was found to have gone; but it would hardly be suspected that he had taken the road for Vienna, as this would be entirely out of his way.
Happily, he was not altogether penniless. He had always carried five or six gold pieces, sewn up in the lining of his jacket with the letters with which he had been furnished by Count Eulenfurst, as a resource in case of being taken prisoner. He wished now that he had brought more, but he thought that it might prove sufficient for his first needs.
He walked all night. His candle burnt out, in two hours after starting; but at eleven the moon rose, and its light enabled him to keep the road without difficulty. As morning dawned, he approached a good-sized village some forty miles from his starting point and, waiting for an hour until he saw people stirring, Fergus went to the posting house and shouted for the postmaster. The sight of a field officer, on foot at such an hour of the morning, greatly surprised the man when he came down.
"My horse has fallen and broken its neck," Fergus said, "and I have had to walk some miles on foot. I have important despatches to carry to Vienna. Bring round a horse, without a moment's delay."
The postmaster, without the smallest hesitation, ordered his men to saddle and bring out a horse.
"It will be sent back from the next stage," Fergus said, as he mounted and rode on at full speed.
He changed horses twice, not the slightest suspicion being entertained by any of the postmasters that he was not what he seemed; and, before noon, arrived at the last post house before reaching Vienna.
"A bottle of your best wine, landlord, and I want to speak a word with you in a private room. Bring two glasses."
The wine was poured out, and after he had drank a glass Fergus said: "Landlord, I am the bearer of important despatches, and it is imperative that I should not attract attention as I enter the city. If I were seen and recognized there, questions might be asked, and curiosity excited as to the news of which I am the bearer.
"I see that you are a sensible man, and will readily understand the situation. To avoid attracting attention, it would be best for me to enter the city in a civilian dress. You are about my size, and I beg you to furnish me with a suit of your clothes, for which I will pay at once."
"I will do that willingly, sir," the landlord answered, feeling much honoured by being let into what he deemed an important affair. "My best suit is at your service. You can send it me out from the town."
"I would rather pay for it, landlord. I may be ordered in another direction, and may not have an opportunity of returning it. If you will say how much the suit cost you, I will hand you the money."
The landlord went out, and returned in a minute with the clothes.
"Another glass of wine, landlord," Fergus said, as he handed over the amount at which the landlord valued them--"another glass of wine; and then, while I am changing, get a light trap round to the door. I shall not want to take it into Vienna, but will alight and send it back again, half a mile this side of the gates. Mind--should any inquiries be made, it were best to say as little as possible."
In another five minutes, Fergus was on his way again. He had procured from the landlord a small trunk, in which he had packed the uniform, and directed him to keep it until he heard from him; but if in the course of a week he received no orders, he was to forward it to Major Steiner, at Spielberg.
When within half a mile of Vienna, Fergus got out, gave a present to the driver and told him to return, and then walked forward to the gate, which he entered without question. He thought it better not to put up in that quarter of the town, but walked a long distance through the city, purchased a travelling coat lined with sheepskin, and a small canvas trunk in which he put it; went some distance farther and hired a room at a quiet inn, and called for dinner, of which he felt much in need, for beyond eating a few mouthfuls of bread while a fresh horse was brought out for him, he had tasted nothing since the previous evening. After dining he went to his room and took his boots off and, feeling completely worn out from his long journey, after two months of confinement, threw himself on the bed and slept for three hours.
Then he went for an hour's stroll through the town. By this time it was getting dark, snowflakes were beginning to fall thickly, and he was very glad, after sitting for a time listening to the talk in the parlour of the inn, to turn in for the night.
In the morning the ground was covered with snow. He was glad to put on his thick coat, for the cold outside was bitter.
For some hours he walked about Vienna, and the contrast between that city and Berlin struck him greatly. The whole bearing and manner of the people was brighter, and gayer. The soldiers, of whom there were great numbers in the streets--Austrians, Croats, and Hungarians--had none of the formal stiffness of the Prussians, but laughed and joked as they went, and seemed as easy and light hearted as the civilians around them. They were, for the most part, inferior in size and physique to the Prussians; but there was a springiness in their walk, and an alertness and intelligence which were wanting in the more solid soldier of the north.
He spent the day in making himself acquainted with the town, the position of the gates, and other particulars which might be important to him; as he could not feel sure of the reception that he would meet with, when he presented his letter.
In the afternoon the city was particularly gay. Sledges made their appearance in the streets, and all seemed delighted that winter had set in, in earnest.
The next morning, after breakfast, Fergus went to the mansion of Count Platurn, whose position he had ascertained on the previous day. The name had been scored under, in his list, as one on whom he might confidently rely.
"I am the bearer of a letter to Count Platurn," he said, to the somewhat gorgeously-dressed functionary who opened the door. "I have a message to deliver to him, personally."
The doorkeeper closed the door behind him and spoke to a footman, who went away and returned, in a minute or two, and told Fergus to follow him to a spacious and comfortable library, where the count was sitting alone.
"You are the bearer of a letter to me, sir?" he said, in a pleasant tone of voice. "Whence do you bring it?"
"From Count Eulenfurst of Dresden," Fergus said, producing it.
The count gave an exclamation of pleasure.
"Has he completely recovered?" he asked. "Of course, we heard of the outrage of which he was a sufferer."
"He was going on well when I saw him last, count."
The count opened the letter and read it, with an air of growing surprise as he went on. When he had finished it, he rose from his seat and offered his hand to Fergus.
"You are the Scottish officer who saved the lives of the count, his wife, and daughter," he said warmly. "How you come to be here I don't know, but it is enough for me that you rendered my dear friend and his wife, who is a cousin of mine, this great service. You are not here, I hope, on any mission which, as an Austrian noble, I could feel it impossible to further."
"No indeed, count. Had it been so, I should assuredly not have presented this letter to you. In giving it to me, the countess said that possibly the fortune of war might be unfavourable, and that I might be taken prisoner. In that case, she said I might find a friend invaluable, and she gave me letters to eight gentlemen in various great towns, saying that she believed that any one of these would, for the sake of the count, do me any kindness in his power.
"Her prevision has turned out correct. My horse was shot under me at the battle of Lobositz, and I was made prisoner and sent to the fortress of Spielberg. Three days since I effected my escape, and deemed it more prudent to make my way here, where no one would suspect me of coming, instead of striving to journey up through Bohemia."
"You effected your escape from Spielberg!" the count repeated, in surprise. "That is indeed a notable feat, for it is one of our strongest prisons; but you shall tell me about that, presently.
"Now, about Count Eulenfurst. The affair created quite a sensation, partly from the rank and well-known position of the count, partly from the fact that the King of Prussia, himself, called upon the count to express his sincere regret at what had occurred, and the vigorous steps that he took to put a stop to all acts of pillage and marauding. It was said at the time that, had it not been for the opportune arrival of a young Scottish officer, an aide-de-camp to Marshal Keith, the lives of the count and his family would assuredly have been sacrificed; and that the king, in token of his approbation, had promoted the officer upon the spot.
"But I pray you, take off that warm coat, and make yourself at home."
He touched a bell. A servant entered immediately.
"If anyone calls, say that I am engaged on business, and can see no one this morning. Place two chairs by the fire, and bring in wine and glasses."
Two chairs were moved to the fire. Wine was placed close at hand on a small table, and the count fetched a box of cigars from his cabinet. Fergus had already adopted the all but universal custom, in the German army, of smoking.
"Now," the count said, when the cigars were lighted, "tell me all about this affair at Dresden."
Fergus related the facts, as modestly as he could.
"No wonder Eulenfurst speaks of you in the highest terms," said the count. "Truly it was nobly done. Six Pomeranian soldiers to a single sword! 'Tis wonderful."
"The chief credit should, as I have said, count, be given to the maid, but for whose aid matters might have gone quite otherwise."
"Doubtless great credit is due to her, Lieutenant Drummond; but you see, you had already defeated three, and I prefer to think that you would have got the better of the others, even if she had not come to your aid.
"The countess had, I hope, quite recovered at the time you came away, since it is she who writes the letter in his name."
"I think that she had quite recovered. For a few hours, the doctors were even more anxious as to her state than that of the count; but the news that he was doing well, and might recover, did wonders for her; and she was able herself to take part in nursing him, two days after he received the wound."
"I saw, by the account, that my little cousin received the king."
"She did, sir, and bore herself well. It was no doubt a great trial to her, so soon after the terrible scene she had passed through. In that she had showed great calmness and presence of mind, and was able to give assistance to her mother, as soon as she herself was released from her bonds."
"You were not present, yourself?"
"No, sir. My wound was, as I have said, but in the flesh; and was of so little consequence, that I did not think to have it bandaged until all other matters were arranged. But when I had made my report to the marshal, and begged that a surgeon should be sent instantly to aid the count, I fainted from loss of blood; and it was some days before I was able to ride out to pay my respects to the countess."
"And now, tell me about your escape from Spielberg."
This Fergus did.
"It was well managed, indeed," laughed the count. "You seem to be as ready with your wits as with your sword, and to have provided against every emergency. It was fortunate that you had hidden away those gold pieces, with your letters; for otherwise you could hardly have got those clothes from the postmaster. It was a bold stroke, indeed, to use her majesty's uniform and the imperial post to further your escape.
"Now we must think in what way I can best aid you. You will require a stout horse, a disguise, and a well-filled purse. Eulenfurst authorizes me to act as his banker, to advance any moneys that you may require. Therefore you need offer me no thanks.
"What disguise do you, yourself, fancy?"
"I should think that the dress of a trader, travelling on business, would be as good as any I could choose."
"Yes, I should think it would."
"I should give myself out as a Saxon merchant," Fergus went on. "In the first place my German, which I learned from a Hanoverian, is near enough to the Saxon to pass muster; and my hair and complexion are common enough, in Saxony."
"I will get an official paper from the city authorities, stating that you are one--shall we say Paul Muller, native of Saxony, and draper by trade? --now returning to Dresden. I shall have no difficulty in getting it through one of my own furnishers. I do not say that you could not make your way through without it; but should you be stopped and questioned, it would facilitate matters. I will see about it this afternoon. I have simply to say, to one of the tradesmen I employ, that I am sending an agent through Bohemia to Eulenfurst, and think that in the present disturbed state he had better travel as a trader; and ask him to fill up the official papers, and take them to the burgomaster's office to get them signed and stamped. He will do it as a matter of course, seeing that I am a sufficiently good customer of his.
"A horse I can, of course, supply you with. It must not be too showy, but it should be a strong and serviceable animal, with a fair turn of speed. The clothes you had perhaps better buy for yourself, together with such things as you can carry in your valises.
"I would gladly ask you to stay with me here, for a while; but having arrived in that dress, it might excite remark among the servants were you to appear in a different character. I regret that my wife and family are away, at one of my country seats, and will not be back for a week; and I suppose you will not care to linger so long here."
"I thank you, count, but I should prefer to leave as soon as possible. I do not think that there is really any fear of my being recognized. If they search at all along the Vienna road, it is not likely that they will do so as far as this; and certainly they could obtain no news of me, for the first forty miles, and would not be likely to push their inquiries as far, for a dismounted field officer could not but have attracted attention, at the first village through which he passed."
"It would be best for you not to change your clothes at the place where you are stopping. I can have everything ready for you by tomorrow morning, if you wish to leave at once."
"I should certainly prefer doing so."
"Very well, then. Do you go out by the west gate, at nine o'clock, and walk for some four miles. When you find some quiet spot, change your clothes, and walk on until within sight of the village of Gulnach, and there wait. I will send a confidential servant with the horse. He, on seeing you standing there, will ask who you are waiting for. You will give my name, and then he will hand over the horse and papers to you."
He got up and went to his table and opened a drawer.
"Here are a hundred rix dollars, Mr. Drummond, which I hand you as Count Eulenfurst's banker. It is a matter of pure business."
"I could do with much less than that, sir," Fergus said.
"No, 'tis better to be well supplied. Besides, there are your clothes to buy; and be sure and provide yourself with a good fur-lined travelling cloak. You will need it, I can assure you.
"Your best course will be to travel through Saint Poelten and Ips, cross the river at once, and go over the mountains by the road through Freystadt to Budweis. It is by far the most level road from here, though a good deal longer than the one through Horn. But there is snow in the air, and I think that we shall have a heavy downfall, and you may well find the defiles by the Horn road blocked by snow; whereas by Freystadt you are not likely to find any difficulty, and most of the road is perfectly flat."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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7
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: Flight.
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After leaving Count Platurn, with the most sincere thanks for his kindness, Fergus went to a clothier's, where he bought clothes suitable for a trader, with warm undergarments, and an ample cloak lined with warm, though cheap, fur, and carried these to his inn. The rest of the day was spent in strolling about, and in examining the public buildings and art galleries.
The next morning he paid his reckoning and, taking his small trunk in one hand and his fur cloak in the other, started; wearing the coat he had first purchased as he thought that, crossing the defiles into Saxony, he might very well need that as well as his cloak. As the western gate was the one nearest to his inn, it was not long before he issued out and, walking briskly, came in three-quarters of an hour to a wood.
As there was no one in sight along the road, he turned in here and changed his clothes. Then, leaving those he had taken off behind him, he continued on his way, and in less than half an hour approached a village, which he learned from a man he met was Gulnach. He waited by the roadside for a quarter of an hour, and then saw a man galloping towards him, leading a riderless horse. He drew rein as he came up.
"What are you waiting here for?" he asked.
"Platurn," Fergus replied.
"That is right, sir. This is your horse. Here is the letter the count bade me give you, and also this sword," and he unbuckled the one that he wore.
"He bade me wish you God speed."
"Pray tell him that I am sincerely obliged to him for his kindness," Fergus replied, as he buckled on the sword.
The man at once rode off.
The saddle was furnished with valises. These contained several articles he had not thought of buying, among them a warm fur cap with flaps for the ears, and a pair of fur-lined riding gloves. He transferred the remaining articles from the little trunk to the valises, and threw the former away; rolled up his cloak and strapped it behind the saddle; and then mounted. He was glad to find in the holsters a brace of double-barrelled pistols, a powder flask and a bag of bullets, and also a large flask full of spirits.
As he gathered the reins in his hand, he had difficulty in restraining a shout of joy; for with an excellent horse, good arms, warm clothes and a purse sufficiently well lined, he felt he was prepared for all contingencies.
As he moved on at a walk, he opened the count's letter. It contained only a few lines, wishing him a safe journey, and begging him to tell Count Eulenfurst that he regretted he could not do more for his messenger, to prove his goodwill and affection; and also the official document that he had promised to procure for him. Tearing up the count's letter, and putting the official document carefully in his pocket, he pressed his heel against his horse's flank, and started at a canter.
He stopped for the night at Ips, and on the following day rode to Linz. The snow had fallen almost incessantly, and he was glad, indeed, that he had brought the coat as well as the cloak with him.
The next night he halted at Freystadt. As this was a strongly fortified place, commanding the southern exit of the defile from the mountain, he was asked for his papers. The official merely glanced at them, and returned them. He was forced to stay here for several days, as he was assured that it would be all but certain death to endeavour to cross the pass, in such weather.
On the third day the snow ceased falling and, early next morning, a force of 500 men, comprising almost the whole of the garrison, started to beat down the snow, and cut a way through the deep drifts. For four days this work continued, the men being assisted by a regiment that was marched down from Budweis, and opened the defile from the northern end. The pass was an important one, as in winter it was the one chiefly used for communication between Bohemia and Vienna; and it was therefore highly important that it should be maintained in a practicable state.
Fergus was in no hurry to proceed. He knew that there was not the smallest possibility of operations being commenced until the snow disappeared, which might not be until the end of March. He therefore took matters very quietly, keeping entirely indoors as long as the snow continued to fall, and going out as little as possible, afterwards.
He was glad, indeed, when the news came that the pass was clear. As soon as the gates were unlocked he pressed on, in order to get ahead of a large convoy of carts, laden with warm clothing for the soldiers, that was also waiting for the pass to be opened. In spite of all that had been done, it was rough work passing through the defile, and he did not arrive at Krumnau until nearly sunset. Budweis lay but a few miles farther ahead, but he had made up his mind not to stop there, as it was a large garrisoned town, and the small places suited him better.
Passing through the town, next day, he continued his course along the road near the river Moldau. He made but short journeys, for the snow had not yet hardened, and it was very heavy riding. He therefore took four days in getting to Prague.
He thought it probable that here a watch might be kept for him for, had he travelled straight from Spielberg, this was the point for which, in all probability, he would have made; unless he had gone through Silesia, and then travelled up through Breslau. He therefore made a circuit of the picturesque old city, entered it by a western gate, and then rode straight for the bridge. He had slept at a place but four miles distant, and had started at daybreak, so that it was still early in the day when he proceeded on his way.
He stopped at a small town, ten miles farther north. Two or three squadrons of cavalry were quartered there. The landlord at the inn where he put up at once asked for his papers. These he took to the town offices, where they were stamped as being in due order. Half an hour later, as Fergus was at his meal, two officers entered.
"Your papers appear to be right, sir," one of them said courteously; "but in times like these, it is our duty to examine closely into these matters. You come from Vienna?"
"Yes, sir."
"Which way did you travel?"
"By way of Linz and Budweis," he said. "The snow began on the day before I left the capital, and I was advised to take that route, as the road would be more level, and less likely to be blocked with snow than that through Horn. You will see that my paper was stamped at Linz, and also at Freystadt.
"I was detained at the latter place seven days. For the first three it snowed, and for the next four days the garrison was occupied, with the aid of troops from Budweis, in opening the defile."
The officer nodded.
"I happen to know that your story is correct, sir, and that it accounts fully for your movements since leaving Vienna. Which way do you intend to cross the passes into Saxony?"
"I must be guided by what I hear of their state. I had hoped to have got back before the snow began to fall in earnest, but I should think that the road by the river will now be the best."
"I should think so," the officer said, "but even that will be bad enough. However, I will not detain you farther."
They moved away to another table and, calling for a bottle of wine, sat down.
"No, we are mistaken. I don't think the fellow would have the bare-faced impudence to come through Prague," one said.
The other laughed.
"I should think that he would have impudence for anything, major. And in truth, I rather hope that they won't lay hands upon him--a fellow who devised and carried out such a scheme as he did deserves his liberty. Of course, his overpowering the warder was nothing; but that he should have had the impudence to go down into the major's quarters, appropriate his clothes, leave his own uniform behind him; and then, taking advantage of the arrival of another regiment, march calmly out through them all, pass the sentries--who took him for one of the newly-arrived officers in charge of the waggons--was really splendid!
"How it was that they did not overtake him the next morning, I cannot make out. He had no sword with him, and no horse; and the spectacle of a field officer on foot, without even a sword, should have attracted the attention of the very first person who met him. He had not been gone two hours when troops started in pursuit; for when the major, whose door he had locked, had it burst open and found that his uniform was gone, he suspected something was wrong, and had all the sergeants in charge of prisoners mustered.
"One was missing, the man who had charge of this young Scotchman. As he could not be found, the fellow's cell was broken open, and there was the warder, bound and gagged. The bird had flown, and parties of horse were sent off by all the roads leading to Bohemia and Silesia, but no signs of the man have, as far as we have heard, yet been discovered.
"The only thing that I can imagine is that, when he heard the cavalry in pursuit, he left the road and hid up somewhere; and that afterwards he tried to make his way by unfrequented paths, and was starved in the snow. In that case his body is not likely to be found until the spring."
"I cannot help thinking that a fellow who could plan and carry out that escape would hardly be likely to lose his life in a snowdrift. You see, it was not a sudden idea. On no other evening would he have found the gate open after sunset, nor would he have been certain to have found the major absent from his quarters. He must have been waiting patiently for his opportunity and, as soon as he heard that another battalion was coming into the garrison, he must have resolved to act. More than that, he must have calculated that instead of arriving at four o'clock, as they were timed to do, they would be detained and not get in until after dark.
"They are clear-headed fellows, these Scotchmen; whether they are in our army or Frederick's. What makes the affair more wonderful is that this was quite a young fellow, and probably understood no German; but I think that he would have acted more wisely, had he waited until the spring."
"I don't know," the other said. "When once the troops are all in movement north, he certainly could not have escaped in a military uniform without being questioned; and it scarcely seems possible that he could have procured any other. He must be in more of a hurry to fight again than I am."
"There can hardly be much serious fighting," the other said. "With us, Russia, and France, and with the 50,000 Swedes who have been bought by France, we shall have 500,000 men under arms; while we know that 200,000 is the utmost Frederick can muster, and these will have to be scattered in every direction round his frontier."
"I am sorry that France has joined in," the other said. "It is unnatural enough that we and Russia should combine to crush Prussia, but when it comes to our old enemies the French helping us against a German power, I say frankly I don't like it. Besides, though we may get Silesia back again, that will be a small advantage in comparison to the disadvantage of France getting a firm foothold on this side of the Rhine. Even if her share of the partition doesn't extend beyond the river, this will be her frontier nearly down to the sea; and she will have the power of pouring her troops into Germany, whenever she chooses."
Fergus had now finished his meal, and without caring to listen longer he betook himself to bed. To avoid all appearance of haste, he did not start so early the next morning, but mounted at ten and rode to the junction of the Eger with the Elbe. It was too late to cross the river that night, and he therefore put up at a village on the bank, and crossed in a ferry boat on the following morning to Leitmeritz, a town of considerable size.
He was now within a day's ride of the defile through which the Elbe finds its way from Bohemia into Saxony. His papers were inspected, as usual, by the officer in command of a troop of cavalry there.
"You will have a rough time of it, if you push on," he said. "There is no traffic through the passes now, so the snow will lie as it fell, and at any moment it may come down again. As far as the mouth of the pass you will find it easy enough, for we send half a troop as far as that every day; but beyond that I should say it would be all but, if not quite, impassable. I advise you to stay here quietly, until you hear of someone having crossed; or at any rate, if you do go on, you must take three or four peasants as guides, and to help you through difficult places."
"Would it not be possible, captain," Fergus asked, "to hire a boat?"
"I did not think of that. Yes, there are flat boats that at ordinary times go down to Dresden, with the rafts of timber; but whether you would find anyone willing, now, to make such a journey is more than I can say."
"I am very anxious to be back to my business," Fergus said; "and as I should have to pay handsomely for guides to take me over, and even then might lose my life, it would be better for me to pay higher and get through at once."
On going down to the water side he saw several boats hauled up, and it was not long before some boatmen, seeing a stranger examining their craft, came down to him.
"I want to go down to Dresden," he said. " 'Tis a bad time of the year," one of the men replied.
"It is a bad time of the year, as far as cold is concerned; but it is a good time of the year for going down the river," he said; "for now that the frost has set in the river is low and the current gentle, whereas in the spring, when the snow is melting, it must be a raging torrent in some of the narrow defiles."
This evidence that the stranger, whoever he was, was no fool, silenced the boatmen for a minute.
"Now," Fergus went on, "what is the lowest price that one of you will take me and my horse down to Dresden for? I am disposed to pay a fair price and not more, and if you attempt to charge an exorbitant one, I shall take guides and follow the road."
"You would never get through," one of the men said.
"Well, at any rate I would try; and if I could not succeed by the road by the river, I would cross by some other pass. I have no doubt, whatever, I could get through by Graber and Zittau."
The stranger's acquaintance with the country again silenced the men. They talked for a while apart, and then one said: "We will take you for twenty rix dollars."
"Do you suppose that I am the emperor, in disguise?" Fergus said indignantly. " 'Tis but three days' journey, at most, and perhaps six for coming back against the stream."
"We shall need four men, master, and there is the food by the way."
After much bargaining the price was settled at fifteen rix dollars, both parties being satisfied with the bargain; the men because it was more than twice the sum for which they would have been glad to do it, at ordinary times; Fergus because he had still forty rix dollars in his pocket, and had only bargained as he did in order not to appear too anxious on the subject. The price was to include the erection, at one end of the boat, of a snug cover of rushes for his use.
He found, on going down to the shore three hours later, that the boatmen were engaged in covering in the whole of the craft, with the exception of a few feet at each end, with a roof of rushes. The boat itself was some thirty-five feet in length and ten wide, with straight sides and a general resemblance to a canal barge, save that the beam was greater in comparison to the length. The roof was high, and sloped sharply. A tall man could walk along in the centre, while at the sides there was but three feet of height.
Hay and straw were extremely scarce, the whole supply of the country having been stripped by the foraging parties; but bundles of reeds had been thickly littered down, especially near the stern.
Shortly after his return, the landlord of the inn told him that, if he did not want to take the horse with him, he would himself gladly buy it.
"I have frequently to send to Prague for things for the inn; and besides, I have to get provisions for people in the town. I sold my best horse last autumn, to an officer whose charger had been killed. Now that sledging has begun, I want one which can travel fast and do the journey there in a day; so if you don't want to take it, and will accept a reasonable price, I will buy it."
The offer was a welcome one. With two splendid horses at his command--for he knew that good care would have been taken of the one left in camp--a third would only have been in the way; and this, although a good and useful beast, was scarce good-looking enough for an officer on the marshal's staff. Therefore, after the usual amount of bargaining, he parted with it for a fair price.
The next morning early he went on board, the servant of the inn following with a great hamper of wine and provisions. He was glad to see that a bright fire burned on an earthen hearth in the middle of the boat; the smoke finding its way out, partly through a hole cut in the thatch above it, partly by the opening at the fore end of the boat. He brought with him his horse cloth as well as his other belongings. The men, who were clearly in a hurry to be away, pushed the boat off from the shore as soon as he had taken his place.
"We want to be back as soon as we can," the owner of the boat said, "for it will not be long before the ice begins to form, and we don't want to be frozen in."
"It does not feel to me quite so cold this morning," Fergus remarked.
"No, sir; we are going to have more snow. That won't matter to us, and if it snows for the next week, all the better. It is not often that the river closes altogether until after Christmas. In the mountains the river seldom freezes at all. There is too much current, and besides, in shelter of the hills the cold is not so great."
Two oars were got out, for the purpose of steering rather than of hastening the progress of the boat; and once well out in the current, she was allowed to drift quietly with the stream. Fergus spread his horse cloth on the rushes by the fire, and found no need for his sheepskin coat; the cloak, loosely thrown over his shoulders and the collar turned up, to keep off the draughts that blew in under the bottom of the thatch, being sufficient to make him thoroughly comfortable.
There was nothing to see outside, the shore being low and flat. He had brought a large supply of meat with him, and handed over a portion of this to the man who acted as the cook of the crew, and told him to make broth for them all. This was a welcome gift to the crew, who but seldom touched meat; and with the addition of barley, coarse flour, and herbs that they had brought for their own use, an excellent stew was provided. The pot was kept going through the journey, fresh meat and other ingredients being added, from time to time. In addition to this, slices of meat were grilled over the fire, and eaten with the bread they had brought. The gift of a bottle of wine between the crew, each day; and of a small ration of spirits, the last thing in the evening, added greatly to the satisfaction of the men.
By nightfall they arrived at the entrance of the defile. The snow was falling heavily, and they tied up against the bank. Fergus chatted with the men, and listened to their stories of the river, for some hours.
All of them had, at various times, gone on timber rafts. They bewailed the war, which would do them much harm. It would not altogether interrupt trade, for timber would be required, as usual, in Saxony and Hanover. As a rule, neither of the contending armies interfered with the river traffic; though communications by land were greatly interrupted, owing to the peasants' carts being impressed for military service. This, and the anxiety of everyone for the safety of his home and belongings, brought the trade between the countries to a standstill.
On the river, however, the difficulty consisted, not in any interference by the authorities, but from so large a number of the able-bodied men being called out for service that the amount of timber cut and brought down was greatly diminished, while the needs of the army brought the trade in cattle and other produce to an entire cessation.
The dangers of the river were not great; although in spring, when the snow melted and the river was swollen, navigation was rendered, especially in the narrow reaches of the defile, difficult and dangerous; for the force of the stream was so great that it was well-nigh impossible to direct the course of the rafts, and indeed the poles used for that purpose were often found too short to reach the bottom.
The men were up long before daylight; but it was two hours later before Fergus roused himself and, shaking off the fine snow that had drifted in and lay thickly on his coat, went out to have a look at things. One of the men was already preparing breakfast. Two of the others stood at the bow with long poles, with which they punted the boat along. The captain, also provided with a pole, stood in the stern.
The snow had ceased, but the air felt sharp and cold as it came down from the hills, which were all thickly covered.
"So there is an end of the snow, for the present, captain," he said, as he pushed aside the curtain of reeds that closed the stern of the covered portion, and joined him.
"Yes. I am not altogether sorry, for we can see where we are going. We shall keep on, now, until we are through the defile."
"But there is no moon, captain."
"No, but we can tell pretty well, by the depth of water, where we are; and can manage to keep in the middle of the current. There are no obstructions there to affect us, though in some places there are plenty of ugly rocks near the shore. However, if we have luck we shall be through before midnight, and shall pass all the worst points before sunset."
The day passed, indeed, without adventure of any kind. The journey was highly interesting to Fergus, for the scenery was very picturesque. Sometimes the hills narrowed in, and the stream, straitened in its course, hastened its speed; at others the hills receded, and were covered far up with forests; above which bleak mountain tops, with their mantle of snow, rose high in the air. The captain pointed out the spot where the Saxons had crossed; and where, pent in and surrounded with batteries commanding every means of exit, they were forced to surrender.
"It is smooth work now," he said, as they were going through one of the narrows, "for the river is low and the current gentle; but in floods there are waves, here, that would swamp the boat did she keep out in the middle, as we are doing; and it would be impossible to pole her against it, even close to the shore. You see, the ice is forming already near the banks."
"How do you manage coming back?"
"In some places we can pole the boat. She will be light, and will only draw a few inches of water. Then we hire a horse for a bit, at one of these little villages; or, where the road leaves the river, the other three will get out and tow from the edge, while I shall steer. We shall manage it easily enough, if the ice does not form too thickly.
"If the worst comes to the worst, we should stop at one of the villages, get the people to help us to haul her well up, wait till the snows are quite over, and then make our way back on foot, and come and fetch the boat up when the spring floods are over."
"Then the pass is not so dangerous after all, captain," Fergus said with a smile.
"Not when the snow has once hardened, and to men accustomed to it. As soon as the weather gets settled there will be a little traffic, and the snow will be beaten down. Besides, where the hills come steep to the water's edge, a man on foot can always make his way along when the water is low; though a horseman might not be able to do so."
"In fact, I suppose," Fergus said, "you all combine, at Leitmeritz, to represent the passes as being a great deal more dangerous than they are; in order to force those obliged to make the journey to take as many men as possible with him, or to pay two or three times the proper fare, by boat."
"The passes over the hills would be terrible, now," the man said. "Most of them would be absolutely impassable, until the snow hardens.
"As for the rest," he added with a smile, "it may be that there is something in what you say; but you see, times are hard. There is little work to be done, and scarce any timber coming down; and if we did not get a good job, occasionally, it would go very hard with us."
By nightfall they were nearly through the defile. Lanterns were placed in the bow of the boat and, until long after Fergus was asleep, the men continued to work at their poles. When he woke up in the morning the boat was floating down a quiet river, with the plains of Saxony on either side, and the mountain range far astern.
At noon they neared Dresden, and an hour later Fergus stepped ashore. He paid the men the sum arranged, and handed over to them the rest of his provisions, which would be sufficient to carry them far on their way back.
He soon learnt that Marshal Keith was established in his old quarters, and made his way thither. He met two or three officers of his acquaintance, but no one recognized him in his present attire. He had hired a boy, when he landed, to carry his cloak and valises. The saddle and bridle he had sold with the horse.
He was, as usual, passing the sentries at the gate without notice, when one of them stepped in front of him.
"What is your business, sir?"
"My business is with Marshal Keith," he said, "and it is particular."
The sentry called a sergeant of the guard.
"You can pass me up," Fergus said sharply. "I am well known to Marshal Keith, and he will assuredly see me."
A soldier took him up to the anteroom. Lieutenant Lindsay, who was on duty, came forward, looked at him doubtfully for a moment, and then shouted joyfully: "Why, Drummond, is it you? This is indeed a joyful meeting, old fellow. I had thought of you as immured in one of the enemy's fortresses, and as likely to remain there till the war was over, and now here you are! The marshal will be delighted."
"He cannot be more pleased than I am to be back again, Lindsay. Is he alone?"
"Yes. Come in at once. I won't announce you."
He opened the door.
"A gentleman to see you, marshal," he said, and Fergus walked in.
The marshal recognized him at once and, holding out both hands, shook those of Fergus cordially.
"I am indeed glad to see you," he said. "We knew that you were unhurt, for on the morning after the battle we sent in a parlementaire to Browne with the list of prisoners taken, and received his list in return; and as your name was among them, and you were not put down as wounded, my anxiety about you was relieved. We tried a month later to get exchanges, but they would not hear of it. In the first place, there is no doubt that the king's action, in incorporating the Saxons with our army, has caused a strong feeling against him; and in the second, they had plenty of fortresses in which to stow their prisoners, while they would calculate that the more prisoners we had to look after, the fewer men they would have to fight.
"And now, tell me by what miracle you have got here. I have nothing particular to do.
"Lindsay, you may as well stop and hear the story. Tell the sergeant to call you out if any one in particular comes; to everyone else, I am engaged.
"Or stay," he broke off, "they have just told me that luncheon is ready in the next room. A story is always better told over a bottle of wine, so tell the sergeant, Lindsay, that for the next hour I can see no one, unless it is on very particular business.
"Now, in the first place, Captain Drummond.
"Oh, of course, you have not heard!" he broke off, in answer to Fergus's look of surprise. "The king and I watched you charge through that Austrian squadron, and when he saw you reach our cavalry in safety, and they turned to come back, he ordered me at once to make out your commission as captain. I ventured to object that you were very young. He said you had saved half his cavalry, and that he would promote you, if you were an infant in arms."
"It is really absurd, marshal. I shall feel downright ashamed to be called captain by men still lieutenants, though a dozen years older than I am. I fear I have gone over Lindsay's head."
"You need not mind me, Drummond," Lindsay laughed. "I shall have a chance, one of these days; but not a soul will grudge you your promotion. There were many of us who saw your charge; and I can tell you that it was the talk of the whole army, next day, and it was thoroughly recognized that it saved the cavalry; for their commander would certainly have taken them against the Austrians and, if he had, it is equally certain that none of them would have got back again; and when your name appeared in orders the next day, we all felt that no one ever better deserved promotion."
"The king inquired especially, as soon as the list came, whether you were wounded, Fergus," Keith said; "and was very much pleased when he heard that you were not.
"Now, let us hear how you come to be here."
The marshal laughed heartily, when Fergus told of his escape in the disguise of an Austrian field officer.
"It was most admirably managed, Fergus," he said, when the tale was finished; "and your making for Vienna, instead of for the frontier, was a masterly stroke. Of course your finding a friend there was most fortunate; but even had you not done so, I have no doubt you would have got through, somehow. I think the best idea of all was your taking the post horses, and then getting a fresh suit of clothes from the postmaster.
"I am glad you ordered the major's suit of clothes to be sent back to him. I should have liked to have seen his face when he found that not only his uniform, but his prisoner, had disappeared.
"It will be a good story to tell the king. He has sore troubles enough on his shoulders, for the difficulties are thickening round; and although Frederick is a born general, he really loves peace, and quiet, and books, and the society of a few friends, far better than the turmoil into which we are plunged.
"The French are going to open the campaign, in the spring, with an army of a hundred thousand men. Russia will invade the east frontier with certainly as many more, perhaps a hundred and fifty thousand. They say these rascally Swedes, who have not a shadow of quarrel against us, intend to land fifty thousand men in Pomerania; and that Austria will put two hundred and fifty thousand in the field. Even tempered and self relying as the king is, all this is enough to drive him to despair; and anything that will interest him for an hour, and make him forget his difficulties, is very welcome."
The marshal asked many questions for, as he said, the king would like to know all the ins and outs of the matter; and he knew that Fergus would much rather that the story should be told the king by another, than that he should be called upon to do so.
"I hope the horse came back safely, Lindsay?" Fergus asked, as they left the marshal's apartments.
"Oh, yes! He went back with the convoy of wounded, and he is now safe in Keith's stable. The other is, of course, at the count's. I sent your things back at the same time, and when we returned here I packed everything up and sewed them in a sack. They are all in the storeroom."
"What has become of Karl? Did he get safely back?"
"Yes; but he had a nasty sabre wound he got in the charge, and he was in hospital for six weeks. The king gave him a handsome present, on the day after he came in; and would have given him a commission, if he would have taken it, but he declined altogether, saying that he was very comfortable as he was. His colonel would have made him a sergeant at once, but he refused that also.
"Just at present he is still looking after your horse, and helping generally in Keith's stable. His wound was on the head, and he is scarcely fit for duty with his regiment, so of course he will now fall in to his place with you again."
Fergus went down to the stable, where he was received with the greatest delight by Karl; whose pride in his master was great, after his exploit at Count Eulenfurst's, and had been heightened by the feeling excited in the army at his having saved the cavalry from destruction.
"I thought that you would be back by the spring, Captain," he said. "Donald and I have talked it over, many a time, and we were of one mind that, if any one could get away from an Austrian prison, you would do it."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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8
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: Prague.
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The next morning Fergus rode over to see Count Eulenfurst, found him quite restored to health, and was received by him, the countess, and Thirza with great pleasure.
[Illustration: Fergus was received by the count, the countess and Thirza with great pleasure] "My return in safety is in no small degree due to you, count. Had it not been for the letter to Count Platurn, with which the countess furnished me, I doubt whether I should have been able to get through; or at any rate, if I had done so it could only have been with many hardships and dangers, and certainly great delay."
"I have no doubt that the help you received from the count was of considerable assistance to you, and lessened your difficulties much, Captain Drummond; but I am sure you would have managed, without it. Had you formed any plans as to what you would have done, had you found him absent?"
"I had thought of several things, count, but I had settled on nothing. I should have remained but a day in Vienna, and should have exchanged the suit I had got from the innkeeper for some other. My idea was that I had best join one of the convoys of provisions going up to Bohemia. I calculated that I should have no difficulty in obtaining a place as a driver, for of course the service is not popular, and any of the men would have been glad enough for me to take his place. I might thus have got forward as far as Prague. After that I must have taken my chance, and I think I could, in the same sort of way, have got as far as Leitmeritz; but there I might have been detained for a very long time, until there was an opportunity of crossing the defiles. It would have been difficult, indeed, for me to have earned my living there; and what was left of the money I had, after paying for the landlord's suit, would scarce have lasted, with the closest pinching, till spring."
"You would have managed it somehow, I am sure," Thirza said confidently. "After getting out of that strong fortress, it would be nothing to get out of Bohemia into Saxony."
"We have not congratulated you yet," the countess said, "upon your last promotion. Lieutenant Lindsay came over to tell us about it, and how you had gained it. Of course we were greatly pleased, although grieved to hear that you had been made prisoner. We wondered whether, at the time you were captured, you had any of the letters I had written with you, and whether they would come in useful.
"It did not even occur to me that you would have called upon Count Platurn, my cousin. I thought that you might be detained at Prague, but Vienna is the last place where we should have pictured you. Had we known that you had been sent to Spielberg, I think we should have given up all hope of seeing you again, until you were exchanged; for I have heard that it is one of the strongest of the Austrian fortresses.
"I do hope, Captain Drummond, we shall see a great deal of you this winter. There will not be many gaieties, though no doubt there will be some state balls; but there will be many little gatherings, as usual, among ourselves, and we shall count upon you to attend them always, unless you are detained on service. We learn that it is probable your king will pass the whole of the winter here."
"We will send your horse down to you today," the count said. "You will find him in good condition. He has been regularly exercised."
"Thank you very much, count. I wrote to you before I started, but I have had no opportunity of thanking you, personally, for those splendid animals. Sorry as I was to lose the horse I rode at Lobositz, I congratulated myself that I was not riding one of yours."
"I should have had no difficulty in replacing him, Captain Drummond," the count said with a smile. "The least we can do is to keep you in horse flesh while the war lasts; which I hope will not be very long, for surely your king can never hope to make head against the forces that will assail him in the spring, but will be glad to make peace on any terms."
"No doubt he would be glad to, count; but as his enemies propose to divide his dominions among them, it is not very clear what terms he could make. But though I grant that, on paper, the odds against him is enormous, I think that you will see there will be some hard fighting yet, before Prussia is partitioned."
"Perhaps so," the count replied; "but surely the end must be the same. You know I have been a strong opponent of the course taken by the court here. Saxony and Prussia, as Protestant countries, should be natural allies; and I consider it is infamous that the court, or rather Bruhl, who is all powerful, should have joined in a coalition against Frederick, who had given us no cause of complaint, whatever. My sympathies, then, are wholly with him; but I can see no hope, whatever, of his successfully resisting this tremendous combination."
"Various things might happen, count. The Empresses of Russia or Austria or the Pompadour might die, or the allies might quarrel between themselves. England may find some capable statesman, who will once again get an army together and, joined perhaps by the Netherlands, give France so much to do that she will not be able to give much help to her allies."
"Yes, all these things might happen; but Frederick's first campaign has been, to a great extent, a failure. It is true that he has established Saxony as his base, but the Saxon troops will be of no advantage to him. He would have acted much more wisely had he, on their surrender, allowed them to disband and go to their homes. . Many then might have enlisted voluntarily. The country would not have had a legitimate grievance, and the common religious tie would soon have turned the scale in favour of Prussia; who, as all see, has been driven to this invasion by our court's intrigues with Austria. Had he done this he could have marched straight to Prague, have overrun all Bohemia, established his headquarters there, and menaced Vienna itself in the spring."
"Looking at it coolly, that might have been the best way, count; but a man who finds that three or four of his neighbours have entered into a plot to attack his house, and seize all his goods, may be pardoned if he does not at first go the very wisest way to work."
The count laughed.
"I hope that the next campaign will turn out differently; but I own that I can scarce see a possibility of Prussia, alone, making head against the dangers that surround her."
The winter passed quietly. There were fetes, state balls, and many private entertainments; for while all Europe was indignant, or pretended to be so, at the occupation of Saxony, the people of that country were by no means so angry on their own account. They were no more heavily taxed by Frederick than they were by their own court and, now that the published treaty between the Confederates had made it evident that the country, without its own consent, had been deeply engaged in a conspiracy hostile to Prussia, none could deny that Frederick was amply justified in the step he had taken.
At these parties, only Prussian officers who were personal friends of the host were invited; but Fergus, who had been introduced by Count Eulenfurst to all his acquaintances, was always asked, and was requested to bring with him a few of his personal friends. Lindsay, therefore, was generally his companion, and was, indeed, in a short time invited for his own sake; for the Scottish officers were regarded in a different light to the Prussians, and their pleasant manners and frank gaiety made them general favourites.
Their duties as aides-de-camp were now light, indeed; although both were, two or three times, sent with despatches to Berlin; and even to more distant parts of Prussia, where preparations for the coming campaign were being made on a great scale.
The whole Prussian population were united. It was a war not for conquest but for existence, and all classes responded cheerfully to the royal demands. These were confined to orders for drafts of men, for no new tax of any kind was laid on the people; the expenses of the war being met entirely from the treasure that had, since the termination of the Silesian war, been steadily accumulating, a fixed sum being laid by every year to meet any emergency that might arise.
Towards spring both parties were ready to take the field. The allies had 430,000 men ready for service. Frederick had 150,000 well-trained soldiers, while 40,000 newly-raised troops were posted in fortresses, at points most open to invasion. The odds were indeed sufficient to appall even the steadfast heart of Frederick of Prussia; but no one would have judged, from the calm and tranquil manner in which the king made his arrangements to meet the storm, that he had any doubt as to the issue.
Man for man, the Prussian soldier of the time was the finest in the world. He was splendidly drilled, absolutely obedient to orders, and filled with implicit confidence in his king and his comrades. He had been taught to march with extraordinary rapidity, and at the same time to manoeuvre with the regularity and perfection of a machine; and could be trusted, in all emergencies, to do everything that man was capable of.
The French army, 110,000 strong, was the first to move. Another 30,000 men were preparing to march, to join the army that had been got up by that mixed body, the German Federation. The main force was to move through Hanover.
To oppose them was a mixed army, maintained by British money, comprising Hanoverians, Brunswickers, and Hessians, some 50,000 strong, commanded by the Duke of Cumberland. With these were some 5000 Prussians; who had, by Frederick's orders, evacuated the frontier fortresses and joined what was called the British army of observation. Frederick prepared, for the present, to deal with the Austrians; intending, if successful against them, to send off 25,000 men to strengthen Cumberland's army. The proposed Swedish invasion was altogether disregarded; but thirty thousand men, principally militia, were posted to check the Russian invasion.
So quiet had been the preparations, that none of their enemies dreamt that the Prussians would assume the offensive, but considered that they would confine their efforts to defending the defiles into Saxony and Silesia. But this was not Frederick's idea. As spring approached, he had been busy redistributing his troops from their winter cantonment, and preparing three armies for the invasion of Bohemia. April had been a busy month for the staff, and the aides-de-camp had passed their days, and even their nights, on horseback.
At last all was in readiness for the delivery of the stroke, and on the 20th the king started from Lockwitch, facing the old Saxon camp at Pirna; the Duke of Bevern from Lousitz; and Marshal Schwerin from Schlesien; and without the slightest warning, the three great columns poured down into Bohemia.
The movement took the Austrians absolutely by surprise. Not dreaming of such a step on Frederick's part, they had prepared, near the frontier, vast magazines for the supply of their advancing army. These had to be abandoned in the greatest haste, and a sufficient amount of food to supply the entire army, for three months, fell into the hands of the Prussians. Marshal Browne and General Konigseck, who commanded the Austrian armies in Bohemia, fell back to Prague with the greatest speed that they could make.
The light irregular corps, that Frederick had raised during the winter and placed under experienced and energetic officers, pervaded the whole country, capturing magazines and towns, putting some to ransom, dispersing small bodies of the enemy, and spreading terror far and wide. Browne succeeded in reaching Prague before the king could come up to him. Bevern, however, overtook Konigseck, and greatly hastened his retreat; killing a thousand men and taking five hundred prisoners, after which Konigseck reached Prague without further molestation, the Duke of Bevern joining Schwerin's column.
The Austrians retired through Prague and encamped on high ground on the south side of the city, Prince Karl being now in command of the whole. Had this prince been possessed of military talents, or listened to Marshal Browne's advice, instead of taking up a defensive position he would have marched with his whole army against the king, whose force he would very greatly have outnumbered; but instead of doing so, he remained inactive.
On the 2nd of May, twelve days after moving from Saxony, Frederick arrived within sight of Prague. So closely had he followed the retreating Austrians that he occupied, that evening, a monastery at which Prince Karl and Marshal Browne had slept the night before. Thirty thousand men, who were under the command of Marshal Keith, were left to watch Prague and its garrison; while Frederick, on Tuesday, searched for a spot where he could cross the river and effect a junction with Schwerin. He knew his position, and had arranged that three cannon shots were to be the signal that the river had been crossed.
A pontoon bridge was rapidly thrown over, the signal was given, and the Prussians poured across it; and before the whole were over Schwerin's light cavalry came up, and an arrangement was made that the two forces should meet, at six o'clock next morning, at a spot within two miles of the Austrian camp on the Lisca hills.
[Map: Battle of Prague] All this time the Austrians stood inactive, and permitted the Prussian columns to join hands without the slightest attempt to interfere with them. Had Browne been in command, very different steps would have been taken; but Prince Karl was indolent, self confident, and opinionated, and had set his army to work to strengthen its position in every possible manner. This was naturally extremely strong, its right flank being covered by swampy ground formed by a chain of ponds; from which the water was let off in the winter, and the ground sown with oats. These were now a brilliant green, and to the eyes of Frederick and his generals, surveying them from the distance, had the aspect of ordinary meadows. The whole ground was commanded by redoubts and batteries on the hill, which rose precipitately seven or eight hundred feet behind the position. In the batteries were sixty heavy cannon; while there were, in addition, one hundred and fifty field guns.
Well might Prince Karl think his position altogether unassailable, and believe that, if the Prussians were mad enough to attack, they would be destroyed. Frederick and Schwerin spent much time in surveying the position, and agreed that on two sides the Austrian position was absolutely impregnable; but that on the right flank, attack was possible. Schwerin would fain have waited until the next morning, since his troops were fatigued by their long marches, and had been on foot since midnight. The Austrians, however, were expecting a reinforcement of thirty thousand men, under Daun, to join them hourly; and the king therefore decided on an attack, the terrible obstacles presented by the swamps being altogether unnoticed.
With incredible speed the Prussians moved away to their left, and by eleven o'clock were in readiness to attack the right flank of the Austrian position. Browne, however, was in command here and, as soon as the intention of the Prussians was perceived, he swung back the right wing of the army at right angles to its original position, so that he presented a front to the Prussian attack; massing thickly at Sterbold, a village at the edge of the swamps. Rapidly the whole of the artillery and cavalry were formed up on this face and, quick as had been the advance of the Prussians, the Austrians were perfectly ready to meet them.
Led by General Winterfeld, the Prussians rushed forward; but as they advanced, a terrific artillery fire was opened upon them. Winterfeld was wounded severely, and the troops fell back.
The main body now advanced, under Schwerin, and the whole again pressed forward. In spite of the incessant rain of grape and case shot, the Prussians advanced until they reached the pleasant green meadows they had seen in the distance. Then the real nature of the ground was at once disclosed.
The troops sunk to the knee, and in many cases to the waist, in the treacherous mud. Soldiers less valiant and less disciplined would have shrunk, appalled at the obstacle; but the Prussians struggled on, dragging themselves forward with the greatest difficulty through mud, through slush, through a rain of grape from upwards of two hundred cannon, and through a storm of musketry fire from the infantry. Regiment after regiment, as it reached the edge of the dismal swamp, plunged in unhesitatingly, crawling and struggling onward.
Never in the annals of warfare was there a more terrible fight. For three hours it continued, without a moment's interval. Thousands of the assailants had fallen, and their bodies had been trodden deep into the swamp, as their comrades pressed after them. Sometimes a regiment struggled back out of the mire, thinking it beyond mortal power to win victory under such terms; but the next moment they reformed and flung themselves into the fight again. Schwerin, seeing the regiment named after him recoil, placed himself at their head; and shouting, "Follow me, my sons!" led them till he fell dead, struck by five grape shot.
The Austrians fought as stoutly, Marshal Browne leading them till a cannonball took off his foot, and he was carried into Prague, to die there six weeks later.
While this terrible struggle was going on, the Prussian cavalry had made a very wide circuit round the ponds and lakelets, and charged the Austrian horse on Browne's extreme right. The first lines were broken by it, but so many and strong were they that the Prussians were brought to a standstill. Then they drew back and charged a second, and a third time.
The Austrians gave way. Prince Karl himself, brave if incapable, did his best to rally them, but in vain; and at last they fled in headlong rout, pursued for many miles by Ziethen's horsemen.
Still the infantry struggle was maintained. At last the Prussian right wing, hitherto not engaged, though suffering from the artillery fire on the heights, had their turn. General Mannstein discovered that, at the angle where Browne threw back the right wing of the army to face the Prussians, there was a gap. The troops there had gradually pressed more to their right, to take part in the tremendous conflict; and the elbow was, therefore, defended only by a half-moon battery.
Through the fish tanks he led the way, followed by Princes Henry and Ferdinand. The whole division struggled through the mud, drove back the Austrians hastily brought up to oppose them, captured the battery, and poured into the gap; thereby cutting the Austrian army in two, and taking both halves in flank.
This was the deciding point of the battle. The Austrian right, already holding its own with difficulty, was crumpled up and forced to fall back hastily. The other half of the army, isolated by the irruption, threw itself back and endeavoured to make a fresh stand at spots defended by batteries and stockades.
But all was in vain. The Prussians pressed forward exultingly, the fresh troops leading the way. In spite of the confusion occasioned by the loss of their commanders, and of the surprise caused by the sudden breakup of their line by the inrush of Mannstein and the princes, the Austrians fought stoutly. Four times they made a stand, but the Prussians were not to be denied. The Austrian guns that had been captured were turned against them and, at last giving way they fled for Prague, where some 40,000 of them rushed for shelter, while 15,000 fled up the valley of the Moldau.
Had it not been that an accident upset Frederick's calculations, the greater portion of the Austrians would have been obliged to lay down their arms. Prince Maurice of Dessau had been ordered to move with the right wing of Keith's army, 15,000 strong, to take up a position in the Austrian rear. This position he should have reached hours before, but in his passage down a narrow lane, some of the pontoons for bridging the river were injured. When the bridge was put together, it proved too short to reach the opposite bank.
The cavalry in vain endeavoured to swim the river. The stream was too strong, and Frederick's masterly combination broke down; and the bulk of the Austrians, instead of being forced to surrender, were simply shut up in Prague with its garrison.
The battle of Prague was one of the fiercest ever fought. The Austrian army had improved wonderfully, since the Silesian war. Their artillery were specially good, their infantry had adopted many of the Prussian improvements and, had Browne been in sole command, and had he escaped unwounded, the issue of the day might have been changed. The Prussians lost 12,500 men, killed and wounded; the Austrians, including prisoners, 13,300. Frederick himself put the losses higher, estimating that of the Austrians at 24,000, of whom 5000 were prisoners, that of the Prussians at 18,000, "without counting Marshal Schwerin, who alone was worth about 10,000."
It is evident that the king's estimate of the loss of the Austrians must have been excessive. They had the advantage of standing on the defensive. The Prussian guns did but comparatively little service, while their own strong batteries played with tremendous effect upon the Prussians, struggling waist deep in the mud. There can therefore be little doubt that the latter must have suffered, in killed and wounded, a much heavier loss than the Austrians.
Impassive as he was, and accustomed to show his feelings but little, Frederick was deeply affected at the loss of his trusted general, and of the splendid soldiers who had been so long and carefully trained; and even had Prague fallen, the victory would have been a disastrous one for him; for, threatened as he was by overwhelming forces, the loss of 5000 men, to him, was quite as serious as that of 20,000 men to the Confederates.
In Keith's army there had been considerable disappointment, when it became known that they were to remain impassive spectators of the struggle, and that while their comrades were fighting, they had simply to blockade the northern side of the city.
"You will have plenty of opportunities," the marshal said quietly to his aides-de-camp, on seeing their downcast look. "This war is but beginning. It will be our turn, next time. For it is a great task the king has set himself, in attempting to carry the strong position that the Austrians have taken up; and he will not do it without very heavy loss. Tomorrow you may have reason to congratulate yourselves that we have had no share in the business."
Nevertheless, as the day went on, and the tremendous roar of battle rolled down upon them--terrible, continuous, and never ceasing, for three hours--even Keith walked, in a state of feverish anxiety, backwards and forwards in front of his tent; while the troops stood in groups, talking in low tones, and trying to pierce with their eyes the dun-coloured cloud of smoke that hung over the combatants on the other side of Prague.
When at last the din of battle went rolling down towards that city, the feeling of joy was intense. In many, the relief from the tension and the long excitement was so great that they burst into tears. Some shook hands with each other, others threw their caps into the air, and then a few voices burst into the well-known verse of the church hymn: Nun danket alle Gott, Mit herzen, mund und haenden. Of which our English translation runs: Now thank we all our God, With hands and hearts and voices.
And in a moment it was taken up by 30,000 deep voices, in a solemn chorus, the regimental bands at once joining in the jubilant thanksgiving. Pious men were these honest, Protestant, hard-fighting soldiers; and very frequently, on their long marches, they beguiled the way by the stirring hymns of the church. Keith and those around him stood bare-headed, as the hymn was sung, and not a word was spoken for some time after the strains had subsided.
"That is good to listen to," Keith said, breaking the silence. "We have often heard the psalm singing of Cromwell's Ironsides spoken of, with something like contempt; but we can understand, now, how men who sing like that, with all their hearts, should be almost invincible."
"It is the grandest thing that I have ever heard, marshal," Fergus said. "Of course, I have heard them when they were marching, but it did not sound like this."
"No, Fergus; it was the appropriateness of the occasion, and perhaps the depth of the feelings of the men, and our own sense of immense relief, that made it so striking.
"Listen! There is a fresh outburst of firing. The Austrians have fallen back, but they are fighting stoutly."
The chief effect of this great battle was of a moral, rather than material kind. Prague was not a strong place, but with a garrison of 50,000 men it was too well defended to assault; and until it was taken Frederick could not march on, as he had intended, and leave so great a force in the rear.
The moral effect was, however, enormous. The allies had deemed that they had a ridiculously easy task before them, and that Frederick would have to retreat before their advancing armies, and must at last see that there was nothing but surrender before him. That he should have emerged from behind the shelter of the Saxon hills, and have shattered the most formidable army of those that threatened him, on ground of their own choosing, intrenched and fortified, caused a feeling of consternation and dismay. The French army, the Russians, and the united force of the French with the German Confederacy were all arrested on their march, and a month elapsed before they were again set in motion.
Marshal Daun, who had arrived at Erdwise, fell back at once when the news reached him and, taking post at the entrance of the defile, he made the greatest efforts to increase his army. Reinforcements were sent to him from Vienna and all the adjacent country. The Duke of Bevern was posted with 20,000 men to watch him; and Frederick sat down, with all his force, to capture Prague.
The siege train was hurried up from Dresden, and on the 9th of May his batteries on the south side of the city, and those of Keith on the north, opened fire on the city. For a month missiles were poured into the town. Magazines were blown up, and terrible destruction done, but the garrison held out firmly. At times they made sorties, but these were always driven in again, with much loss. But 50,000 men behind fortifications, however weak, were not to be attacked. Every approach to the city was closely guarded, but it became at last evident that, as long as the provisions held out, Prague was not to be taken.
The cannonade became less incessant, and after a month almost died away; for Daun had by this time gathered a large army, and it was evident that another great battle would have to be fought. If this was won by the Prussians, Prague would be forced to surrender. If not, the city was saved.
It was not until the 12th of June that Daun, a cautious and careful general, in accordance with urgent orders from Vienna prepared to advance. His force had now grown to 60,000; 40,000 of the garrison of Prague could be spared, to issue out to help him. Frederick had under 70,000, and of these a great portion must remain to guard their siege works. Thus, then, all the advantages lay with the relieving army.
Several officers in disguise were despatched, by Daun, to carry into Prague the news of his advance; and to warn Prince Karl to sally out, with the whole of his force, and fall upon the Prussians as soon as he attacked them in the rear. So vigilant, however, were the besiegers that none of these messengers succeeded in entering Prague.
On the 13th Frederick set out, with 10,000 men--to be followed by 4000 more under Prince Maurice, two days later, these being all that could be spared from the siege works--to join Bevern, who had fallen back as Daun advanced. The junction effected, Frederick joined Bevern and approached Daun, who was posted in a strong position near Kolin, thirty-five miles from Prague. On the 17th Prince Maurice arrived, and after several changes of position the armies faced each other on the 18th, within a short distance of Kolin.
Daun's new position was also a strong one, and was, in fact, only to be assailed on its right; and the Prussian army was moved in that direction, their order being to pay no attention to the Austrian batteries or musketry fire, but to march steadily to the spot indicated. This was done. Ziethen dashed with his hussars upon the Austrian cavalry, drawn up to bar the way; defeated them, and drove them far from the field; while Hulsen's division of infantry carried the village of Preezer, on the Austrian flank, in spite of the Austrian batteries. So far Frederick's combination had worked admirably.
Hulsen then attacked a wood behind it, strongly held by the Austrians. Here a struggle commenced which lasted the whole day, the wood being several times taken and lost. He was not supported, owing to a mistake that entirely upset Frederick's plan of battle.
While three miles away from the point where the attack was to be delivered, Mannstein, whose quickness of inspiration had largely contributed to the victory of Prague, now ruined Frederick's plan by his impetuosity. The corn fields, through which his division was marching towards the assault of the Austrian left, were full of Croats; who kept up so galling a fire that, losing all patience, he turned and attacked them.
The regiment to which he gave the order cleared the Croats off; but these returned, strongly reinforced. The regiments coming behind, supposing that fresh orders had arrived, also turned off; and in a short time the whole division, whose support was so sorely needed by Hulsen, were assaulting the almost impregnable Austrian position in front.
Another mistake--this time arising from a misconception of a too brief and positive order, given by Frederick himself--led Prince Maurice, who commanded the Prussian centre, to hurl himself in like manner against the Austrians.
For four hours the battle raged. In spite of their disadvantages, the Prussians fought so desperately that Daun believed the day to be lost, and sent orders to the troops to retreat to Suchdol; but the commander of the Saxon cavalry considered the order premature and, gathering a large body of Austrian infantry, charged with them and his own cavalry so furiously upon Hulsen that the latter was forced to retreat.
The movement spread, the attack slackened, and the other division moved down the hill. They had all but won. Frederick in vain tried to rally and lead them afresh to the attack. They had done all that men could do, and the battle ceased. Daun scarcely attempted to pursue, and the Prussians marched away, unmolested even by cavalry; some of the regiments remaining firm in their position until nightfall, repulsing with great loss the one attempt of the Austrians at pursuit; and Ziethen's cavalry did not draw off until ten at night.
The Austrians had 60,000 men in the field, of whom they lost in killed and wounded 8114. The Prussians, who began the day 34,000 strong, lost 13,773; of whom the prisoners, including all the wounded, amounted to 5380.
The news of the disaster, and with it Frederick's order to prepare to raise the siege of Prague at once, came like a thunderclap upon the Prussian camp. Frederick himself, and the remnant of his army, arrived there in good order, with all their baggage train, a day later. The cannon were removed from the batteries, the magazines emptied; and in good order, and without any attempt on the part of the Austrian garrison to molest them, the Prussian army marched away and took up their post at Leitmeritz.
The news that an Austrian army had at last beaten Frederick, and that Prague was saved, caused an exultation and joy, among the allies, equal to the dismay that had been aroused by the defeat at Prague; although there was nothing remarkable, or worth much congratulation, in the fact that an army, in an almost impregnable position, had repulsed the attack of another of little over half its strength.
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{
"id": "19714"
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9
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: In Disguise.
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Leitmeritz, lying as it did but a short distance beyond the mouth of the defiles leading into Saxony, was an admirably chosen position. Supplies for the army could be brought up by the Elbe, and a retreat was assured, should an overwhelming force advance to the attack; while from this spot Frederick could march, at once, either to the defence of Silesia, or to check an enemy approaching from the west towards the defiles through the mountains.
The news of the defeat at Kolin set all the enemies of Prussia in movement. The Russian army entered East Prussia, where there was no adequate force to oppose it; the Swedes issued from Stralsund; the French pressed hard upon the so-called British column of observation, and forced the Duke of Cumberland to retreat before them. Another French army, in conjunction with that of the German Confederacy, threatened the western passes into Saxony.
As yet, it was impossible to say where Marshal Daun and Prince Karl would deliver their blow, and great efforts were made to fill up the terrible gaps created at Prague and Kolin, in the regiments most hotly engaged, with fresh troops; who were speedily rendered, by incessant drills and discipline, fit to take their places in the ranks with the veterans.
The king was lodged in the cathedral close of the city. Keith with his division occupied the other side of the river, across which a bridge was at once thrown. Prince Maurice and Bevern had gone to Bunzlau, at the junction of the Iser and Elbe; but when, upon a crowd of light Austrian horse approaching, the Prince sent to the king to ask whether he should retreat, he was at once recalled, and the Prince of Prussia appointed in his stead.
On the 2nd of July came news which, on the top of his other troubles, almost prostrated Frederick. This was of the death of his mother, to whom he was most fondly attached. He retired from public view for some days; for although he was as iron in the hour of battle, he was a man of very sensitive disposition, and fondly attached to his family.
His chief confidant during this sad time was the English ambassador, Mitchell; a bluff, shrewd, hearty man, for whom the king had conceived a close friendship. He had accompanied Frederick from the time he left Berlin, and had even been near him on the battlefields; and it was in no small degree due to his despatches and correspondence that we have obtained so close a view of Frederick, the man, as distinct from Frederick the king and general.
The Prince of Prussia, however, did no better than Prince Maurice. The main Austrian army, after much hesitation, at last crossed the Elbe and moved against him; thinking, doubtless, that he was a less formidable antagonist than the king. The prince fell back, but in such hesitating and blundering fashion that he allowed the Austrians to get between him and his base, the town of Zittau, where his magazines had been established.
Zittau stood at the foot of the mountain, and was a Saxon town. The Austrians had come to deliver Saxony, and they began the work by firing red-hot balls into Zittau, thereby laying the whole town in ashes, rendering 10,000 people homeless, and doing no injury whatever to the Prussian garrison or magazines.
The heat, however, from the ruins was so terrible that the five battalions in garrison there were unable to support it and, evacuating the town, joined the prince's army; which immediately retired to Bautzen on the other side of the mountains, leaving the defiles to Saxony and Silesia both unguarded.
As messenger after messenger arrived at Leitmeritz, with reports of the movements of the troops, the astonishment and indignation of Frederick rose higher and higher. The whole fruits of the campaign were lost, by this astounding succession of blunders; and on hearing that Zittau had been destroyed, and that the army had arrived at Bautzen in the condition of a beaten and disheartened force, he at once started, with the bulk of the army, by the Elbe passes for that town; leaving Maurice of Dessau, with 10,000 men, to secure the passes; and Keith to follow more slowly with the baggage train and magazines.
On his arrival at Bautzen Frederick refused to speak to his brother, but sent him a message saying that he deserved to be brought before a court martial, which would sentence him and all his generals to death; but that he should not carry the matter so far, being unable to forget that the chief offender was his brother. The prince resigned his command, and the king, in answer to his letter to that effect, said that, in the situation created by him, nothing was left but to try the last extremity.
"I must go and give battle," he wrote, "and if we cannot conquer, we must all of us get ourselves killed."
Frederick, indeed, as his letters show, had fully made up his mind that he would die in battle, rather than live beaten. The animosity of his enemies was, to a large extent, personal to himself; and he believed that they would, after his death, be inclined to give better terms to Prussia than they would ever grant, while he lived. For three weeks the king vainly tried to get the Austrians to give battle, but Prince Karl and Daun remained on the hill from which they had bombarded Zittau, and which they had now strongly fortified.
Their barbarous and most useless bombardment of Zittau had done their cause harm; for it roused a fierce cry of indignation throughout Europe, even among their allies; excited public feeling in England to the highest point in favour of Frederick; and created a strong feeling of hostility to the Austrians throughout Saxony.
As soon as Keith and the waggon train arrived, bringing up the Prussian strength to 56,000, the king started, on the 15th August (1757), for Bernstadt; and then, to the stupefaction of the Austrians--who had believed that they had either Saxony or Silesia at their mercy, whenever they could make up their mind which ought first to be gobbled up--so rapidly did the Prussian cavalry push forward that Generals Beck and Nadasti were both so taken by surprise that they had to ride for their lives, leaving baggage coaches, horses, and all their belongings behind them.
On the 16th, Frederick with the army marched and offered battle to the Austrians; but although so superior in numbers, they refused to be beguiled from their fortified hill. At last, after tempting them in vain, Frederick was forced to abandon the attempt and return to Saxony, bitterly disappointed. He had wanted, above all things, to finish with the Austrians; so as to be able to move off to the other points threatened.
He now arranged that Bevern and Winterfeld should take the command in his absence, watch the Austrians, and guard Silesia; while he, with 23,000 men, marched on the 31st of August from Dresden, with the intention of attacking the combined French and German Confederacy force, under Soubise, that had already reached Erfurt. Keith accompanied the king on his harassing march.
Since the arrival of the army at Leitmeritz, Fergus had been incessantly engaged in carrying despatches between that town and Dresden; and worked even harder while the king was trying, but in vain, to bring about an engagement with the Austrians. For the first few days after starting for Erfurt, he had a comparatively quiet time of it. The marshal was now constantly the king's companion, his cheerful and buoyant temper being invaluable to Frederick, in this time of terrible anxiety. Fergus would have found it dull work, had it not been for the companionship of Lindsay, who was always light hearted, and ready to make the best of everything.
"I would rather be an aide-de-camp than a general, at present, Drummond," he said one day. "Thank goodness, we get our orders and have to carry them out, and leave all the thinking to be done by others! Never was there such a mess as this. Here we are in October, and we are very much as we were when we began in March."
"Yes, except that all our enemies are drawing closer to us."
"They are closer, certainly, but none of them would seem to know what he wants to do; and as for fighting, it is of all things that which they most avoid. We have been trying, for the last two months, for a fight with the Austrians, and cannot get one. Now we are off to Erfurt, and I will wager a month's pay that the French will retire, as soon as we approach; and we shall have all this long tramp for nothing, and will have to hurry back again, as fast as we came."
"It is unfortunate that we had to come, Lindsay. Things always seem to go badly, when the king himself is not present. The princes make blunder after blunder, and I have no faith in Bevern."
"No," Lindsay agreed, "but he has Winterfeld with him."
"Yes, he is a splendid fellow," Drummond said; "but everyone knows that he and Bevern do not get on well together, and that the duke would very much rather that Winterfeld was not with him; and with two men like that, the one slow and cautious, the other quick and daring, there are sure to be disagreements. We are going to attack a force more than twice our own strength, but I am much more certain as to what will be the result, than I am that we shall find matters unchanged when we get back here."
The foreboding was very quickly confirmed. A day or two later came the news that the Austrians had suddenly attacked an advanced position called the Jakelsberg; where Winterfeld, who commanded the van of Bevern's army, had posted two thousand grenadiers. Prince Karl undertook the operation by no means willingly; but the indignation, at Vienna, at his long delays had resulted in imperative orders being sent to him, to fight. Nadasti was to lead the attack, with fifteen thousand men; while the main army remained, a short distance behind, ready to move up should a general battle be brought on.
The march was made at night, and at daybreak a thousand Croats, and forty companies of regular infantry, rushed up the hill. Although taken by surprise, the Prussians promptly formed and drove them down again. Winterfeld was some miles behind, having been escorting an important convoy; and rode at a gallop to the spot, as soon as he heard the sound of cannon; and brought up two regiments, at a run, just as the grenadiers were retiring from the hill, unable to withstand the masses hurled against them.
Sending urgent messages to Bevern, to hurry up reinforcements, Winterfeld led his two regiments forward, joined the grenadiers and, rushing eagerly up the hill, regained the position. But the Austrians were not to be denied, and the fight was obstinately sustained on both sides. No reinforcements reached Winterfeld and, after an hour's desperate fighting, he was struck in the breast by a musket ball and fell, mortally wounded.
The Prussians drew off, slowly and in good order, at two o'clock in the afternoon; and soon afterwards the Austrians also retired, nothing having come of this useless battle save heavy loss to both sides, and the killing of one of Frederick's best and most trusted generals. It was not, however, without result; for Bevern, freed from the restraint of his energetic colleague, at once fell back to Schlesien, where he was more comfortable, near his magazines.
Keith sent for Fergus, on the evening when this bad news had arrived.
"I want you, lad, to undertake a dangerous service. Now that Winterfeld has been killed, the king is more anxious than ever as to the situation. It is enough to madden anyone. It is imperative that he should get to Erfurt, and fight the French. On the other hand, everything may go wrong with Bevern while he is away, to say nothing of other troubles. Cumberland is retreating to the sea; the Russians are ever gaining ground in East Prussia; there is nothing, now, to prevent the remaining French army from marching on Berlin; and the Swedes have issued from Stralsund. It may be that by this time Soubise has moved from Erfurt; and this is what, above all things, we want to know.
"You showed so much shrewdness, in your last adventure, that I believe you might get through this safely. Doubtless there are cavalry parties, far in advance of Erfurt, and these would have to be passed. The point is, will you undertake this mission, to go to Erfurt to ascertain the force there, and if possible their intentions, and bring us back word?"
"I shall be glad to try, marshal. There should be no difficulty about it. I shall, of course, go in disguise. I should not be likely to fall in with any of the enemy's cavalry patrols, till within a short distance of Erfurt; but should I do so, there would be little chance of their catching me, mounted as I am.
"I could leave my horse within a short distance of the town. Two or three hours would be sufficient to gather news of the strength of the force there, and the movements of any bodies of detached troops."
"Yes, you should have no great difficulty about that. A large proportion of the population are favourable to us and, being so near the frontier of Hanover, your accent and theirs must be so close that no one would suspect you of being aught but a townsman.
"Of course, the great thing is speed. We shall march from eighteen to twenty miles a day. You will be able to go fifty. That is to say, if you start at once you can be there in the morning; and on the following morning you can bring us back news."
An hour later Fergus, dressed as a small farmer, started. It was a main line of road, and therefore he was able to travel as fast, at night, as he would do in the day. There was the advantage, too, that the disparity between his attire and the appearance of the horse he rode would pass unnoticed, in the darkness. He had with him a map of the road, on a large scale; and beneath his cloak he carried a small lantern, so as to be able to make detours, to avoid towns where detachments of the enemy's cavalry might be lying.
He had started two hours after the troops halted, and had four hours of daylight still before him, which he made the most of, and by sunset he was within fifteen miles of Erfurt. So far, he had not left the main road; but he now learned, from some peasants, that there was a small party of French hussars at a place three miles ahead. He therefore struck off by a byroad and, travelling slowly along, turned off two hours later to a farmhouse, the lights from which had made him aware of its proximity.
He dismounted a hundred yards from it, fastened his horse loosely to a fence, and then went forward on foot, and peeped in cautiously at the window. It was well that he had taken the precaution, for the kitchen into which he looked contained a dozen French hussars. He retired at once, led his horse until he reached the road again, and then mounted.
Presently he met a man driving a cart.
"My friend," he said, "do you know of any place where a quiet man could put up, without running the risk of finding himself in the midst of these French and Confederacy troops?" " 'Tis not easy," the man replied, "for they are all over the country, pillaging and plundering. We are heartily sick of them, and there are not a few of us who would be glad, if the King of Prussia would come and turn them out, neck and crop."
"I don't care what sort of a place it is, so that I could put my horse up. It is a good one and, like enough, some of these fellows would take a fancy to it."
"I don't think that it would be safe in any farmhouse within ten miles of here; but if you like to come with me, my hut stands at the edge of a wood, and you could leave him there without much risk."
"Thank you, very much; that would suit me well. It is just what I had intended to do, but in the darkness I have no great chance of finding a wood.
"How far are we from Erfurt, now?"
"About five miles."
"That will do very well. I have some business to do there, and can go and come back by the afternoon."
In a quarter of an hour they arrived at the man's house. It was but a small place.
"Not much to rob here," his host said grimly. "They have taken my two cows, and all my poultry. My horse only escaped because they did not think him fit for anything.
"This is a stranger, wife," he went on, as a woman rose, in some alarm, from a stool upon which she was crouching by the fire. "He will stop here for the night and, though there is little enough to offer him, at least we can make him welcome."
He took a torch from the corner of the room, lighted it at the fire, and went out.
"You are right about your horse, my friend," he said; "and it is small chance you would have of taking him back with you, if any of these fellows set eyes on him. I see your saddlery hardly matches with your horse."
Fergus had indeed, before starting, taken off his saddle and other military equipments; and had replaced them with a common country saddle and bridle, adding a pair of rough wallets and the commonest of horse cloths, so as to disguise the animal as much as possible.
"I am sorry that I cannot give you a feed for the animal," the man went on; "but I have none, and my horse has to make shift with what he can pick up."
"I have one of my wallets full. I baited the horse at inns, as I came along. He may as well have a feed, before I take him out into the wood."
He poured a good feed onto a flat stone. As he did so, the peasant's horse lifted up his head and snuffed the air.
"You shall have some too, old boy," Fergus said; and going across, was about to empty some on to the ground before it, when its owner, taking off his hat, held it out.
"Put it into this," he said. "It is seldom, indeed, that he gets such a treat; and I would not that he should lose a grain."
Fergus poured a bountiful feed into the hat.
"Now," he said, "I can supplement your supper, as well as your horse's;" and from the other wallet he produced a cold leg of pork, that Karl had put in before he started; together with three loaves; and two bottles of wine, carefully done up in straw.
The peasant looked astonished, as Fergus took these out and placed them upon the table.
"No, no, sir," he said, "we cannot take your food in that way."
"You are heartily welcome to it," Fergus said. "If you do not assist me to eat it, it will be wasted. Tomorrow I shall breakfast at Erfurt, and maybe dine, also. I will start as soon as I get back."
"Well, well, sir, it shall be as you please," the man said; "but it seems that we are reversing our parts, and that you have become the host, and we your guests."
It was a pleasant meal by the torch light. Many a month had passed since the peasants had tasted meat; and the bread, fresh from the Prussian bakeries, was of a very different quality to the black oaten bread to which they were accustomed. A horn of good wine completed their enjoyment.
When the meal was done, the man said: "Now, master, I will guide you to the wood."
There was no occasion to lead the horse; for it, as well as its companion, had been trained to follow their master like dogs, and to come to a whistle. The wood was but two or three hundred yards off, and the peasant led the way through the trees to a small open space in its centre. The saddle and bridle had been removed before they left the cottage; and Fergus tethered the horse, by a foot rope, to a sapling growing on the edge of the clearing. Then he patted it on the neck, and left it beginning to crop the short grass.
"It won't get much," the peasant said, "for my animal keeps it pretty short. It is his best feeding place, now; and I generally turn it out here, at night, when the day's work is done."
"What is its work, principally?"
"There is only one sort, now," the man said. "I cut faggots in the forest, and take a cart load into Erfurt, twice a week. I hope, by the spring, that all these troubles will be over, and then I cultivate two or three acres of ground; but so long as these French, and the Confederacy troops, who are as bad, are about, it is no use to think of growing anything.
"Now, sir, is there anything that I can do for you?" he went on, after they returned to the cottage, and had both lit their pipes and seated themselves by the fire.
"I can see that you are not what you look. A farmer does not ride about the country on a horse fit for a king, or put up at a cottage like this."
"Yes; you can help me by leading me by quiet paths to Erfurt. I tell you frankly that my business, there, is to find out how strong the French and Confederacy army is, in and around the town; also whether they are taking any precautions against an attack, and if there are any signs that they intend to enter Hanover, or to move towards Dresden."
"I daresay I can learn all that for you, without difficulty; for I supply several of the inns with faggots. There are troops quartered in all of them, and the helpers and servants are sure to hear what is going on. Not, of course, in the inns where the French are quartered, but where the German men are lodged. They speak plainly enough there, and indeed everyone knows that a great many of them are there against their will. The Hesse and Gotha and Dessau men would all prefer fighting on the Prussian side, but when they were called out they had to obey.
"At what time will you start?"
"I should like to get to Erfurt as soon as the place is astir."
"That is by five," the man said. "There is trumpeting and drumming enough by that time, and no one could sleep longer if they wanted to."
"Then we will start at dawn."
The peasant would have given up his bed to Fergus, but the latter would not hear of it, and said that he was quite accustomed to sleeping on the ground; whereupon the peasant went out, and returned with a large armful of rushes; which, as he told Fergus, he had cut only the day before to mend a hole in the thatch. Fergus was well content, for he knew well enough that he should sleep very much better, on fresh rushes, than he should in the peasant's bed place, where he would probably be assailed by an army of fleas.
As soon as the man and his wife were astir in the morning, Fergus got up; bathed his head and face in a tiny streamlet, that ran within a few yards of the house; then, after cutting a hunch of bread to eat on their way, the two started.
They did not come down upon the main road until within a mile and a half of the town, and they then passed through a large village, where a troop of French cavalry were engaged in grooming their horses. They attracted no attention whatever, and entered Erfurt at a quarter-past five. They separated when they got into the town, agreeing to meet in front of the cathedral, at eleven o'clock.
Fergus went to an eating house, where he saw a party of French non-commissioned officers and soldiers seated. They were talking freely, confident that neither the landlord, the man who was serving them, nor the two or three Germans present could understand them.
It was evident that they had very little confidence in Soubise.
"One would think," a sergeant said, "that we were going to change our nationality, and to settle down here for life. Here we have some fifty thousand men, and there is nothing to stop our going to Dresden, except some ten thousand or twelve thousand Prussians. They say that Daun has an army that could eat up Frederick, and it is certain that he could not spare a sergeant's guard to help bar the way.
"I cannot understand it, comrades. This leisurely way of making war may suit some people, but it is not our way."
"And we must admit that it is not the Prussians' way," another said. "They are our enemies; though why, I am sure I don't know. That is not our business. But the way that they dash out, and set the Austrians dancing, is really splendid. I wish that our own generals had a little of Fritz's energy and go."
There was a general murmur of assent.
"Here we are, September beginning, and next to nothing done. Now there would be enough to do, if Fritz could get away from Daun and dash off in this direction."
"Yes," another said, "there would be plenty to do, but I would not mind wagering that we should not wait for him; and after all, I am not sure if it would not be the best thing to do, for these Germans with us are little better than a rabble."
"That is so, Francois; but, mixed up with us as they would be, they would have to fight whether they liked it or not. At any rate, if we don't mean to fight, what are we here for?"
"That I cannot say," another laughed; "but I own I am not so eager to fight as you seem to be. We are very comfortable. We ride about the country, we take pretty well what we like. It is better than being in barracks, at home.
"While, on the other hand, it is no joke fighting these Prussians. The fights are not skirmishes, they are battles. It is not a question of a few hundred killed, it is a question of ding-dong fighting, and of fifteen or twenty thousand killed on each side--no joke, that. For my part, I am quite content to take it easy at Erfurt, and to leave it to the Austrians to settle matters with these obstinate fellows."
So they continued talking, and Fergus saw that, so far, no news whatever of Frederick's march against Erfurt had reached them. He learned, too, that although there were some outlying bodies to the north, the main bulk of the force lay in and around Erfurt.
The contempt with which the French soldiers spoke of the German portion of the army was very great. Each little state had, by the order of the Council of the Confederacy, been compelled to furnish a contingent, even if its representatives in the council had opposed the proposal; therefore very many of the men had joined unwillingly, while in other cases the French declared that the levy had been made up by hiring idlers and ne'er-do-wells in the towns, so as to avoid having to put the conscription into force in the rural districts.
The officers were declared to be as incapable as the men, and had it not been that an Austrian contingent some five thousand strong had been joined with them, and the drilling largely undertaken by the non-commissioned officers of this force, nothing approaching order or discipline could have been maintained. All the Frenchmen lamented their fortune in having to act with such allies, instead of being with the purely French army that was gradually pressing the Duke of Cumberland to the seaboard.
Fergus waited until the party had left the inn, when the landlord himself came across to hand him his reckoning.
"Bad times, master," he said. "Bad times," shaking his head ruefully.
"Yes, they are bad enough, landlord; but I should say that you must be doing a good trade, with all these soldiers in the town."
"A good trade!" the landlord repeated. "I am being ruined. Do you not know that, in addition to levying a heavy contribution on the town, they issued a regulation settling the prices at which the troops were to be served, at beer shops and inns: breakfast--and you saw what those fellows ate--4 pence; a tumbler of wine, 1 pence; dinner, 5 pence. Why, each item costs me more than double that; and as nobody brings in cattle, for these might be seized on the way, and no compensation given, so meat gets dearer. We are waiting until there is none to be had, on any terms; and then we shall send representatives to the general, to point out to him that it is absolutely impossible for us to obey the regulations.
"Ah, these are terrible times! We could not have suffered more than this, had Coburg joined Frederick; though they say that Richelieu's French army is plundering even worse, in Hanover and the country beyond it, than Soubise is doing here.
"Moreover, one would rather be plundered by an enemy than by fellows who pretend to come hither as friends. If Frederick would march in here, I would open my house free to all comers, and would not grudge the last drop of wine in my cellar."
"There is never any saying," Fergus replied. "The King of Prussia always appears when least expected, and more unlikely things have happened than that he should appear here, some fine morning."
[Illustration: As Fergus was sallying out, a mounted officer dashed by at a gallop] Having paid his reckoning, he went to the door. As he was sallying out, a mounted officer dashed by at a headlong gallop; his horse was flecked with foam, and it was evident that he had ridden far and fast, on an important errand.
Having nothing to do until he should meet the peasant, Fergus followed the officer at a leisurely pace; and in five minutes came up with the horse, held by a soldier at the entrance gate of a very large house. Sentries were pacing up and down in front of it, and officers going in and out.
"Is that the headquarters of the French general?" he asked a townsman.
"Yes," and the man walked on with a muttered malediction.
A few minutes later several mounted officers rode out, and dashed off in haste in various directions.
"There is evidently something up," Fergus said to himself. "Perhaps they have got news of the Prussian approach."
In a quarter of an hour several general officers arrived, and entered the house. It was evident that a council of war had been summoned. Half an hour elapsed, and then a number of aides-de-camp and staff officers rode off in haste. A few minutes later, a trumpet sounded a regimental call, and then the assembly.
Before it had died away, similar calls echoed from all parts of the town. Soldiers ran hastily through the streets, mounted officers dashed in every direction, and the citizens came to their doors, in surprise at this sudden movement.
Fergus had no longer any doubt about the cause of the stir. The great thing, now, was to ascertain whether the army would advance to take up some strong position outside the town and oppose the Prussian advance, or whether they would march away.
Being fifty thousand in number, the former would appear to be the natural course for a general to adopt; as Frederick had with him but twenty-three thousand men. Of this fact, however, Soubise would be ignorant, and might only have heard that the Prussian army was marching to annihilate him.
Before long baggage waggons began to clatter through the streets. They were being driven westward, and it was in the same direction that the regiments made their way.
Fergus followed them to the plain outside the town. The tents had already been struck; the troops, as they arrived from the town and camp, were marshalled in order; a long train of baggage waggons were already making their way westward; and there was no longer any grounds for doubt that Soubise was retreating.
It was just eleven o'clock when Fergus returned to the cathedral. The peasant was awaiting him.
"They all seem on the move," the latter said. "I have heard much about them."
"It does not matter, now," Fergus replied. "I must get back to your place, as quickly as I can."
Not a word was spoken, until they had left the town.
"They must be going up into Hanover, to join the French army there," the peasant said.
"They are running away. Frederick will be here tomorrow night, or at any rate next day."
"The news seems too good to be true, master. How have you learnt it?"
"I have learnt it from no one here. I am one of the king's officers, and I came on here to find out whether the enemy would be likely to come out and fight, or would bolt when they heard of his advance."
"The Lord be praised!" the man said piously, taking off his hat as he spoke. "I thought, sir, that there was something curious in your having such a horse; and still more so, in your wanting to find out all about the force of the enemy here. But it was no business of mine; and I felt that you must be a friend for, had you been Austrian or French, you would have ridden boldly into the town."
As they went along the road they were met by several troops of cavalry, riding at full speed.
"Is the way we came this morning the shortest?"
"Yes, sir, by a good mile."
"Then we will return by it," said Fergus.
As soon as they left the main road they went at a run for some distance, and then broke into a fast walk. In an hour from the time of leaving Erfurt, they arrived at the hut.
"I will run along and fetch your horse, sir," the peasant said.
"No, I will go myself. He does not know you, and might refuse to let you come near him."
In a few minutes, Fergus returned with his horse. The saddle, bridle, and wallets were quickly put on. Fergus dropped his pistols into his saddlebags, and buckled on the sword he had brought with him. It was not his own, but one he had bought at starting--a good piece of steel, but with a battered and rusty sheath that showed that it had been lying for weeks, possibly for months, on some field of battle before being picked up.
Then, with a word of adieu and thanks to the peasant and his wife, and slipping a crown piece into the hand of the latter, he mounted and rode off.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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10
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: Rossbach.
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Fergus knew that there were several cavalry posts ahead, and thought it likely that some of these might be left to give warning of the Prussian approach. He therefore rode across the country for some miles. He had begun to think that he must have gone beyond the limit of their outposts, when he saw a hussar pacing across the line in front of him, his beat evidently being between two small woods three or four hundred yards apart.
He checked his horse, as he saw Fergus approaching. He was a good-tempered looking fellow, and nodded to Fergus as much as to say that, if he could speak his language, he should like a chat with him. The latter at once checked his horse, and said good day, in French.
"Ah, you speak our language!" the soldier said. "I am glad to exchange a word with someone. It is hot here, especially when one's time is up, and one ought to have been relieved, an hour ago."
"Yes, I can understand that. I expect you have been forgotten."
"Well, it does not make much difference. I shall get off my next guard, in consequence."
"You will have to wait some time before you are relieved, if you stop here."
"What do you mean?" the soldier asked.
"I mean that when I left Erfurt your army was all moving west, and as I rode along I met several troops of cavalry, galloping to join them."
"That is strange news. Nothing whatever was known, when I came out here."
"No, the news only arrived at Erfurt, this morning, that Frederick's army is within a day's march; and I saw the troops march out, and the baggage waggons on their way before I started. I don't say that your troop may have gone. They may have stopped to form a post of observation."
"Well, at any rate I shall go into the village and see. I ought to have been relieved an hour ago; and if they had such news as that, and had remained there, they would have been sure to have sent, to order all videttes to use special vigilance. We have only been posted here as a sort of practice, for we did not think that there was an enemy within a hundred and fifty miles; and now, if the news is true, we may have the Prussian cavalry coming along at any moment.
"Well, thank you for warning me," and turning his horse, he went off at a gallop.
As the outposts would not have been set, except by the party most in advance, Fergus knew that there was now no more risk of falling in with the enemy; unless a cavalry force had been sent forward, to endeavour to get an idea of the force of the Prussians. But as the generals had so precipitately decided upon a retreat, it was not likely that they would have ordered any reconnaissance of this kind to be made.
He therefore presently regained the main road and, riding fast, arrived at the place where the Prussians had pitched their camp, thirty miles from Erfurt, having made a twenty-miles march that day. He dismounted at the house where Keith had established his quarters.
"I have bad news for you, sir," he said. "Word of your coming reached Erfurt, at eight o'clock this morning; and by eleven the whole army were on their march westward, bag and baggage."
"That is bad news, Fergus. You could hardly have brought worse. The king had hoped to have struck a heavy blow, and then to be off again to face the Austrians. What strength were they?"
"About fifty thousand."
"How did they get the news of our coming?"
"That I cannot say, sir. I had gone into Erfurt soon after five, and had already picked up a good deal of news, from the talk of a party of French non-commissioned officers who were taking breakfast at a small inn; and who, not imagining that I could understand them, talked very freely over affairs. They sat over their meal some time, and I did not go out until they had left.
"Just as I did so, a mounted officer galloped past, at a speed that showed he was the bearer of an important despatch. I followed him to Soubise's headquarters. While there, I noticed several mounted officers rode out in great haste. A quarter of an hour later, several general officers arrived. There was a consultation for half an hour, and then officers rode off in all directions; and in a few minutes trumpets were sounding, and drums beating, all over the town.
"In a very short time a movement began towards the western gate. By ten o'clock the tents were all struck round the town, the waggons loaded, and they were on their way west. An hour later, and the whole force was in movement in that direction; and as I issued from the town on this side, I met the cavalry that had been scattered among the villages, galloping in. I don't think that there is, at the present moment, an enemy within ten miles of Erfurt."
"You were in no danger, yourself?"
"None at all, sir. I passed the night at a friendly peasant's hut, five miles this side of the town, inside their advanced posts. I left my horse in a wood, and my peasant guided me by bypaths to the town. I did not exchange a word with anyone, except the landlord of the hotel where I breakfasted. He was bitterly hostile to the enemy.
"I also spoke to a solitary French vidette who had, in the hurry of their retreat, been left behind; and told him that he had best be off, as the whole army was in full march for the west."
"Well, if you breakfasted at six this morning, you must be hungry. My dinner will be ready in half an hour, and you had better share it with me. I must go now, and tell the king the news that you have brought. I said nothing to him about my having sent you."
In twenty minutes the marshal returned.
"The king wishes to see you, Fergus. Of course he is vexed, but he always takes bad news well, unless it is the result of the blunder of one of the officers. He does not say much, even then; but it is very bad for that officer when he sees him. Frederick never forgives a blunder."
"Well, Captain Drummond, so you have been playing the spy for us?"
"I have been doing my best, your majesty."
"And the French are gone, bag and baggage?"
"Yes, sire, they have gone off west."
"To perch themselves somewhere among the mountains, I suppose. Perhaps they will get bolder, presently, when they hear that they are more than double my strength. Did you learn anything more than what Marshal Keith has told me?"
"I heard a great deal of talk among a party of French non-commissioned officers, sire. They expressed great dissatisfaction with their general, and at the long delays. They also spoke with absolute contempt of the Confederacy army, both officers and men; and said that, if it had not been for the drilling by the Austrian non-commissioned officers, they would be nothing better than a rabble."
"I daresay Soubise is of the same opinion," the king said, "and wants them to have a few weeks' more drill before he sets them in line of battle. However, I have no doubt we shall manage to bring him to book, before we return.
"Well, I am obliged to you for your zeal, Captain Drummond; and although Keith tells me that you got in without being questioned, such business is always dangerous. Mayhap next time you will have a better opportunity for distinguishing yourself. As you managed to pass so freely among them, after you made your escape from prison, you can clearly be trusted on work of this kind."
Fergus saluted, and retired.
The next morning the troops started, as usual, at daybreak. They were to make but a short march, for they had no longer any occasion for speed, and they had made the hundred and fifty miles at a very rapid pace; but when they halted, Frederick with the cavalry rode straight on into Erfurt.
"Don't wait to put on your uniform now," Keith said to Fergus, on his return from the royal quarters; "dinner is waiting; and I am ready, if you are not. Lindsay is going to dine with me, too."
"Well, Lindsay," the marshal said, as the latter entered, "you see the advantages of this young fellow being able to speak German well. If you had been taken prisoner at Lobositz, you would have been fast in Spielberg at present; and you see he is now able to undertake perilous missions, and peril means promotion."
"I quite see that, marshal," Lindsay said with a smile; "but though I can get on with French fairly enough, my tongue doesn't seem to be able to form these crack-jaw German words; and you see, marshal, it is not the only one that does not. I think, sir, that bad as my German is, it is not much worse than your own, and you have been here much longer than I have."
The marshal laughed.
"You are right. I cannot say half a dozen German words; but you see I have not had your motive for acquiring it, and cannot very well get promotion. And again, it would not do for me to speak better German than the King of Prussia; who, beyond a few words necessary for animating his troops on occasion, knows very little German himself. For general work here French is amply sufficient, because every officer speaks it; but as you see, German is very useful, too, to a young officer who wishes to push himself forward, and is willing to undertake special work of this kind."
"But even then, marshal, he would have no advantage over a Prussian officer who speaks French."
"It depends a good deal upon the Prussian officer. The greater portion of them are mere machines--splendid fighting machines, no doubt; but of no great use outside their own work. Anyone could detect, with half an eye, nineteen out of twenty of them; dress them how you would, disguise them as you like. They step the regulation length, bring their foot down in the regulation way, are as stiff as if they had swallowed a ramrod. They have neither suppleness nor adaptability. They are so accustomed to obey that they have almost lost the power of originating, and would be taken and shot before they were in the enemy's lines ten minutes. Now, Fergus has the advantage of knowing both languages, and of being quick-witted and sharp."
The next two months were passed in marches to and fro. Seidlitz, with some cavalry, took possession of Gotha, to the great satisfaction of the duke and duchess; and the king himself rode over and dined with them.
While Seidlitz remained there as governor, with a couple of regiments of horse, a strong body of French and Austrian hussars, grenadiers, and artillery marched against Gotha. Seidlitz, having so few men to oppose them, evacuated the place, and the enemy marched into it in triumphant procession. The duke and duchess made the best of matters, and invited all the principal officers to a banquet.
Just as they were sitting down to this, Seidlitz with his Prussians reappeared; his men being so artfully scattered about that they appeared a great deal stronger than they were. The enemy were seized with panic. Soubise and his generals mounted in great haste, and in a few minutes the whole were retreating at top speed; Seidlitz pursuing for some distance, killing thirty and taking sixty prisoners, with a large amount of baggage and plunder, and then returning to Gotha to eat the dinner prepared for the enemy.
Ferdinand of Brunswick, with his division, had been sent off to check, if possible, the movements of the French army under Richelieu, near Magdeburg.
In October came the startling news that Berlin itself was threatened, and that a force, said to be fifteen thousand strong, under General Haddick, was in rapid motion towards it. Prince Maurice was ordered to hasten to its defence, and the king also moved in that direction.
The invading force was but four thousand strong. Their numbers, however, were so magnified by rumour that the governor of Berlin, who had but four thousand troops, did not venture to oppose them, but sent the royal family and archives away under a strong escort. Haddick occupied a suburb of the city, but knowing that as soon as his real force was known he would be hotly opposed, and receiving news that Prince Maurice was rapidly approaching, demanded a ransom of 45,000 pounds; and finally accepted 27,000 pounds, and then hurried away. Prince Maurice arrived twenty-four hours later.
The consequences of this little success--magnified by report into "Berlin captured, Prussian royal family in flight." --turned out very advantageous to Frederick. The enthusiasm in Paris and Vienna was enormous, and orders were despatched to the armies to set to, without further delay, and finish the work. Fifteen thousand men were sent from Richelieu's army to reinforce Soubise, who thereupon issued from his mountain stronghold and marched against Leipzig.
Frederick, however, arrived there first, Ferdinand and Maurice joining him a day or two later; and while waiting there, Frederick received the joyful news that England requested him to appoint Duke Ferdinand, of Brunswick, commander-in-chief of the army until now commanded by the Duke of Cumberland, who had just sailed for England.
Pitt had now risen to almost absolute power in England, and was busied in reforming the abuses in the army and navy, dismissing incapable officials, and preparing to render some efficient aid to its hard-pressed ally. The proposal that Prince Ferdinand should assume the command of the army--whose efforts had hitherto been rendered nugatory by the utter incompetence of the Duke of Cumberland who, although personally as brave as a lion, was absolutely ignorant of war--afforded immense satisfaction to the king.
No better choice could have been made. Ferdinand was related to the royal families both of England and Prussia. He was a capable general, prudent and at the same time enterprising, firm under difficulties, ready to seize opportunities; and under his command there was no doubt that the northern army, which had hitherto been useless, and had only been saved from absolute destruction by the incompetence of the French generals, would now play a useful part.
On October 30th Soubise, in spite of his orders to fight, and the fact that he had double the strength of the Prussians, fell back before them. Soubise himself felt no confidence in his troops, but upon the other hand his officers and those of the Confederate army were puffed up with vanity, and remonstrated hotly against retreat.
The next day Frederick came in sight of Soubise's army, which was camped on a height near the town of Weissenfels. Frederick had but one-half of his force with him, the other half, under Keith, being still detached. Five thousand men garrisoned Weissenfels, but Frederick made short work of the place. His cannon burst down the gates, and his troops rushed forward with all speed; but the garrison fled across the bridge over the Saale, which had already been prepared for burning; and they set it on fire in such haste that four hundred were unable to cross, and were made prisoners. The fugitives joined their army on the other side of the Elbe, and its guns opened upon the burning bridge, to prevent the Prussians from trying to extinguish the flames.
The Prussians returned the fire, and the artillery duel was kept up until three o'clock, by which time the bridge was consumed. Frederick had already fixed upon a spot suitable for the erection of another, and during the night, while the enemy were falling back to take up a fresh position upon higher ground, the engineers, working diligently, succeeded in throwing a bridge across.
Keith arrived at Merseburg the next morning. A strong force lay opposite, ready to dispute the passage; but when Soubise found that the king was crossing by his new bridge, he called in all his detachments and marched away, to a strong position, and there set himself in array ready to receive an attack. Keith's bridges were finished on the 3rd of November, and that afternoon he crossed and joined Frederick.
On the 4th the army was on the move by two o'clock in the morning. A bright moon was shining and, by its light, it was discovered that the enemy had shifted his position for one much stronger, with approaches protected by patches of wood and bog. The Prussian army therefore marched back to their camp, the king hoping that, being so far from their base of supplies, the enemy would be forced ere long to make some movement that would afford him a chance of attacking them under better circumstances.
The ground from Weissenfels rises, very gradually, to a height of a hundred and twenty feet or so; which in so flat a country is regarded as a hill. On this slight swelling are several small villages. Of these Rossbach is the principal, standing high up on its crest. Here Frederick's right wing was posted, while his left was at Bedra. The king took up his quarters at a large house in Rossbach; and from its roof, at eight o'clock on the morning of the 5th, he saw that the enemy were getting into motion and moving away towards their left.
The movement had begun much earlier. Half an hour later they had passed through the village of Grost, and were apparently making their way to Freiburg, where they had some magazines. Hoping to have a chance of attacking their rear, Frederick ordered the cavalry to saddle, and the whole army to be in readiness, and then sat down to dinner with his officers at noon. Little did he dream, at the time, that the slow and clumsy movement that he was watching was intended, by the enemy, to end in a flank attack on himself.
On the previous day Soubise, with his generals, looking down on the Prussian camp, had reckoned their force at ten thousand. In reality they had seen only a portion of their camp, the site being hidden by a dip of the ground. Even Soubise thought that, with the odds of over five to one in his favour, he could fight a battle with a certainty of success; and planned a masterly march, by which he would place himself on Frederick's left and rear, drive him into the bend made by the Saale, and annihilate his army. In his enthusiasm at this happy idea, he sent off a courier to carry the news, to Versailles, that he was about to annihilate the Prussian army, and take the king prisoner.
Frederick's dinner was prolonged. There was nothing to be done, and patience was one of the king's strong points. At two o'clock an officer, who had remained on watch on the housetop, hurried down with news that the enemy had suddenly turned to the left. The king went up to the roof with his officers, and at once divined the intention of his foes.
It was a glorious moment for him. At last, after three weary months, he was to meet them in battle. Instantly his orders were given, and in half an hour the Prussian army was all in movement, with the exception of some irregular corps which were left to occupy the attention of the enemy's horse, which had been posted as if to threaten Rossbach. By the line taken, the Prussians were at once hidden behind the crest of the hill from the enemy; and so Soubise thought that the Prussians, being afraid of his attack, were marching away with all speed for Keith's bridge at Merseburg. He accordingly hurried on his cavalry, and ordered the infantry to go at a double, for the purpose of capturing the runaway Prussians.
In the meantime Seidlitz, with four thousand horse, trotted briskly along until he reached, still concealed from the enemy's sight, the spot towards which they were hurrying, in two great columns headed by seven thousand cavalry. He allowed them to move forward until he was on their flank, and then dashed over the crest of the hill, and charged like a thunderbolt upon them.
Taken completely by surprise, the enemy's cavalry had scarce time to form. Two Austrian regiments and two French were alone able to do so. But there was no withstanding the impetus of the Prussian charge. They rode right through the disordered cavalry; turned, formed, and recharged, and four times cut their way through them, until they broke away in headlong flight; and were pursued by Seidlitz until out of sight from the hill, when he turned and waited, to see where he could find an opportunity of striking another blow.
By this time Frederick, with the infantry, was now pouring over the crest of the hill, their advance heralded by the fire of twenty-four guns. Rapidly, in echelon, they approached the enemy. In vain Soubise endeavoured to face round the column, thus taken in flank, to meet the coming storm. He was seconded by Broglio and the commander of the Confederate army, but the two columns were jammed together, and all were in confusion at this astounding and unexpected attack. Orders were unheard or disobeyed, and everything was still in utter disorder, when six battalions of Prussian infantry hurled themselves upon them.
When forty paces distant, they poured in their first terrible volley, and then continued their fire as fast as they could load; creating great havoc among the French troops on whom they had fallen, while away on each flank the Prussian artillery made deep gaps in the line. Soon the mass, helpless under this storm of fire, wavered and shook; and then Seidlitz, who had been concealed with his cavalry in a hollow a short distance away, hurled himself like a thunderbolt on their rear, and in a moment they broke up in headlong flight. In less than half an hour from the first appearance of the Prussians on the hill, the struggle had ended, and an army of from fifty to sixty thousand men was a mob of fugitives; defeated by a force of but twenty-two thousand men, not above half of whom were engaged.
The loss of the allies was three thousand killed and wounded, five thousand prisoners, and seventy-two guns; while the Prussians lost but one hundred and sixty-five killed, and three hundred and seventy-six wounded. The victory was one of the most remarkable and surprising ever gained, for these figures by no means represent the full loss to the defeated.
The German portion of the army, after being chased for many miles, scattered in all directions; and only one regiment reached Erfurt in military order, and in two days the whole of the men were on their way to their homes, in the various states composing the Confederation. The French were in no less disgraceful a condition. Plundering as they went, a mere disorganized rabble, they continued their flight until fifty-five miles from the field of battle, and were long before they gathered again in fighting order.
The joy caused in Prussia and in England, by this astonishing victory, was shared largely by the inhabitants of the country through which the French army had marched. Everywhere they had plundered and pillaged, as if they had been moving through an enemy's country instead of one they had professed to come to deliver. The Protestant inhabitants had everywhere been most cruelly maltreated, the churches wrecked, and the pastors treated as criminals. The greater portion of Germany therefore regarded the defeat of the French as a matter for gratification, rather than the reverse.
In England the result was enormous. It had the effect of vastly strengthening Pitt's position, and twenty thousand British troops were, ere long, despatched to join the army under the Duke of Brunswick, which was now called the allied army, and from this time the French force under Richelieu ceased to be dangerous to Frederick. France and England were old antagonists, and entered upon a duel of their own; a duel that was to cost France Canada, and much besides; to establish England's naval preponderance; and to extinguish French influence in the Netherlands.
Fergus Drummond was not under fire, at the memorable battle of Rossbach. Keith's division was not, in fact, engaged; the affair having terminated before it arrived. Keith, however, had ridden to the position on the brow of the hill where the king had stationed himself; and his staff, following him, had the satisfaction of seeing the enemy's heavy columns melt into a mass of fugitives, and spread in all directions over the country, like dust driven before a sudden whirlwind.
"What next, I wonder?" Fergus said to Lindsay; who had, three days before, been promoted to the rank of captain, as much to the satisfaction of Fergus as to his own.
"I suppose some more marching," Lindsay replied. "You may be sure that we shall be off east again, to try conclusions with Prince Karl. Bevern seems to be making a sad mess of it there. Of course he is tremendously outnumbered, thirty thousand men against eighty thousand; but he has fallen back into Silesia without making a single stand, and suffered Prince Karl to plant himself between Breslau and Schweidnitz; and the Prince is besieging the latter town with twenty thousand men, while with sixty thousand he is facing Bevern."
Four days after the victory, indeed, Frederick set out with thirteen thousand men; leaving Prince Henry to maintain the line of the Saale, and guard Saxony; while Marshal Keith was to go into Bohemia, raise contributions there, and threaten as far as might be the Austrian posts in that country.
Fergus, however, went with the king's army, the king having said to the Marshal: "Keith, lend me that young aide-de-camp of yours. I have seen how he can be trusted to carry a despatch, at whatever risk to his life. He is ingenious and full of devices; and he has luck, and luck goes for a great deal.
"I like him, too. I have observed that he is always lively and cheery, even at the end of the longest day's work. I notice too that, even though your relation, he never becomes too familiar; and his talk will be refreshing, when I want something to distract my thoughts from weighty matters."
So Fergus went with the king, who could ill afford to lose Keith from his side. With none was he more friendly and intimate and, now that Schwerin had gone, he relied upon him more implicitly than upon any other of his officers.
But Keith had been, for some time, unwell. He was suffering from asthma and other ailments that rendered rapid travel painful to him; and he would obtain more rest and ease, in Bohemia, than he could find in the rapid journey the king intended to make.
On the fifth day of his march Frederick heard, to his stupefaction, that Schweidnitz had surrendered. The place was an extremely strong one, and the king had relied confidently upon its holding out for two or three months. Its fortifications were constructed in the best manner; it was abundantly supplied with cannon, ammunition, and provisions; and its surrender was inexcusable.
The fault was doubtless, to a large degree, that of its commandant, who was a man of no resolution or resources; but it was also partly due to the fact that a portion of the garrison were Saxons, who had at Pirna been obliged to enter the Prussian service. Great numbers of these deserted; a hundred and eighty of them, in one day, going over from an advanced post to the enemy. With troops like these, there could be no assurance that any post would be firmly held--a fact that might well shake the confidence of any commander in his power of resistance.
The blow was none the less severe, to Frederick, from being partly the result of his own mistaken step of enrolling men bitterly hostile in the ranks of the army. Still, disastrous as the news was, it did not alter his resolution; and at even greater speed than before he continued his march. Sometimes of an evening he sent for Fergus, and chatted with him pleasantly for an hour or two, asking him many questions of his life in Scotland, and discoursing familiarly on such matters, but never making any allusion to military affairs.
On the tenth day of the march they arrived at Gorlitz, where another piece of bad news reached Frederick. Prince Karl, after taking Schweidnitz, had fallen with sixty thousand men on Bevern. He had crossed by five bridges across the Loe, but each column was met by a Prussian force strongly intrenched. For the space of fifteen hours the battles had raged, over seven or eight miles of country. Five times the Austrians had attacked, five times had they been rolled back again; but at nine o'clock at night they were successful, more or less, in four of their attacks, while the Prussian left wing, under the command of Ziethen, had driven its assailants across the river again.
During the night Bevern had drawn off, marched through Breslau, and crossed the Oder, leaving eighty cannon and eight thousand killed and wounded--a tremendous loss, indeed, when the army at daybreak had been thirty thousand strong. Bevern himself rode out to reconnoitre, in the gray light of the morning, attended only by a groom, and fell in with an Austrian outpost. He was carried to Vienna, but being a distant relation of the emperor, was sent home again without ransom.
It was the opinion of Frederick that he had given himself up intentionally, and on his return he was ordered at once to take up his former official post at Stettin; where he conducted himself so well, in the struggle against the Russian armies, that two years later he was restored to Frederick's favour.
As if this misfortune was not great enough, two days later came the news that Breslau had surrendered without firing a shot; and this when it was known that the king was within two days' march, and pressing forward to its relief. Here ninety-eight guns and an immense store and magazine were lost to Prussia.
Frederick straightway issued orders that the general who had succeeded Bevern should be put under arrest, for not having at once thrown his army into Breslau; appointed Ziethen in his place, and ordered him to bring the army round to Glogau and meet him at Parchwitz on December 2nd, which Ziethen punctually did.
In spite of the terrible misfortunes that had befallen him, Frederick was still undaunted. Increased as it was by the arrival of Ziethen, his force was but a third of the strength of the Austrians. The latter were flushed with success; while Ziethen's troops were discouraged by defeat, and his own portion of the force worn out by their long and rapid marches, and by the failure of the object for which they had come. Calling his generals together on the 3rd, he recounted the misfortunes that had befallen them; and told them that his one trust, in this terrible position, was in their qualities and valour; and that he intended to engage the enemy, as soon as he found them, and that they must beat them or all of them perish in the battle.
Enthusiastically, the generals declared that they would conquer or die with him; and among the soldiers the spirit was equally strong, for they had implicit confidence in their king, and a well-justified trust in their own valour and determination. That evening Frederick, eager as he was to bring the terrible situation to a final issue, cannot but have felt that it would have been too desperate an undertaking to have attacked the enemy; posted as they were with a river (known as Schweidnitz Water) and many other natural difficulties covering their front, and having their flanks strengthened, as was the Austrian custom, with field works and batteries. Fortunately the Austrians settled the difficulty by moving out from their stronghold.
Daun had counselled their remaining there, but Prince Karl and the great majority of his military advisers agreed that it would be a shameful thing that ninety thousand men should shut themselves up, to avoid an attack by a force of but one-third their own strength; and that it was in all respects preferable to march out and give battle, in which case the Prussians would be entirely destroyed; whereas, if merely repulsed in an attack on a strong position, a considerable proportion might escape and give trouble in the future.
The Austrians, indeed, having captured Schweidnitz and Breslau, defeated Bevern, and in the space of three weeks made themselves masters of a considerable portion of Silesia, were in no small degree puffed up, and had fallen anew to despising Frederick. The blow dealt them at Prague had been obliterated by their success at Kolin; and Frederick's later success over the French and Federal army was not considered, by them, as a matter affecting themselves, although several Austrian regiments had been among Soubise's force. The officers were very scornful over the aggressive march of Frederick's small army, which they derisively called the Potsdam Guards' Parade; and many were the jokes cut, at the military messes, at its expense.
The difference, then, with which the two armies regarded the coming battle was great, indeed. On the one side there was the easy confidence of victory, the satisfaction that at length this troublesome little king had put himself in their power; on the other a deep determination to conquer or to die, a feeling that, terrible as the struggle must be, great as were the odds against them, they might yet, did each man do his duty, come out the victors in the struggle.
"And what think you of this matter, lad?" Frederick said, laying his hand familiarly on the young captain's shoulder.
"I know nothing about it, your majesty; but like the rest, I feel confident that somehow you will pull us through. Of one thing I am sure, that all that is possible for the men to do, your soldiers will accomplish."
"Well, we shall see. It is well that I know all the country round here, for many a review have I held of the garrison of Breslau, on the very ground where we are about to fight. Their position is a very strong one, and I am afraid that crafty old fox Daun will here, as he did at Prague, persuade Prince Karl to hide behind his batteries. Were it not for that, I should feel confident; whereas I now but feel hopeful. Still, I doubt not that we shall find our way in, somehow."
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{
"id": "19714"
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11
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: Leuthen.
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At four in the morning on Sunday, December 4th, Frederick marched from Parchwitz; intending to make Neumarkt, a small town some fourteen miles off, his quarters. When within two or three miles of this town he learned, to his deep satisfaction, that the Austrians had just established a great bakery there, and that a party of engineers were marking out the site for a camp; also that there were but a thousand Croats in the town. The news was satisfactory, indeed, for two reasons: the first being that the bakery would be of great use for his own troops; the second, that it was clear that the Austrians intended to advance across the Schweidnitz Water to give battle. It was evident that they could have had no idea that he was pressing on so rapidly, or they would never have established their bakery so far in advance, and protected by so small a force.
He lost no time in taking advantage of their carelessness, but sent a regiment of cavalry to seize the hills on both sides of the town; then marched rapidly forward, burst in the gates, and hurled the Croats in utter confusion from Neumarkt, while the cavalry dashed down and cut off their retreat. One hundred and twenty of them were killed, and five hundred and seventy taken prisoners. In the town the Austrian bakery was found to be in full work, and eighty thousand bread rations, still hot, were ready for delivery.
This initial success, and the unexpected treat of hot bread, raised the spirits of the troops greatly, and was looked upon as a happy augury.
Two or three hours before Neumarkt had been captured, the Austrian army was crossing the river, and presently received the unpleasant news of what had happened. Surprised at the news that the Prussians were so near, their generals at once set to work to choose a good position. This was not a difficult task, for the country was swampy, with little wooded rises and many villages.
They planted their right wing at the village of Nypern, which was practically unapproachable on account of deep peat bogs. Their centre was at a larger village named Leuthen, their left at Sagschuetz. The total length of its front was about six miles.
The Prussians started before daybreak next morning in four columns, Frederick riding on ahead with the vanguard. When near Borne, some eight miles from Neumarkt, he caught sight in the dim light of a considerable body of horse, stretching across the road in front of him as far as he could make out the line. The Prussian cavalry were at once ordered to charge down on their left flank.
The enemy proved to be five regiments of cavalry, placed there to guard the army from surprise. They, however, were themselves surprised; and were at once overthrown, and driven in headlong flight to take shelter behind their right wing at Nypern, five hundred and forty being taken prisoners, and a large number being killed or wounded.
Frederick rode on through Borne, ascended a small hill called the Scheuberg, to the right of the road, and as the light increased could, from that point, make out the Austrian army drawn up in battle array, and stretching from Nypern to Sagschuetz. Well was it for him that he had reviewed troops over the same ground, and knew all the bogs and morasses that guarded the Austrian front. For a long time he sat there on horseback, studying the possibilities of the situation.
The Austrian right he regarded as absolutely impregnable. Leuthen might be attacked with some chance of success, but Sagschuetz offered by far the most favourable opening for attack. The formation of the ground offered special facilities for the movement being effected without the Austrians being aware of what was taking place, for there was a depression behind the swells and broken ground in front of the Austrian centre, by which the Prussians could march from Borne, unseen by the enemy, until they approached Sagschuetz.
It was three hours after Frederick had taken up his place before the four columns had all reached Borne. As soon as they were in readiness there, they were ordered to march with all speed as far as Radaxford, thence to march in oblique order against the Austrian left.
The Austrians, all this time, could observe a group of horsemen on the hill, moving sometimes this way sometimes that, but more than this they could not see. The conjectures were various, as hour passed after hour. Daun believed that the Prussians must have marched away south, with the intention of falling upon the magazines in Bohemia, and that the cavalry seen moving along the hills were placed there to defend the Prussians from being taken in flank, or in rear, while thus marching. General Lucchesi, who commanded the Austrian right wing, was convinced that the cavalry formed the Prussian right wing, and that the whole army, concealed behind the slopes, was marching to fall upon him.
In the belfry of the church at Leuthen, on the tops of windmills, and on other points of vantage, Austrian generals with their staffs were endeavouring to obtain a glimpse beyond those tiresome swells, and to discover what was going on behind them, but in vain. There were the cavalry, moving occasionally from crest to crest, but nothing beyond that.
Lucchesi got more and more uneasy, and sent message after message to headquarters that he was about to be attacked, and must have a large reinforcement of horse. The prince and Daun at first scoffed at the idea, knowing that the bogs in front of Nypern were impassable; but at last he sent a message to the effect that, if the cavalry did not come, he would not be responsible for the issue.
It was thought, therefore, that he must have some good ground for his insistence; and Daun sent off the reserve of horse, and several other regiments drawn from the left wing, and himself went off at a trot, at their head, to see what was the matter.
It was just as he started that the Prussians--with their music playing, and the men singing: Gieb dass ich thu mit fleiss was mir zu thun gebuhret (Grant that with zeal and strength this day I do) had passed Radaxford and reached Lobetintz, and were about to advance in an oblique line to the attack. The king saw with delight the removal of so large a body of horse from the very point against which his troops would, in half an hour, be hurling themselves. Nothing could have suited his plans better.
At a rapid pace, and with a precision and order as perfect as if upon level ground, suddenly the Prussians poured over the swells on the flank of Sagschuetz. Nadasti, who commanded the Austrians there, was struck with astonishment at the spectacle of the Prussian army, which he believed to be far away, pouring down on his flank. The heads of the four columns, the artillery, and Ziethen's cavalry appeared simultaneously, marching swiftly and making no pause.
Being a good general, he lost not a moment in endeavouring to meet the storm. His left was thrown back a little, a battery of fourteen guns at the angle so formed opened fire, and he launched his cavalry against that of Ziethen. For the moment Ziethen's men were pushed back, but the fire from an infantry battalion, close by, checked the Austrian horse. They fell back out of range, and Ziethen, making a counter charge, drove them away.
In the meantime the Prussian infantry, as they advanced, poured a storm of fire upon the Austrian line, aided by a battery of ten heavy guns that Prince Maurice, who commanded here, had planted on a rise. A clump of fir trees, held by Croats in advance of the Austrian line, was speedily cleared; and then the Prussians broke down the abattis that protected the enemy's front, charged furiously against the infantry, and drove these before them, capturing Nadasti's battery.
In ten minutes after the beginning of the fight, the position of the Austrian left was already desperate. The whole Prussian army was concentrated against it and, being on its flank, crumpled the line up as it advanced. Prince Karl's aides-de-camp galloped at the top of their speed to bring Daun and the cavalry back again, and Austrian battalions from the centre were hurried down to aid Nadasti's, but were impeded by the retreating troops; and the confusion thickened, until it was brought to a climax by Ziethen's horse, which had been unable to act until now. But fir wood, quagmire, and abattis had all been passed by the Prussians, and they dashed into the mass, sabring and trampling down, and taking whole battalions prisoners.
Prince Karl exerted himself to the utmost to check the Prussian advance. Batteries were brought up and advantageously posted at Leuthen, heavy bodies of infantry occupied the village and its church, and took post so as to present a front to the advancing tide. Another quarter of an hour and the battle might have been retrieved; but long before the dispositions were all effected, the Prussians were at hand.
[Map: Battle of Leuthen] Nevertheless, by great diligence the Austrians had to some extent succeeded. Leuthen was the centre of the new position. Lucchesi was hastening up, while Nadasti swung backwards and tried, as he arrived, to form the left flank of the new position. All this was being done under a storm of shot from the whole of the Prussian artillery, which was so terrible that many battalions fell into confusion as fast as they arrived.
Leuthen, a straggling hamlet of over a mile in length, and with two or three streets of scattered houses, barns, farm buildings, and two churches, was crowded with troops; ready to fight but unable to do so, line being jammed upon line until sometimes a hundred deep, pressed constantly behind by freshly arriving battalions, and in front by the advancing Prussians. Some regiments were almost without officers.
Into this confused, straggling, helpless mass, prevented from opening out by the houses and inclosures, the Prussians, ever keeping their formation, poured their volleys with terrible effect; in such fashion as Drake's perfectly-handled ships poured their broadsides into the huge helpless Spanish galleons at Gravelines. With a like dogged courage as that shown by the Spanish, the Austrian masses suffered almost passively, while those occupying the houses and churches facing the Prussians resisted valiantly and desperately. From every window, every wall, their musketry fire flashed out; the resistance round the churchyard being specially stubborn. The churchyard had a high and strong wall, and so terrible was the fire from the roof of the church, and other spots of advantage, that the tide of Prussian victory was arrested for a time.
At last they made a rush. The churchyard gate was burst in, and the Austrians driven out. Leuthen was not yet won, but Frederick now brought up the left wing, which had till this time been held in reserve. These came on with levelled bayonets, and rushed into the fight.
The king was, as always, in the thick of the battle; giving his orders as coolly as if at a review, sending fresh troops where required, changing the arrangements as opportunity offered, keeping the whole machine in due order; and by his presence animating all with the determination to win or die, and an almost equal readiness to accept either alternative.
At last, after an hour's stubborn resistance, the Austrians were hurled out of Leuthen, still sternly resisting, still contesting every foot of the ground. Lucchesi now saw an opportunity of retrieving, with his great cavalry force, the terrible consequences of his own blunder, and led them impetuously down upon the flank of the Prussians. But Frederick had prepared for such a stroke; and had placed Draisen, with the left wing of the cavalry, in a hollow sheltered from the fire of the Austrian batteries, and bade him do nothing, attempt nothing, but cover the right flank of the infantry from the Austrian horse. He accordingly let Lucchesi charge down with his cavalry, and then rushed out on his rear, and fell suddenly and furiously upon him.
Astounded at this sudden and unexpected attack, and with their ranks swept by a storm of Prussian bullets, the Austrian cavalry broke and fled in all directions, Lucchesi having paid for his fault by dying, fighting to the last. His duty thus performed, Draisen was free to act, and fell upon the flank and rear of the Austrian infantry; and in a few minutes the battle was over, and the Austrians in full retreat.
They made, however, another attempt to stand at Saara; but it was hopeless, and they were soon pushed backwards again and, hotly pressed, poured over the four bridges across the Schweidnitz river, and for the most part continued their flight to Breslau. Until the Austrians had crossed the river the Prussian cavalry were on their rear, sabring and taking prisoners, while the infantry were halted at Saara, the sun having now set.
Exhausted as they were by their work, which had begun at midnight and continued until now without pause or break, not yet was their task completely done. The king, riding up the line, asked if any battalion would volunteer to follow him to Lissa, a village on the river bank. Three battalions stepped out. The landlord of the little inn, carrying a lantern, walked by the king's side.
As they approached the village, ten or twelve musket shots flashed out in the fields to the right. They were aimed at the lantern, but no one was hurt. There were other shots from Lissa, and it was evident that the village was still not wholly evacuated.
The infantry rushed forward, scattered through the fields, and drove out the lurking Croats. The king rode quietly on into the village, and entered the principal house. To his astonishment, he found it full of Austrian officers, who could easily have carried him off, his infantry being still beyond the village. They had but a small force remaining there and, believing that the Prussians had halted for the night at Saara, they were as much astonished as Frederick at his entrance. The king had the presence of mind to hide his surprise.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" he said. "Is there still room left for me, do you think?"
The Austrian officers, supposing, of course, that he had a large force outside, bowed deeply, escorted him to the best room in the house, and then slipped out at the back, collected what troops they could as they went, and hurried across the bridge. The Prussians were not long in entering, and very speedily cleared out the rest of the Austrians. They then crossed the bridge, and with a few guns followed in pursuit.
The army at Saara, on hearing the firing, betook itself again to arms and marched to the king's assistance, the twenty-five thousand men and their bands again joining in the triumphant hymn, "Nun danket alle Gott," as they tramped through the darkness. When they arrived at Lissa they found that all was safe, and bivouacked in the fields.
Never was there a greater or more surprising victory, never one in which the military genius of the commander was more strikingly shown. The Austrians were in good heart. They were excellent soldiers and brave, well provided with artillery, and strongly placed; and yet they were signally defeated by a force little over one-third their number. Had there been two more hours of daylight, the Austrians would have been not only routed but altogether crushed. Their loss was ten thousand left on the field, of whom three thousand were killed. Twelve thousand were taken prisoners, and one hundred and sixteen cannon captured.
To this loss must be added that of seventeen thousand prisoners taken when Breslau surrendered, twelve days later, together with a vast store of cannon and ammunition, including everything taken so shortly before from Bevern. Liegnitz surrendered, and the whole of Silesia, with the exception only of Schweidnitz, was again wrested from the Austrians. Thus in killed, wounded, and prisoners the loss of the Austrians amounted to as much as the total force of the Prussians.
The latter lost in killed eleven hundred and forty one, and in wounded about five thousand. Prince Maurice, upon whose division the brunt of the battle had fallen, was promoted to the rank of field marshal.
Fergus Drummond had been with the king throughout that terrible day. Until the battle began his duties had been light, being confined to the carrying of orders to Prince Maurice; after which he took his place among the staff and, dismounting, chatted with his acquaintances while Karl held his horse.
When, however, the fir tree wood was carried, and the king rode forward and took his place there during the attack upon the Austrian position at Sagschuetz, matters became more lively. The balls from the Austrian batteries sung overhead, and sent branches flying and trees crashing down. Sagschuetz won, the king followed the advancing line, and the air was alive with bullets and case shot.
[Illustration: The roar of battle was so tremendous that his horse was well-nigh unmanageable] After that Fergus knew little more of the battle, being incessantly employed in carrying orders through the thick of it to generals commanding brigades, and even to battalions. The roar of battle was so tremendous that his horse, maddened with the din and the sharp whiz of the bullets, at times was well-nigh unmanageable, and occupied his attention almost to the exclusion of other thoughts; especially after it had been struck by a bullet in the hind quarters, and had come to understand that those strange and maddening noises meant danger.
Not until after all was over was Fergus aware of the escapes he had had. A bullet had cut away an ornament from his headdress, one of his reins had been severed at a distance of an inch or two from his hand, a bullet had pierced the tail of his coatee and buried itself in the cantle of his saddle, and the iron guard of his claymore had been pierced. However, on his return to the king after carrying a despatch, he was able to curb his own excitement and that of his horse, and to make the formal military salute as he reported, in a calm and quiet voice, that he had carried out the orders with which he had been charged.
It was with great gratification that he heard the king say that evening, as he and his staff supped together at the inn at Lissa: "You have done exceedingly well today, Captain Drummond. I am very pleased with you. You were always at my elbow when I wanted you, and I observed that you were never flurried or excited; though indeed, there would have been good excuse for a young soldier being so, in such a hurly burly. You are over young for further promotion, for a year or two; but I must find some other way of testifying my satisfaction at your conduct."
And, indeed, when the list of promotions for bravery in the field was published, a few days later, Fergus's name appeared among those who received the decoration of the Prussian military order, an honour fully as much valued as promotion.
For a time he lost the service of Karl, who had been seriously although not dangerously wounded, just before the Austrians were driven out of Leuthen.
The news of the battle filled the Confederates with stupefaction and dismay. Prince Karl was at once recalled, and was relieved from military employment, Daun being appointed to the supreme command. The Prince withdrew to his government of the Netherlands, and there passed the remainder of his days in peace and quiet. His army was hunted by Ziethen's cavalry to Koeniggraetz, losing two thousand prisoners and a large amount of baggage; and thirty-seven thousand men only, of the eighty thousand that stood in battle array at Leuthen, reached the sheltering walls of the fortress, and those in so dilapidated and worn out a condition that, by the end of a week after arriving there, no less than twenty-two thousand were in hospital.
Thus, after eight months of constant and weary anxiety, Frederick, by the two heavy blows he had dealt successfully at the Confederates, stood in a far better position than he had occupied at the opening of the first campaign; when, as his enemies fondly believed, Prussia would be captured and divided without the smallest difficulty.
Frederick wintered at Breslau, whither came many visitors from Prussia, and there was a constant round of gaieties and festivity. Frederick himself desired nothing so much as peace. Once or twice there had been some faint hope that this might be brought about by his favourite sister, Wilhelmina, who had been ceaseless in her efforts to effect it; but the two empresses and the Pompadour were alike bent on avenging themselves on the king, and the reverses that they had suffered but increased their determination to overwhelm him.
Great as Frederick's success had been, it did not blind him to the fact that his position was almost hopeless. When the war began, he had an army of a hundred and fifty thousand of the finest soldiers in the world. The two campaigns had made frightful gaps in their ranks. At Prague he had fought with eighty thousand men, at Leuthen he had but thirty thousand. His little kingdom could scarcely supply men to fill the places of those who had fallen, while his enemies had teeming populations from which to gather ample materials for fresh armies. It seemed, even to his hopeful spirit, that all this could have but one ending; and that each success, however great, weakened him more than his adversaries.
The winter's rest was, however, most welcome. For the moment there was nothing to plan, nothing to do, save to order that the drilling of the fresh levies should go on incessantly; in order that some, at least, of the terrible gaps in the army might be filled up before the campaign commenced in the spring.
1758 began badly, for early in January the Russians were on the move. The empress had dismissed, and ordered to be tried by court martial, the general who had done so little the previous year; had appointed Field Marshal Fermor to command in his place, and ordered him to advance instantly and to annex East Prussia in her name.
On the 16th of January he crossed the frontier, and six days later entered Koenigsberg and issued a proclamation to the effect that his august sovereign had now become mistress of East Prussia, and that all men of official or social position must at once take the oath of allegiance to her.
East Prussia had been devastated the year before by marauders, and its hatred of Russia was intense; but the people were powerless to resist. Some fled, leaving all behind them; but the majority were forced to take the required oath, and for a time East Prussia became a Russian province. Nevertheless its young men constantly slipped away, when opportunity offered, to join the Prussian army; and moneys were frequently collected by the impoverished people to despatch to Frederick, to aid him in his necessities.
A far greater assistance was the English subsidy of 670,000 pounds, which was paid punctually for four years, and was of supreme service to him. It was spent thriftily, and of all the enormous sums expended by this country in subsidizing foreign powers, none was ever laid out to a tenth of the advantage of the 2,680,000 pounds given to Frederick.
In the north the campaign also opened early. Ferdinand of Brunswick bestirred himself, defeated the French signally at Krefeld, and drove them headlong across the Rhine. Frederick, too, took the field early, and on the 15th of March moved from Breslau upon Schweidnitz. The siege began on the 1st of April, and on the 16th the place surrendered. Four thousand nine hundred prisoners of war were taken, with fifty-one guns and 7000 pounds in money.
Three days later Frederick, with forty thousand men, was off; deceived Daun as to his intentions, entered Moravia, and besieged Olmuetz. Keith was with him again, and Fergus had returned to his staff. The march was conducted with the marvellous precision and accuracy that characterized all Frederick's movements, but Olmuetz was a strong place and stoutly defended.
The Prussian engineers, who did not shine at siege work, opened their trenches eight hundred yards too far away. The magazines were too far off, and Daun, who as usual carefully abstained from giving battle, so cut up the convoys that, after five weeks of vain endeavours, the king was obliged to raise the siege; partly owing to the loss of the convoy that would have enabled him to take the town, which was now at its last extremity; and partly that he knew that the Russians were marching against Brandenburg.
He made a masterly retreat, struck a heavy blow at Daun by capturing and destroying his principal magazine, and then took up a very strong position near Koeniggraetz. Here he could have maintained himself against all Daun's assaults, for his position was one that Daun had himself held and strongly fortified; but the news from the north was of so terrible a nature that he was forced to hurry thither.
The Cossacks, as the Russian army advanced, were committing most horrible atrocities; burning towns and villages, tossing men and women into the fire, plundering and murdering everywhere; and the very small Prussian force that was watching them was powerless to check the swarming marauders.
Frederick therefore, evading Daun's attempts to arrest his march, crossed the mountains into Silesia again. At Landshut he gave his army two days' rest; wrote and sent a paper to his brother Prince Henry, who was commander of the army defending Saxony from invasion, telling him that he was on the point of marching against the Russians and might well be killed; and giving him orders as to the course to be pursued, in such an event.
He left Keith, in command of forty thousand men, to hold Daun in check should the latter advance against Silesia; and he again took Fergus with him, finding the young officer's talk a pleasant means of taking his mind off the troubles that beset him.
In nine days the army, which was but fifteen thousand strong, marched from Landshut to Frankfort-on-Oder. Here the king learned that though Kuestrin, which the Russians were besieging, still held out, the town had been barbarously destroyed by the enemy.
In fierce anger the army pressed forward. The Russian army itself, officers and men, were indignant in the extreme at the brutalities committed by the Cossacks, but were powerless to restrain them; for indeed these ruffians did not hesitate to attack and kill any officer who ventured to interfere between them and their victims.
The next morning, early, Frederick reached the camp of his general Dohna; who had been watching, although unable to interfere with the Russians' proceedings. The king had a profound contempt for the Russians, in spite of the warning of Keith, who had served with them, that they were far better soldiers than they appeared to be; and he anticipated a very easy victory over them.
Early on the 22nd of August the army from Frankfort arrived. Dohna's strength was numerically about the same as the king's, and with his thirty thousand men Frederick had no doubt that he would make but short work of the eighty thousand Russians, of whom some twenty-seven thousand were the Cossack rabble, who were not worth being considered, in a pitched battle. Deceiving the Russians as to his intentions by opening a heavy cannonade on one of their redoubts, as if intending to ford the river there, he crossed that evening twelve miles lower down and, after some manoeuvring, faced the Russians, who had at once broken up the siege on hearing of his passage.
Fermor sent away his baggage train to a small village called Kleinkalmin, and planted himself on a moor, where his front was covered by quagmires and the Zaborn stream. Hearing, late at night on the evening of the 24th, that Frederick was likely to be upon them the next morning, the Russian general drew out into the open ground north of Zorndorf, which stands on a bare rise surrounded by woods and quagmires, and formed his army into a great square, two miles long by one broad, with his baggage in the middle--a formation which had been found excellent by the Russians in their Turkish wars, but which was by no means well adapted to meet Frederick's methods of impetuous attack. Being ignorant as to the side upon which Frederick was likely to attack, and having decided to stand on the defensive, he adopted the methods most familiar to him.
Frederick had cut all the bridges across the rivers Warta and Oder, and believed that he should, after defeating the Russians, drive them into the angle formed by the junction of these two streams, and cause them to surrender at discretion. Unfortunately, he had not heard that the great Russian train had been sent to Kleinkalmin. Had he done so he could have seized it, and so have possessed himself of the Russian stores and all their munitions of war, and have forced them to surrender without a blow; for the Cossacks had wasted the country far and wide, and deprived it of all resources. But he and his army were so burning with indignation, and the desire to avenge the Cossack cruelties, that they made no pause, and marched in all haste right round the Russian position, so as to drive them back towards the junction of the two rivers.
[Map: Battle of Zorndorf] Fermor's Cossacks brought him in news of Frederick's movements, which were hidden from him by the forests; and seeing that he was to be attacked on the Zorndorf side, instead of from that on which he had expected it to come, he changed his front, and swung round the line containing his best troops to meet it.
On arriving at Zorndorf, Frederick found that the Cossacks had already set the village on fire. This was no disadvantage to him, for the smoke of the burning houses rolled down towards the Russians, and so prevented them from making observation of the Prussian movements. The king rode up to the edge of the Zaborn hollow and, finding it too deep and boggy to be crossed, determined to attack at the southwest with his left and centre, placing his cavalry in rear, and throwing back his right wing.
The first division marched forward to the attack, by the west end of the flaming village. The next division, which should have been its support, marched by the east end of Zorndorf. Its road was a longer one, and there was consequently a wide gap between the two divisions. Heralded by the fire of two strong batteries--which swept the southwestern corner of the Russian quadrilateral, their crossfire ploughing its ranks with terrible effect--the first division, under Manteufel, fell upon the enemy.
The fire of the Prussian batteries had sorely shaken the Russians, and had produced lively agitation among the horses of the light baggage train in the centre of the square; and, heralding their advance with a tremendous fire of musketry, the Prussian infantry forced its way into the mass. Had the second division been close at hand, as it should have been, the victory would already have been won; but although also engaged it was not near, and Fermor poured out a torrent of horse and foot upon Manteufel's flank and front. Without support, and surrounded, the Prussians could do nothing, and were swept back, losing twenty-four pieces of cannon; while the Russians, with shouts of victory, pressed upon them.
At this critical moment Seidlitz, with five thousand horse, dashed down upon the disordered mass of Russians, casting it into irretrievable confusion. At the same time the infantry rallied and pressed forward again.
In fifteen minutes the whole Russian army was a confused mass. Fermor, with the Russian horse, fled to Kratsdorf and, had not the bridge there been burnt by Frederick, he would have made off, leaving his infantry to their fate. These should now, according to all rules, have surrendered; but they proved unconquerable save by death. Seidlitz's cavalry sabred them until fatigued by slaughter, the Prussian infantry poured their volleys into them, but they stood immovable and passive, dying where they stood.
At one o'clock in the day the battle ceased for a moment. The Prussians had marched at three in the morning and, seeing that although half the Russian army had been destroyed, the other half had gradually arranged itself into a fresh front of battle, Frederick formed his forces again, and brought up his right wing for the attack on the side of the Russian quadrilateral which still stood. Forward they went, their batteries well in advance; but before the infantry came within musket range, the Russian horse and foot rushed forward to the attack, and with such force that they captured one of the batteries, took a whole battalion prisoners, and broke the centre.
Here were the regiments of Dohna, perfectly clean and well accoutred; but, being less accustomed to war than Frederick's veterans, they gave way at once before the Russian onslaught and, in spite of Frederick's efforts to prevent them, fled from the field and could not be rallied until a mile distant from it.
The veterans stood firm, however; until Seidlitz, returning from pursuit, again hurled his horsemen upon the Russian masses, broke them up, and drove their cavalry in headlong flight before him.
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: Another Step.
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The Russian infantry being involved in the turmoil and confusion caused by the charge of Seidlitz, and the defeat of their cavalry, the Prussian infantry again pressed forward, pouring in a heavy fire and charging with the bayonet. Three battalions had been drawn from this very country and, maddened by the tales they had heard of Cossack cruelty, were not to be denied. The Russians, however, keeping their ranks, filling up the gaps as they were formed, and returning as best they could the fire of the Prussians, held together with sullen obstinacy. By this time the ammunition on both sides was exhausted, and now the struggle became hand to hand, bayonet against bayonet, butt end of musket to butt end.
Seldom has so terrible a struggle ever been witnessed. Nightfall was approaching. Foot by foot the inert Russian mass was pushed backwards. One of their generals, Demikof, collected some two thousand foot and a thousand horse, and took possession of a knoll; and Frederick ordered them to be dispersed again. Forcade was ordered to attack them with two battalions, and General Rutter to bring up the Dohna men again and take them in flank; but the latter had not recovered from their state of demoralization, and at the first cannon shot turned and ran, continuing their flight even further than before, and taking refuge in the woods. Frederick instantly dismissed Rutter from the service.
Then, as night had completely fallen, the terrible conflict ceased. Fermor by this time, finding that there was no crossing the rivers, had returned. No regiment or battalion of his army remained in order. There was but a confused crowd, which the officers did their best to form into some sort of order, regardless of regiment or battalion. The Cossacks scoured the fields under the cover of night, plundering the dead and murdering the wounded, flames marking their path. Four hundred of them were caught at their work by the Prussian hussars, and every one killed.
Frederick sent for his tents, and the army pitched its camp, facing the Russians; but during the night the latter, having got into a sort of order, moved away to the westward and bivouacked on Drewitz Heath, facing the battle ground.
Fermor had some twenty-eight thousand men still with him, while Frederick had eighteen thousand. The former's loss had been twenty-one thousand, five hundred and twenty-nine killed, wounded, or missing; of whom eight thousand were killed. That of the Prussians was eleven thousand, three hundred and ninety, of whom three thousand six hundred and eighty were killed. Thus each side lost a third of its number in this terrible struggle.
The next morning the Russians got into better order, and drew up in order of battle. A cannonade was for some time kept up on both sides, but the armies were beyond range of artillery.
Neither party had any real thoughts of fighting. Fermor, beaten on his own ground the day before, could not dream of attacking the Prussians. The latter were worn out by the fatigues of the previous day. Moreover, on each side the musketry ammunition was used up. The hussars, pursuing the Cossacks, had in the night come upon the Russian waggon train at Kleim, and carried off a good deal of portable plunder.
The next morning, under cover of a fog, the Russians retreated, reached their baggage, and then moved slowly away; and, harassed by Dohna, sullenly continued their retreat to the Russian frontier. If Frederick could have pressed them, he would probably have won another victory; but he had news which called him to hasten away west to join Prince Henry, as his presence there was urgently required for the defence of Saxony.
Fergus had been with the king, when the Dohna regiments gave way before the impetuous charge of the Russians; the rest of the staff having been sent away, one after the other, either to bring up Seidlitz or to order a fresh movement among the infantry; and as the king rode down to endeavour to restore order, he followed closely behind him. The confusion was terrible. The Russian horse, mixed up with the infantry, were sabring and trampling them down.
Suddenly three of them dashed at the king. Fergus, setting spurs to his horse, interposed between them and Frederick. One of the Russians was ridden over, horse and man, by the impetus of his rush. The other two attacked him furiously, and for a moment he was very hard pressed. He kept his horse prancing and curvetting, and managed to keep both his assailants on his right; until at last he cut one down and, half a minute later, ran the other through the body.
"Gallantly done, Major Drummond," the king said quietly as, wheeling his horse, Fergus returned back to take his post behind him. "I shall not forget that you have saved my life."
Then, without further comment, Frederick continued his work trying to rally the infantry; ordering, entreating, and even laying the cane he always carried across their shoulders.
A minute later there was a thunder of hoofs, and Seidlitz burst down upon the Russian mass, changing in a moment the fate of the battle. Excited by the late encounter, Fergus's horse took its bit between its teeth, joined Seidlitz's cavalry as they swept past and, in spite of the efforts of its rider, plunged with him into the midst of the fight. For the next few minutes Fergus had but slight knowledge of what was going on, he being engaged in a series of hand-to-hand fights with both cavalry and infantry. Three times he was wounded, and then the pressure ceased, and he was again galloping across the moors in pursuit of the Russian horse.
It was not until Seidlitz's force drew rein that he recovered the control of his horse. Its flank was bleeding from a bayonet gash, and a bullet had gone through its neck. The first wound was of comparatively small consequence, but he feared that the other was serious; but though the horse panted from its exertion and excitement, its breath came regularly; and it was evident that the ball had not hit the spine, for had it done so it would have fallen at once.
He turned and rode back with the cavalry, who dismounted a short distance from the scene of action, in readiness to take their part again, should they be required; while he pursued his way to the spot where the king had stationed himself, surrounded by several of his staff. The king glanced at him, and then said: "You are relieved from duty, Major Drummond. Let one of the surgeons see to you, at once."
Fergus rode but a short distance and then, turning suddenly faint, he slid from his horse to the ground. One of the staff, happening to look round, at once rode back to him.
"You had best let me bandage up your wounds roughly," he said. "It will be difficult to find a surgeon, now that they are all up to their eyes in work, somewhere in the rear."
Fergus had received two severe wounds in the face, and a bayonet thrust through his leg. The officer did his best to stanch the bleeding, and was still occupied in doing so when Karl rode up, jumped from his horse, and ran to his master's side.
"Where have you been, Karl?" Fergus asked, for the soldier had also received a severe wound in the head.
"I followed you, master, as in duty bound; but I was some distance behind you, and in that melee I could not get near you; and being mixed up with one of the squadrons, I did not see you as you came back, and was in a great state about you until, on riding up to the staff, one of the officers pointed you out to me."
"I think that you are in good hands now," the officer said. "I will join the king again."
Fergus thanked him warmly, but in a weak voice.
"The first thing, master, is for you to get a drink," Karl said; and he took, from the holster of Fergus's saddle, a flask that he had placed there that morning. "Take a good drink of this," he said, "then I will see to your wounds. It is plain enough to see that that officer knew nothing about them."
Fergus drank half of the contents of the flask, and then handed it to Karl.
"You finish it up," he said. "You want it as much as I do."
"Not so much, master; but I want it badly enough, I own."
Having drank, he proceeded to rebandage his master's wounds, first laying on them rolls of lint he took from his own saddlebag.
"I never go on a campaign without lint and a bandage or two," he said. "Many a life has been lost that might easily enough have been saved, had they been at hand."
He laid the lint on the wounds, and then bound them firmly and evenly. He had a bandage left, when he had finished this. With the aid of a man who was limping to the rear, he used it for stanching his own wounds.
"Well, master," he said, "you cannot do better than lie here, for the present. I will look after the horses, and fasten them up to that bush. The battle is going on as fiercely as ever, and looks as if it would go on until dark. If so, there will be no collecting the wounded tonight; but as soon as I see where the king bivouacs, I will get you there somehow."
"I shall do very well here--at any rate, for the present, Karl. In the meantime, it would be a good thing if you would take the two horses down to the brook, and give them a good drink. You mayn't get a chance later on. As my horse Turk is wounded in two places, I have no doubt the poor beast is as thirsty as I am."
"The bayonet wound is of no consequence," Karl said, after examining the horse's flanks; "except that it has taken a good bit off its value. I don't think this bullet wound through the neck is serious, either."
In an hour Karl returned, leading the horses.
"I feel all the better for a wash, captain. I wish you could have one, too. I have filled my water bottle, but you will want that before morning."
By means of the valises and cloaks, Fergus was propped up into a half-sitting position; and he remained where he was until, after nightfall, the din of battle ceased. He had eaten a few mouthfuls of bread, and felt stronger; and by the time the tents were pitched, and the bivouac fires lighted, he was able to stand. With Karl's assistance he mounted in side-saddle fashion and, Karl leading the horses, made for the tents of the king's staff, five hundred yards away. Captain Diedrich, the officer who shared the tent with Fergus, helped Karl to lift him down and carry him in.
"Do you want a surgeon to see you?"
"No, they must have thousands of serious cases on hand. I merely fainted from loss of blood. The two wounds in my head cannot be very serious, and Karl has bandaged them up as well as a surgeon could do. The worst wound is in my leg. The bayonet went right through it, and for a moment pinned it to the saddle. However, it is but a flesh wound, behind the bone about six inches below the knee. It bled very freely at first, but Karl stanched it, and it has not burst out since; so it is evident that no great harm is done."
"I will bring you in some wine and water now," Diedrich said. "They are getting supper, and I will send you a bowl of soup, as soon as it is ready."
After Karl had tethered the horses--that of Fergus with the others belonging to the staff, and his own with those of the escort and staff orderlies--he sat down at one of the fires, ate his supper--for each man carried three days' provisions in his haversack--and, chatting with his comrades, heard that several of the orderlies had been killed in the fight; and that four of the officers of the royal staff had also fallen under the enemy's fire, as they carried messages through the storm of case shot and bullets. All agreed that never had they seen so terrible a fight, and that well-nigh a third, if not more, of the army had been killed or wounded.
"We made a mistake about these Russians," one of the troopers said. "They are dirty, and they don't even look like soldiers, but I never saw such obstinate beggars to fight. From the moment the cavalry made their first charge they were beaten, and ought to have given in; but they seemed to know nothing about it, and that second line of theirs charged as if it was but the beginning of a battle. I was never so surprised in my life as when they poured down on us, horse and foot; but all that was nothing to the way they stood, afterwards. If they had been bags of sawdust they could not have been more indifferent to our fire.
"That was a bad business of Dohna's men. I thought, when we joined them, they looked too spick and span to be any good; but that they should run, almost as fast and far as the men of the Federal army at Rossbach, is shameful. Neither in the last war nor in this has a Prussian soldier so disgraced himself.
"I don't envy them. I don't suppose a man in the army will speak to them, and we may be sure that it will be a long time, indeed, before our Fritz gets over it. It will need some hard fighting, and something desperate in the way of bravery, before he forgives them.
"How is your master, Karl?"
"He will do. He has got three wounds, and lost a lot of blood; but in a fortnight he will be in the saddle again. Perhaps less, for he is as hard as steel."
"He saved the king's life, Karl. I was twenty yards away, and was wedged in so that there was no moving, except backwards; for Dohna's men were half mad with fright, and the Russians were cutting and slashing in the middle of us."
"I saw it," Karl said. "I was close to you at the time. I put spurs to my horse and rode over three or four of our own men, and cut down one who grasped my reins; but I got there too late. I had no great fear of the result, though. Why, you know, he killed six Pomeranians who were looting Count Eulenfurst's place, close to Dresden; and he made short work of those three Russians. It was done beautifully, too. They tried to get one on each side of him, but he kept them on his right, and that made a safe thing of it.
"He is a quiet, good-tempered officer. There is as much fun about him as a boy, but when his spirit is up, there are not many swordsmen in the army that could match him. Why, when he first joined, nearly three years ago, he was in the 3rd Royal Dragoons, my own regiment; and I heard the sergeant who was in the fencing room say that there was not an officer in the regiment who was a match for him with the sword.
"Now I have finished my pipe, and must be going to look after him again."
The king's surgeon examined Fergus's wounds the next morning, and said that, although he would not be able to sit a horse until his leg had healed, he would otherwise soon be convalescent.
Soon after he had left him, Sir John Mitchell came in to see him. As the English ambassador had very often, during the last two winters, met Fergus in the king's apartments, at which he himself was a regular visitor, they were by this time well known to each other. Mitchell, indeed, regarded Fergus as a valuable assistant in his work of interesting Frederick, and turning his mind from his many troubles and anxieties.
"The surgeon has just given a good account of you to the king, Drummond," he said; "and his majesty expressed much satisfaction at hearing that your wounds are not serious. " 'That youth is not like most of your compatriots, Mitchell,' he said to me with a smile; 'ever ready to fight, but equally ready to join in a drinking bout, should opportunity offer. He is always on horseback, and as hardy and as healthy as can be. With one of the hard-drinking sort, fever might set in; but there is no risk of it with him. " 'As I told you, he saved my life yesterday. I was nearly compelled to take to my sword, but that would have been of little avail against the three Russians. Save for the sake of Prussia, my life is of no great value to me, for 'tis one full of care and trouble; but for my country's sake I would fain hold on to it, as long as there is hope for her deliverance from her enemies. " 'You can congratulate him on his promotion, Mitchell, for I made him a major on the spot. It was a brilliant feat, as brilliant as that which he performed at Lobositz, or that at Count Eulenfurst's house at Dresden, each of which got him a step. 'Tis not often that an officer gets thrice promoted for distinguished bravery. Each time the feat was the talk of the whole army; and it will not be less so at the present time, methinks, nor will any feel jealous at his rapid rise.'"
"The king is too kind, your excellency."
"I do not think so, Drummond. I have marked you a good deal during the last two years, and you have borne yourself well; and as a Scotchman I am proud of you. You have the knack of your kinsman Keith of entering into the king's humours; of being a bright companion when he is in a good temper, and of holding your tongue when he is put out; of expressing your opinion frankly, and yet never familiarly; and your freshness and hopefulness often, I see, cheer the king, whose Prussians cannot, for their lives, help being stiff and formal, or get to talk with him as if he were a human being like themselves.
"Next to Keith and myself, I think that there is no one with whom the king can distract his mind so completely as with you. To him it is like getting a whiff of the fresh air from our Scottish hills. He told the surgeon to see that you were sent down with the first batch of wounded officers."
The next day, accordingly, while the two armies were watching each other and the cannon were growling, Fergus was taken down to Frankfort.
Zorndorf was fought on the 25th of August; and on the 2nd of September Frederick started with the army for Saxony, where Prince Maurice had been sorely pressed by Daun and the newly-raised army of the Confederates, and had had to take post on some heights a short distance from Dresden.
"A bad job, major," Karl grumbled as he brought the news to Fergus, who was quartered in a private house. "The king has gone to have a slap at Daun; and here are we, left behind. If he would have waited another fortnight, we might have been with him."
"Perhaps we shall get there in time yet, Karl. You may be sure that as soon as Daun hears that the king is coming he will, as usual, begin to fortify himself; and it will need no small amount of marching and counter-marching to get him to come out and give battle. He was slow and cautious before, but after Leuthen he is likely to be doubly so.
"However, I will get a tailor here today to measure me for a new uniform. What with blood, and your cutting my breeches to get at my leg, I must certainly get a new outfit before I rejoin.
"I hope I shall be with the marshal again. It is a good deal more lively with him than it is with the king's staff; who, although no doubt excellent soldiers, are certainly not lively companions. I do hope there will be no great battle until we get there. I should think I might start in a week."
The surgeon, however, would not hear of this; and it was the end of the third week in September before Fergus rode from Frankfort. The news from the south was so far satisfactory that he had fidgeted less than he would otherwise have done. Daun had, in fact, retired hastily from Meissen, and had taken post in an almost impregnable position at Stolpen. Neisse was being besieged and must be relieved, but Daun now blocked Frederick's way at Stolpen, both to that town and to Bautzen--cut him off, indeed, from Silesia, and for the moment the royal army and that of Prince Maurice were lying at Dresden. Fergus, therefore, was content to follow the doctor's orders, and to spend four days on the journey down to Dresden.
Keith was there, and received him joyfully. Lindsay greeted him vociferously.
"So you have gone up another step above me," he laughed. "Never was a fellow with such luck as you have. Saved the king's life, I hear. Tumbled over scores of Russians. Won the victory with your own sword."
"Not quite as much as that, Lindsay," Fergus laughed. "The scores of Cossacks come down to three, of whom one my horse tumbled over, and I managed the other two. Still, although the battle was only half finished when I was put out of all further part in it, I may be said in one way to have won it; for had the king fallen, there is no saying how matters might have gone. It is true that we could not have lost it, for the Russians were past taking the offensive, but it might have been a drawn battle."
"It was a terrible business," Lindsay said seriously. "As bad in its way as Prague, that is to say in proportion to the numbers engaged. Everyone says they would rather fight three Austrians than one Russian. The marshal has rather scored off the king; for he warned him that, though slow, the Russians were formidable foes, but the king scoffed at the idea. He has found out now that he greatly undervalued them, and has owned as much to Keith.
"I am sorry to say the marshal is not well. He suffers a good deal, and I fancy that, after this campaign is over, he will ask to be relieved from active duty in the field, and will take the command of the army covering Dresden. He has led a hard life, you see, and has done as much as three ordinary men.
"Still, we shall see how he is next spring. It would almost break his heart to have to give up before this war is over."
"It is difficult to say when that will be, Lindsay. Here we are, getting towards the third year, and the war is not one whit nearer to the end than it was when we left Berlin. It is true that we have no longer to count France as formidable, but Russia has turned out far more so than we expected; and having once taken the matter up, the empress, if she is half as obstinate as her soldiers, is likely to go on at it for a long time. And we are using up our army very fast, and cannot replace our losses as Austria and Russia can do."
"I hope they are not going to make another twenty years' war of it," Lindsay said. "If you go on in the way that you are doing, Drummond, you will be a field marshal in a third of that time; but you must remember about the proverb of the pitcher and the well."
"Yes, Lindsay, but you must remember that I am having a share of hard knocks. I have been wounded twice now, to say nothing of being stunned and taken prisoner; so you see I am having my share of bad luck, as well as good. Now at present you have never had as much as a scratch, and when your bad luck comes, it may come all in a lump."
"There is something in that, Fergus, though I own that I had not thought of it. Well, perhaps it is better to take it in small doses than have it come all at once.
"So you have brought your man back safe, I see, though he has had an ugly slash across the cheek.
"By the way, I hope that those two sword cuts are not going to leave bad scars, Drummond. It would be hard to have your beauty spoilt for life, and you only nineteen; though, fortunately, everyone thinks you two or three years older. However, they will be honourable scars, and women don't mind any disfigurement in a man, if it is got in battle. It is a pity, though, that you did not get them when defending the king's life, instead of in the cavalry charge afterwards.
"You brought your horse safe out of the battle, I hope?"
"He has, like myself, honourable scars, Lindsay. He got an ugly gash on the flank with a bayonet; and I am afraid, when it heals, white hair will grow on it. He had also a bullet through the neck. Fortunately it missed both spine and windpipe, and is quite healed up now."
"It is really a pity to take such a horse as that under fire," Lindsay said regretfully.
"Well, when one risks one's own life, one ought not to mind risking that of a horse, however valuable."
"No, I suppose not. Still, it is a pity to ride so valuable an animal. You are paid so much for risking your own life, you see, Drummond; but it is no part of the bargain that you should risk that of a horse worth any amount of money."
Fergus, on his arrival, called at once on Count Eulenfurst; who, with his wife and daughter, were delighted to see him, for he had now been absent from Dresden since Frederick had marched against Soubise, thirteen months before.
"We heard from Captain Lindsay," the count said, "when the army arrived here, some three weeks since, that you were wounded, but not gravely; also, that for valour shown in defending the king, when he was attacked by three Russians, you had been promoted to the rank of major, upon which we congratulate you heartily. And now that you have come, I suppose your king will soon be dashing away with you again.
"What a man he is, and what soldiers! I can assure you that sometimes, when I read the bulletins, I am inclined to regret that I was not born two days' journey farther north. And yet, in spite of his fierce blows at all these enemies, there is no sign of peace being any nearer than when you dropped down to our rescue, some twenty-seven months ago. 'Tis a terrible war."
"It is, indeed, count. Certainly, when I crossed the seas to take service here, I little thought how terrible was the struggle that was approaching. If we had known it, I am sure that my mother would never have let me leave home."
"She must be terribly uneasy about you," the countess said. "Do you hear from her often?"
"She writes once a month, and so do I. I get her letters in batches. I know that she must be very anxious, but she says nothing about it in her letters. She declares that she is proud that I am fighting for a Protestant prince, so hemmed in by his enemies; and that the thoughts and hopes of all England are with him, and the bells ring as loudly at our victories, through England and Scotland, as they do at Berlin."
"If we of Saxony had understood the matter sooner," the count said, "we should be surely fighting now on your side; and indeed, had not Frederick compelled his Saxon prisoners to serve with him, had he sent them all to their homes, there would have been no animosity and, as Protestants, the people would soon have come to see that your cause was their own. Most of them do see it, now; for whenever the enemy have entered Saxony, they have plundered and ill treated the people, especially the Protestants.
"Are your horses still alive?"
"Yes, count, and well, save that one was wounded at Zorndorf; but for that he cannot blame me, for it was his own doing. When Seidlitz charged into the midst of the Russians, he passed close to us; and Turk, maddened by excitement, seized the bit in his teeth and joined him in the melee. I got three wounds and he had two, but happily he has been cured as rapidly as I have, though with no advantage to the appearance of either of us."
"Will the scars on your face always show as they do now?" Thirza asked.
"I am sure I hope not," he said. "At present they are barely healed; but in time, no doubt, the redness will fade out, and they will not show greatly, though I daresay the scars will be always visible."
"I should be proud of them, Major Drummond," said Thirza, "considering that you got them in so great a battle, and one in which you rendered such service to the king."
"You see, I shall not be always able to explain when and how I got them," Fergus laughed. "People who do not know me will say: "'There goes a young student, who has got his face slashed at the university.'"
"They could not say that," she said indignantly. "Even if you were not in uniform, anyone can see that you are a soldier."
"Whether or not, Countess Thirza, it is a matter that will certainly trouble me very little. However, I begin to think that I shall not always be a soldier. Certainly, I should not leave the army as long as this war goes on; but I have seen such terrible fighting, such tremendous carnage, that I think that at the end of it, if I come out at the end, I shall be glad to take to a peaceful life. My cousin, Marshal Keith, has been fighting all his life. He is a great soldier, and has the honour of being regarded by the king as his friend; but he has no home, no peace and quiet, no children growing up to take his place. I should not like to look forward to such a life, and would rather go back and pass my days in the Scottish glens where I was brought up."
"I think that you are right," the count said seriously. "In ordinary times a soldier's life would be a pleasant one, and he could reckon upon the occasional excitement of war; but such a war as this is beyond all calculation. In these three campaigns, and the present one is not ended, nigh half of the army which marched through here has been killed or wounded. It is terrible to think of. One talks of the chances of war, but this is making death almost a certainty; for if the war continues another two or three years, how few will be left of those who began it!
"Even now a great battle will probably be fought, in a few days. Two great armies are within as many marches of Dresden. The smallest of them outnumbers Frederick. The other is fully twice his strength, and so intrenched, as I hear, that the position is well-nigh impregnable."
"I expect the king will find means to force him out of it, without fighting," Fergus said with a smile. "Daun is altogether over cautious, and Leuthen is not likely to have rendered him more confident."
Fergus spent the greater part of his time at the count's, for Marshal Keith insisted upon his abstaining from all duty, until the march began.
"We are off tomorrow morning," he said, when he went up on the evening of the 30th of September. "Where, I know not. Except the king, Marshal Keith, and Prince Maurice, I do not suppose that anyone knows; but wherever it is, we start at daybreak."
"May you return, ere long, safe and sound!" the count said. "Is there nothing that we can do for you? You know we regard you as one of the family, and there is nothing that would give us greater pleasure than to be able, in some way, to make you comfortable."
"I thank you heartily, count, but I need nothing; and if I did I could purchase it, for it is but seldom that one has to put one's hand in one's pocket; and as a captain I have saved the greater part of my pay for the last two years, and shall pile up my hoard still faster, now that I am a major.
"I have never had an opportunity, before, of thanking you for that purse which you handed to Karl, to be laid out for my benefit in case of need. He holds it still, and I have never had occasion to draw upon it, and hope that I never may have to do so."
The next morning the army, furnished with nine days' provisions, and leaving a force to face the army of the Confederates, strode along the road at its usual pace. They took the road for Bautzen, drove off Loudon (who commanded Daun's northern outposts) without difficulty, and so passed his flank. The advance guard pushed on to Bautzen, drove away the small force there and, leaving there the magazines of the army, occupied Hochkirch, a few miles away. The king with the main body arrived at Bautzen on the following day, and halted there, to see what Daun was going to do.
The latter was, in fact, obliged to abandon his stronghold; for the Prussians, at Hochkirch, menaced the road by which he drew his provisions from his magazines at Zittau. Marching at night, he reached and occupied a line of hills between Hochkirch and Zittau, and within a couple of miles of the former place.
Frederick had been forced to wait, at Bautzen, till another convoy of provisions arrived. When he joined the division at Hochkirch, and saw Daun's army on the opposite hills, busy as usual in intrenching itself, he ordered the army to encamp when they were within a mile of Daun's position.
Marwitz, the staff officer to whom he gave the order, argued and remonstrated, and at length refused to be concerned in the marking out of such an encampment. He was at once put under arrest, and another officer did the work. Frederick, in fact, entertained a sovereign contempt for Daun, with his slow marches, his perpetual intrenchings, and his obstinate caution; and had no belief, whatever, that the Austrian marshal would attempt to attack him. He was in a very bad humour, too, having discovered that Retzow had failed to take possession of the Stromberg, a detached hill which would have rendered the position a safe one. He put him under arrest, and ordered the Stromberg to be occupied.
The next morning the force proceeding to do so found, however, that the post was already occupied by Austrians; who resisted stoutly and, being largely reinforced, maintained their position on the hill, on which several batteries were placed. It was now Tuesday, and Frederick determined to march away on the Saturday.
His obstinacy had placed the army in an altogether untenable and dangerous position. All his officers were extremely uneasy, and Keith declared to the king that the Austrians deserved to be hanged if they did not attack; to which Frederick replied: "We must hope that they are more afraid of us than even of the gallows."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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13
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: Hochkirch.
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The village of Hochkirch stood on a hilltop, with an extensive view for miles round on all sides; save on the south, where hills rose one above another. Among these hills was one called the Devil's Hill, where the primitive country people believed that the devil and his witches held high festival, once a year.
Frederick's right wing, which was commanded by Keith, lay in Hochkirch. Beyond the village he had four battalions, and a battery of twenty guns on the next height to Hochkirch. From this point to the Devil's Hill extended a thick wood, in which a strong body of Croats were lurking. Frederick, with the centre, extended four miles to the left of Hochkirch. Retzow, who had been restored to his command, had ten or twelve thousand men lying in or behind Weissenberg, four miles away.
Frederick's force, with that of Keith, amounted to twenty-eight thousand men, and Retzow's command was too far away to be considered as available. Daun's force, lying within a mile of Hochkirch, amounted to ninety thousand men. Well might Keith say that the Austrians deserved to be hanged, if they did not attack. Frederick himself was somewhat uneasy, and would have moved away on the Friday night, had he not been waiting for the arrival of a convoy of provisions from Bautzen. Still, he relied upon Daun's inactivity.
This time, however, his reliance was falsified. All Daun's generals were of opinion that it would be disgraceful, were they to stand on the defensive against an army practically less than a third of their force; and their expostulations at length roused Daun into activity. Once decided, his dispositions were, as usual, excellent.
[Map: Battle of Hochkirch] His plan was an able one. He himself, with thirty thousand men, was to start as soon as it was dark on Friday evening, sweep round to the south, follow the base of the Devil's Mountain, and then through the hollows and thick wood till he was close to the force on the right of Hochkirch; and was to fall suddenly on them, at five o'clock on Saturday morning. The orders were that, as soon as Hochkirch was taken, the rest of the army, sixty thousand strong, were to march against Frederick, both in front and on his left, and so completely smash and crumple him up.
Frederick had no premonition of the storm that was gathering. On Thursday and Friday the Austrians were engaged, as usual, in felling trees, forming abattis, throwing up earthworks, and in all ways strengthening their position. Everything seemed to show that Daun was still bent upon standing upon the defensive only.
As the lurking Croats and Pandoors had, every night, crept up through the brushwood and hollows, and skirmished with the Prussian outposts away on the right, scattered firing was not heeded much in Hochkirch. Fergus had just got up, in the little room he shared with Lindsay in the marshal's quarters, a mile north of Hochkirch; and was putting on his boots when, a few minutes past five, the sound of firing was heard.
"There are the Croats, as usual," he said.
"What a restless fellow you are, Drummond! You have been up, at this unearthly hour, each morning since we got here. It won't be light for another two hours yet. I doubt whether it will be light then. It looks to me as if it were a thick fog."
"You are right about my early hours, and I admit I have been restless. It is not a pleasant idea that, but a mile away, there is an army big enough to eat us up; and nothing whatever to prevent their pouncing upon us, at any moment, except two or three batteries. The marshal was saying, last night, he should regard it as the most fortunate escape he ever had, if we drew off safely tonight without being attacked.
"That firing is heavier than usual. There go a couple of guns!"
"Those two advanced pieces are sending a round or two of case shot into the bushes, I suppose," Lindsay said drowsily.
Fergus completed his dressing, and went downstairs and out into the night. Here he could hear much better than in the room above; which had but one loophole for air and light, and that was almost stopped up, with a wisp of straw. He could now plainly hear volley firing, and a continued crackle of musketry. He ran upstairs again.
"You had better get your things on at once, Lindsay. It is a more serious affair than usual. I shall take it upon myself to wake the marshal."
He went to Keith's door, knocked, and opened it.
"Who is there? What is it?" the marshal asked.
"It is I, Drummond, sir. There is heavy firing going on to the right, much heavier than it has been any other night."
"What o'clock is it?"
"About ten minutes past five, sir. There is a thick mist, and it is pitch dark. Shall I go over and inquire what is going on?"
"Yes, do. I expect that those rascally Croats have been reinforced, and are trying to find out whether we are still in our positions."
"I will be back as soon as I can, sir."
Fergus ran round to the low range of sheds in which their horses were stabled.
"Karl, are you there?" he shouted.
"Yes, major," a voice said, close at hand. "I am listening to all that firing."
"Saddle up at once. You may as well ride with me. I am going to see what it is all about."
A lantern was burning in the shed, and by its light Fergus and the orderly rapidly saddled the horses.
"You had better light two more lanterns, Karl. Leave the one on the wall burning. We will take the others. We shall want them, for one cannot see a horse's length away; and if we had not the sound of firing to guide us, we should soon lose our way altogether."
The light enabled them to go at a fairly fast trot, but they trusted rather to their horses' than to their own eyes. The roar and rattle of the firing increased in volume, every minute.
"That is more than an affair with the Croats, Karl."
"A good deal more, major. It looks as if the Austrians were beating up our quarters in earnest."
"It does indeed."
When they reached Hochkirch they found the troops there astir. The cavalry trumpets were sounding to horse, and the clamour round the village told that the troops encamped there were getting under arms.
"Do you know what is going on to the right, sir?" Fergus asked a field officer, who was in the act of mounting. "Marshal Keith has sent me to inquire."
"Not in the least; but as far as I can tell by the sound, they must be attacking us in force, and they seem to be working round in rear of our battery there. The sound is certainly coming this way."
"Then I will go on to the battery," Fergus said.
He had ridden but a little way farther, when he was convinced that the officer was right. The crash of musketry volleys rose continuously, but although the boom of guns was mingled with it, there was nothing like the continuous fire that might have been expected from a twenty-gun battery.
Suddenly from his right a crackle of firing broke out, and then heavy volleys. The bullets sung overhead.
"They are attacking us in the rear, sir, sure enough," Karl said.
"I am afraid they have captured our big battery, Karl," Fergus said, as he turned his horse.
It was but a few hundred yards back to the village but, just as he reached it, a roar of fire broke out from its rear. They could make their way but slowly along the streets, so crowded were they now with infantry who, unable to see until a yard or two away, could not make room for them to pass, as they would otherwise have done for a staff officer. With feverish impatience Fergus pushed on, until the road was clear; but even now he had to go comparatively slowly, for unless they kept to the track across the open ground that led to the farmhouse, they must miss it altogether.
Lights were moving about there as he rode up. Keith himself was at the door, and the orderlies were bringing up the horses.
"What is it, Major Drummond?"
"It is an attack in force, sir, on the right flank and rear. The enemy have crept up between Hochkirch and our battery, and as I came through the village they were attacking it in rear. I cannot say for certain, but I believe that the battery is taken, though there is a heavy infantry fire still going on there."
"Ride to Ziethen, Captain Lindsay. Give him the news, and tell him to fall upon the Austrians.
"Captain Cosser and Captain Gaudy, ride off to the infantry and bring them up at the double.
"I will take on the Kannaker battalion myself," and he rode down at once to the camp of this battalion, which was but a hundred yards away; despatching others of his staff to hasten up the regiments near.
The Kannaker battalion was already under arms, and marched off with him as soon as he arrived.
"I am going to the left of the village, Fergus, and shall make for the battery, which we must retake. Do you go first into Hochkirch, and see how matters go there. If badly, give my order to the colonel of the first battalion that comes along, and tell him to throw himself into the village and assist to hold it to the last. After that, you must be guided by circumstances. It is doubtful if you will ever find me again, in this black mist."
Fergus handed his lantern to Keith's orderly, who took his place at the side of the marshal as the regiment went off at the double. Fergus rode up to the village. It was scarce twenty minutes since he had left it, but it was evident that a furious fight was raging there, and that the Austrians had already penetrated some distance into its streets. Without hesitation he turned and rode back again and, in a few minutes, met a dark body of men coming along at a rapid run.
"Where is the colonel?" he asked, reining in his horse suddenly, for he had nearly ridden into the midst of them.
"Just ahead of us, to the right, sir."
In a minute Fergus was beside him. By the light that Karl carried, he recognized him.
"Major Lange," he said, "I have the marshal's orders that you should march into Hochkirch, and hold it to the last. The Austrians are already in partial possession of it."
"Which way is it, Major Drummond? For in this mist I have almost lost my direction, and there seems to be firing going on everywhere ahead."
"I will direct you," Fergus said. "I have just come from there;" and he trotted back to the village.
As they approached Hochkirch it was evident that, although the defenders were still clinging to its outskirts, the greater portion was lost; but with a cheer the battalion rushed forward, and was in a moment fiercely engaged. Major Lange's horse fell dead under him, struck by an Austrian bullet. Fergus rode into the first house he came to, dismounted, and left his horse there.
"You may as well leave yours here too, Karl. We can do no good with them, and should only be in the way. When it begins to get light, we will try and find the marshal.
"You may as well get hold of the first musket and ammunition pouch that you can pick up. There will be enough for every man to do to hold this place until more reinforcements come up."
A desperate struggle went on in the streets. The Prussians who had been driven back joined the battalion just arrived. Bayonets and the butt-end of the musket were used, rather than shot; for in the mist friend could not be distinguished from foe five yards away, and it was from their shouts rather than by their uniforms that men knew whether they had one or other in front of them. Karl was not long in finding arms and, taking his place in the ranks, was soon at work with the others.
The village was almost circular in shape, clustered as it were on the top of the hill. The struggle was not confined to one street, but raged in half a dozen, more or less parallel with each other. Gradually the Prussians pressed forward, and had more than half cleared the village when their advance was checked by the arrival of fresh battalions of the Austrians. Then Lange threw his men into the church and churchyard, and there stubbornly maintained himself.
Soon flames burst out from various directions, giving a welcome light to the defenders, and enabling them to keep up so heavy a fire upon the now swarming enemy that they repulsed each attack made upon them. Eight battalions of Austrians in vain tried to capture the position, attacking it on every side; but the stubborn Prussians held firmly to it.
Meanwhile beyond, as far as the battery, the fight raged. The Plothow battalion, which had been stationed in advance of it, had been attacked and enveloped on all sides by the Austrians; but had defended themselves splendidly and, though forced back by sheer weight of numbers, had maintained their order and done heavy execution by their fire. The battery had been lost, but those who had been driven out rallied and, with the Plothow men, made so furious a rush forward that they hurled the Austrians out again. It was but for a few minutes, for such masses of the enemy poured up through the mist that there was no withstanding them, and many of the Prussians were taken prisoners. Their captivity was of short duration, for through the mist Ziethen's horse burst out suddenly into the raging tumult, scattered the Austrians, released the prisoners, and were then off to fall upon fresh enemies, as soon as they discovered their position.
Everywhere isolated combats took place. Battalion after battalion, and squadron after squadron, as it arrived, flung itself upon the first enemy it came upon in the darkness. Keith, on reaching the battery, again retook it; but again the Austrian masses obtained possession.
In and around Hochkirch, similar desperate struggles were going on. None fled but, falling back until meeting another battalion hastening up, reformed and charged again. Ziethen's horse, together with the rest of the cavalry and gendarmes, mingled with staff officers and others who had lost their way, continued to make furious charges against the Austrians pressing round the rear of the position, and holding them in check.
Until its cartridges were all spent, Lange's battalion held the churchyard, though its numbers were terribly lessened by the Austrian fire. Then the major called upon his men to form in a mass, and cut their way through the enemy with the bayonet. This they most gallantly did, losing many; but the remnant emerged from the village, their gallant leader, wounded to death, among them.
Fergus and Karl separated themselves from them, ran to the house where they had left their horses, mounted, and galloped off. By this time the centre was coming up, led by the king himself. As they neared Hochkirch a cannonball took off the head of Frank of Brunswick, the king's youngest brother-in-law. Prince Maurice of Dessau, riding in the dark till within twenty yards of the Austrians, was badly hit; and the storm of case and musket bullets that swept the approaches to Hochkirch was so terrible that Frederick's battalion had to fall back.
"The first thing is to find the marshal," Fergus said, as he rode out of Hochkirch. "He must be somewhere to the right."
[Illustration: Before he could extricate himself, Fergus was surrounded by Austrians] He galloped on until a flash of fire burst out, a few yards in front. His horse fell dead under him and, before he could extricate himself from it, he was surrounded by Austrians. An officer shouted to him to surrender and, seeing the hopelessness of resistance, he at once did so.
He looked round and, to his satisfaction, saw nothing of Karl. He was placed in the midst of the Austrian regiment, under the charge of a sergeant, and told that he would be shot if he tried to escape.
Frederick, with more battalions that had come up, pushed on; thrusting the Austrians back until he had left Hochkirch on his left. But by this time it was past eight o'clock, the fog was dispersing, and he saw a great body of Austrians on the heights to his right, from Waditz to Meschduitz, as well as on the whole line of heights on the left. His only line of retreat, therefore, was along at the foot of the Dressau heights.
These he ordered to be seized, at once. This was done before the Austrians could reach the spot, they being hindered by furious charges by Ziethen, from the open ground between Kumschutz and Canitz; and Frederick rearranged his front of battle, and waited for Retzow to come up with the left wing.
The Austrians tried several attacks, but with little success. They too had been hindered and confused by the mist, and the force that had been engaged in and round Hochkirch had suffered terribly; and they pushed forward but feebly, now that the Prussian guns on the heights were able to open fire upon them.
Retzow was long in coming, for he too had been attacked by twenty thousand men, who had been told off by Daun for the purpose. The attack, however, was badly managed and feeble; but it delayed Retzow from making a start, when Frederick's urgent messages reached him. During this anxious delay the Austrians captured Frederick's main battery of thirty guns, north of Rodewitz; and were beginning to press forward, when Retzow came onto the ground and took up a position at Belgern, covering Frederick's left flank. Had he been an hour sooner, he might have saved the heavy battery which lay beyond the range of the guns on the Dressau heights, and which Frederick could not have supported without bringing on a general battle.
Then, in a steady and leisurely manner, the king drew off his forces and took up a new position from Krewitz to Puswietz, carrying off the whole of his baggage; Retzow and the troops on the Dressau heights covering the movement, until all had passed; Daun and his great army standing on their circle of hills, watching, but not interfering with the movement.
Frederick's rashness had cost him dear. He had lost eight thousand men; five thousand three hundred and eighty-one of them, and a hundred and nineteen officers, killed or prisoners; the rest wounded. He had also lost a hundred and one guns, and most of his tents.
Of the Austrians, three hundred and twenty-five officers and five thousand six hundred and fourteen rank and file were killed or wounded, and a thousand prisoners lost. Twenty thousand of their men deserted, during their passage through the dark and intricate woods.
Fergus remained with the regiment that had captured him until the battle ceased; after which he was taken, under a guard, to the spot where the Prussian prisoners were gathered. Of these there were fifty-eight officers, the greater part of whom were more or less severely wounded. Two of the officers belonged to the Kannaker battalion, and from them Fergus asked for news of Marshal Keith.
"We fear he is killed," one said. "He led us into the battery, and he was with us after we were driven out again; but after that neither of us saw him. Everything was in confusion. We could not see twenty yards, any way. We know that the battalion had suffered terribly. Just before we were captured, being with a score of men cut off from the rest by a rush of Austrians, a rumour spread that the marshal had been killed; but more than this we cannot tell."
Two hours later an Austrian officer rode up, with orders that the prisoners were to be marched some distance farther to the rear. Fergus went up to him and said: "Can you tell me, sir, if Marshal Keith is among the killed? I am one of his aides-de-camp and, moreover, a cousin of his."
"Yes," the officer said, "he has fallen. His body was recognized by General Lacy, who commands here. I am on his staff. The general was greatly affected, for he and the marshal were at one time comrades in arms. The marshal was shot through the heart, and had previously received two other wounds. He was a most gallant soldier, and one highly esteemed by us. He will be buried with all military honours at Hochkirch, where he has been carried."
Fergus was deeply moved. Keith had been so uniformly kind that he had come to feel for him almost as a father. He could not speak for a minute, and then said: "Would you ask General Lacy, sir, to allow me to attend his funeral, both as one of the marshal's staff and as a relation, who loved him very dearly? My name is Major Drummond."
"I will certainly ask him, sir, and have no doubt that he will grant the request."
He thereupon gave orders that a young officer should remain with Fergus, until an answer was received. He then rode off, and in a few minutes the rest of the prisoners were marched away. In half an hour the officer returned.
"General Lacy will be glad if you will accompany me to his quarters. He gladly accedes to your request."
Lacy occupied one of the houses at Hochkirch which had been spared by the flames. The aide-de-camp conducted Fergus to an empty room.
"The general is away at present," he said, "but will see you, as soon as he returns."
When alone, Fergus burst into tears. It was indeed a heavy loss to him. Even before he came out, he had come to regard Keith with deep respect and admiration. He had heard so much of him, from his mother, that it seemed to him that their relationship was far closer than it really was, and that Keith stood in the position of an uncle rather than of his mother's cousin. Since he had been in Germany he had been constantly with him, save when he was away with the king; and the genial kindness, the absence of all formality, and the affectionate interest he had shown in him had been almost of a fatherly nature. It was but a poor consolation to know that it was the death Keith would, of all others, have chosen; and that, had he survived the campaign, he would probably have been obliged to retire from active service; or to take some quiet command, where his inactivity would speedily have chafed him beyond bearing, after so active and stirring a life.
Two hours later the officer entered the room, and said that General Lacy had returned, and would see him. The general was alone when he was shown into his room, and his face evinced a momentary surprise when his eyes fell on Fergus. Promotion was not very rapid in the Prussian army, and he had expected to see a man of between thirty and forty. The sight of this young officer, with the rank and insignia of major, and wearing on his breast the Prussian order, surprised him.
"I am sorry indeed for your loss, Major Drummond," he said in English. "Sorry for my own, too; though it may well be that, in any case, Keith and I should never have met again. But we were comrades once and, like everyone else, I loved him. What relation was he to you?"
"He was my mother's first cousin, general; but they were always dear friends, and have for years written regularly to each other; and it was settled that I should come out to him, as soon as I was old enough. 'Tis upwards of two years since I did so, and he has been more like a father than a cousin to me, during that time."
"You have gone up the tree fast," General Lacy said.
"Very fast, sir; but I owe it to good fortune, and not to his influence. I was, in each case, promoted by the king himself."
"A good judge of men, and not accustomed to give promotion easily. Will you tell me how it happened?"
"There is not much to tell, sir. On the first occasion, I freed Count Eulenfurst of some rascals who were maltreating him and his family."
"I remember the circumstance," Lacy said warmly. "I heard it from a Saxon officer, who joined us at the end of the first campaign, after the Saxon army was disbanded and the officers were allowed to go free. He was at Dresden for a time, and heard the story. It was a gallant business. I think you killed six of them. And what was the next occasion?"
"The next followed very quickly, general; and was given for carrying an order to the Prussian horse, which enabled them to get back to our lines before the Austrian cavalry fell upon them."
"I was there," Lacy said. "So you were the officer who charged through a squadron of our cavalry, accompanied by a single orderly! You certainly won your promotion fairly there. And where did you get your last step?"
"At Zorndorf where, in the melee, when the Russians broke our ranks, I was fortunate enough to intercept three Russian dragoons who were making for the king, who was hemmed in among the infantry he was trying to rally."
"A good reason, again, for promotion. Well, if you go on, you are likely to rise as high as your cousin. But it is a poor life. As I looked down upon Keith's face today, I thought how empty is any honour that adventurers like ourselves can gain. I myself have risen too; but what does it bring? Responsibility, toil, the consciousness that a solitary mistake may bring you into disgrace; and that, in any case, the end may be like this: death on a battlefield, fighting in a quarrel in which you have no concern, and of which you may disapprove; a grave soon forgotten; a name scarce known to one's countrymen. It is not worth it."
The general spoke in a tone of deep feeling.
"I have made up my mind not to continue in the service, after the war is over," Fergus said, after a short pause; "although the king has personally been very kind to me and, when the marshal remained in Bohemia, he took me on his own staff."
"That is right, and as you are young, a few years' further service will do you no harm. It will, indeed, do you good; that is, if you pass through it unharmed. A man who has fought under Frederick, and gained no small honour in a service where brave men are common, will be respected when he returns to his home, no matter how small his patrimony may be; and you will be, in all respects, an abler man for these few years of fierce struggle and adventure.
"And now, Major Drummond, I must say goodbye for the present, as I have to ride over to the marshal, and may not return until late this evening. A meal will be served to you shortly, in your room; and if your night has been as short as mine has, you will be ready to turn in early. The funeral will take place tomorrow morning."
The next morning, Lacy and Fergus Drummond walked side by side, as chief mourners, after the gun carriage on which the remains of Marshal Keith were carried to Hochkirch church. There was a large military cortege, martial music, and infantry with reversed arms. The many wounded had been carried from the church, and some attempt made to clear away the signs of the strife that had, twenty-four hours before, raged around it. There Keith was buried. Twelve cannon three times pealed out a parting salute. Three times the muskets of the regiment of Colleredo fired their volleys.
Four months later, by the king's orders, the body was conveyed to Berlin, and buried in the garrison church with full military pomp and honour. Twenty years afterwards, when Frederick erected four statues to the most deserving of his generals, Keith had his place with Schwerin, Winterfeld, and Seidlitz.
"And now," Lacy said, when they returned from the funeral to his quarters, "I must send you on after the others. I am sorry to do so, but I have no choice. Still, I will write to friends at Vienna, and get them to have you included in the first batch of exchanges."
An officer was told off to accompany Fergus, and a horse was found for him. On the second evening after starting he rejoined the convoy of prisoners; where a message, delivered from General Lacy to the officer in charge, caused many small indulgences to be granted to him on the way south.
Day after day the convoy pursued its way, by short marches, for several of the officers were too severely wounded to travel far. Several of these were left at Prague. Here the greater portion of the others were taken on by the southern road through Budweis, the rest turning southeast towards Moravia.
On the evening before they separated, the commander of the convoy said to Fergus: "Have you any wish to choose as to which of the fortresses you would be sent to? I can put your name down with either party. Some will go to Iglau in Moravia, the rest to the forts round Linz."
"I think I would rather go to Linz, colonel, as you are good enough to give me the choice."
Accordingly, the next morning Fergus, with twenty officers, continued his way south. The majority proceeded to Iglau, to be distributed among the various fortresses of Moravia.
Fergus was much pleased that he had not been sent with that party, for had he by chance been taken to his former place of imprisonment, he would certainly have been recognized, and the strictest precautions taken against his repeating the attempt. On their arrival at Linz, the prisoners were formally handed over to the charge of the governor, and distributed among the various outlying forts round the city. Ten others were told off to the same prison as Fergus.
The fort was the one nearest to the river, on the west side of the city; and stood but a hundred yards from the bank, its guns being intended to prevent any passage of the Danube, as well as to guard the city against a land attack from that side. It was a strong place but, as it was situated in a flat country, it presented no natural obstacle to an escape. It was surrounded by a broad moat, fed by a cut from the river. On the other side of the moat were two small redoubts, facing west. The fort contained ample barracks for the garrison of three hundred men who occupied it, with bomb proofs in which they could take refuge, in the event of a siege. Beyond the moat, a glacis sloped down to another ditch.
The cannon were placed in casemates. Some of them had been withdrawn, the casemates fitted with massive shutters, and converted into prisons for the use of officers. Two captains were lodged in the same casemate with Fergus. No light came from without, but there was a low semicircular window over the door. This was very strongly barred, but admitted sufficient light, in the daytime.
"Not such bad quarters," Fergus said, as he looked round. "When the cold weather comes, we shall only have to stuff straw through those bars, leaving one square open for light, and manage to hang a thick curtain across it at night. I suppose they will give us a brazier of charcoal, when it gets a little colder; though indeed, it is cold enough now."
"At any rate, we shall have a rest, major; and that will be a treat, after our long marches during the last campaign. I should think that we can sleep the best part of the winter away."
"They fasten the shutters pretty securely," Fergus went on. "They are three inches of solid oak, and you see these bars are all riveted at each end. I suppose they think that they would have plenty of time to cut the rivet heads off, before any army could approach."
In a short time the officer in command of the force came round. He was very civil and courteous, and said that he had already ordered a stove to be sent in, and that they should have some straw laid over the floor.
"You will be permitted to take exercise, when you like, upon the rampart overhead," he said. "Any reasonable request you make shall be attended to. I regret that the misfortune of war should have placed you in my keeping; for we Austrians can appreciate bravery, and we cannot but admit that no braver men are to be found than those in the King of Prussia's army.
"As to your rations, they must be plain. A certain sum is allowed by government for the cost of each prisoner. I make it go as far as I can, but I often wish that the sum were larger. I may say that you are permitted to order any additions to your food from without, upon payment; but I need hardly add that the orders must pass through the hands of the officer in charge of you, and that everything brought in is rigidly inspected."
"Have there been any exchanges of prisoners, of late?" one of Fergus's companions asked.
"No. It is a compliment to you, gentlemen, for our government apparently places a higher value on you than on us, and is very chary of swelling Frederick's armies by the release of prisoners. Somehow your king seems to make double use of his soldiers. He fights a battle here, then rushes away to meet another enemy, two or three hundred miles off; while when we get an advantage, we seem so satisfied with ourselves that we sit still until we have let its advantages slip from our hands."
"May I ask if, by the last news, Marshal Daun is still near Hochkirch?"
"He was so, as far as the yesterday's courier brought news. At first we thought that he had won a tremendous victory, and had eaten up Frederick's army; but the later news is that the king marched safely away, and so far from being demolished he is now perfectly master of his movements; and ready, no doubt, for another tussle, if we should advance. However, I should imagine that the snow will soon put a stop to active operations."
Then, bowing courteously, he left them, to pay a visit to the prisoners in the next casemate.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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14
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: Breaking Prison.
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"He seems to be a pleasant fellow," Fergus said, "and disposed to do his best to make us comfortable; so if we don't see any chance of getting away, we shall be able to get through the winter very fairly."
"You don't think there is any chance of escape, surely, major?"
"Pray, drop the major, Captain Stauffen, and let us call each other by our names, while we are here. The discipline of the Prussian army is admirable, and must, as a rule, be most stringently maintained by all sorts of forms and observances; but here by our three selves, confined in this casemate for no one can say how long, it is ridiculous that we should be always stiff and ceremonious. You are both some years older than I am. I have had the good fortune to have better opportunities than you have had, and have been promoted accordingly; but while here, let us try and forget all about that, and make things as pleasant all round as possible."
The two officers agreed, but not without grave doubts; for to them it was quite a serious matter to relax, even in a prison, the stringent rules that guided the relation of officers to each other in the Prussian army.
"It is a strong place," Fergus went on, "but I don't know that it is as difficult to break out of as the last place I was in."
"Have you been a prisoner before?" the two officers asked together, for both belonged to a regiment that was not with Frederick at Lobositz, and had indeed only recently come down from Berlin.
"Yes, I was taken at Lobositz and marched to Spielberg, and managed to get away from there. It is a long story, and will do to pass away the evening, when we have got the fire and can sit comfortably and talk round it. My cell there was so high in the castle that, with the wall and the rock below, there was a fall of a hundred and fifty feet, at least; so that the difficulties of escape were a good deal greater than they are here--or perhaps I should say seemed to be a good deal greater, for I don't know that they were.
"There is the tramp of a sentry outside. I suppose he walks up and down the whole length of the six casemates. I counted them as we came in. We are at one end, which, of course, is an advantage."
"Why so?" one of the others asked with a puzzled expression of face.
"Well, you see, the sentry only passes us once to every twice he passes the casemate in the middle, and has his back to us twice as long at a time."
"I should not have thought of that," Stauffen said. "Yes, I can see that if we were escaping through this door, which seems to me impossible, that it would be an advantage;" and he glanced at his companion, as if to say that there was more in this fortunate young officer than they had thought.
Among the officers who had served throughout with Frederick, the manner in which Fergus had gained his promotion was well known. His rescue of Count Eulenfurst and his family was the general subject of talk at Dresden, and even putting aside the gallantry of the action, it was considered that the army in general were indebted to him, for having saved them from the disgrace that would have attached to them had this murderous outrage been carried out successfully. The manner in which he had saved half the Prussian cavalry from destruction, by his charge through the Austrian squadron, had similarly been talked over, in every regiment engaged at Lobositz. Those who had been at Zorndorf were cognizant of the fact that he had gained his majority by saving the king's life, as this had been mentioned in the general orders of the day.
The regiment, however, to which the two officers belonged had come down from Berlin but six months before; and had formed a part of the command of Prince Maurice until Frederick had returned from Zorndorf, and had, with a portion of the force of Prince Maurice, marched out to compel Daun to abandon his impregnable position at Stolpen. They had not particularly observed Fergus on their journey south; and when, during the last two or three days of the march, they had noticed him, they had regarded him as some fortunate young fellow who had, by royal favour, received extraordinary promotion, and had been pushed up over the heads of older men simply from favouritism. Thus their manner towards him had been even more stiff and ceremonious than usual.
"Do you think, then," Stauffen said, "that there is any chance of our making our escape?"
"Oh, I have not had time to think about it, yet!" Fergus laughed. "There is generally a way, if one can but find it out; but I have no doubt that it will take a good deal of thinking before we hit upon it, and if it does nothing else for us, it will be an amusement through the long evenings to have to puzzle it out. There is no hurry, for it is not likely that there will be any more fighting before the army goes into winter quarters; and so that we are there when the campaign opens in the spring, it will be soon enough."
The door opened now. Two soldiers brought in a stove. It was placed nearly in the centre of the room. The flue went up to the top of the arch, and then turned at right angles, and passed out of the casemate through a hole just over the window.
After lighting the stove, they brought in two bundles of rushes and spread them over the floor; and then carried in a tray with dinner, and placed it on the little table. There were three stools standing by the side of the three barrack beds, each placed in a corner of the room. These they carried to the table.
The others waited to see upon which side Fergus placed his. He put it down on one side.
"Excuse me, major," Stauffen said, changing it--putting him facing the fire, and placing his own on one side, while his companion was opposite to him.
Then they stood, stiffly waiting, until Fergus, with a shrug of his shoulders, took his place.
The dinner consisted of a thin soup, followed by the meat of which it had been made, stewed up and served with a good gravy and two sorts of vegetables. The bread was white and good. A bottle of rough country wine was placed by the side of each.
"The commandant feeds us better here than I was fed at Spielberg," Fergus said cheerfully. "If I got broth there I did not get meat; if I had meat I had no broth; and they only gave me half a bottle of wine. The commandant evidently does as he says, and makes the money he gets for our keep go far. Let us drink his health, and a better employment to him. He evidently feels being kept here, instead of being with the army in the field. In fact, he is just as much a prisoner as we are, without even the satisfaction of being able to talk over plans for escape.
"Ah! I see he has sent a box of cigars, too. I finished my last as we rode here today, and was wondering when I should be able to get some more in; also tobacco for my pipe. I hope you both smoke."
Stauffen and his companion, whose name was Ritzer, both did so.
"I am glad of that," Fergus said. "I think it is very cheery and sociable when everyone smokes, but certainly when only two out of three do, it looks somehow as if the one who does not is left out in the cold. I never smoked until I came out here, two years and a half ago; but there is no doubt that at the end of a day's hard work, or when you have got to do a long ride in the dark, it is very comforting."
His efforts to keep the conversation going were not very successful. The two officers were evidently determined to maintain the distinction of rank and, saying to himself that they would probably soon get tired of it, he ceased to attempt to break down the barrier they insisted upon keeping up. After dinner was over they lighted their cigars, and then went out and mounted the steps from the yard to the ramparts.
They were soon joined by the officers from the other casemates and, separating into groups, strolled up and down, making remarks on the country round and the town behind them. Fergus had at once left his fellow prisoners and joined two or three others with whom he had been previously acquainted, one being a captain of the 3rd Royal Dragoons.
"You are with Stauffen and Ritzer, are you not, major?" the latter said. "I have a brother in the same regiment, and so know them. How do you get on with them?"
"At present they are rather stiff and distant, and insist upon treating me as the senior officer; which is absurd when we are prisoners, and they are both some fifteen years older than I am. I detest that sort of thing. Of course in a great garrison town like Berlin or Dresden the strict rules of discipline must be observed. I think they are carried altogether too far, but as it is the custom of the service there is nothing to be said about it; but here, as we are all fellows in misfortune, it seems to me simply ridiculous."
"It becomes a second nature after a time," the officer said. "The two with me are both lieutenants, and I should feel a little surprised if they did not pay me the usual respect."
"Yes, but then you are the older man, and would naturally take the lead, in any case. To me, I can assure you, it is most disagreeable to have men much older than myself insisting upon treating me as their superior officer; especially as, their regiment having only recently joined us, I suppose they set me down as some young favourite or other, who has got his promotion over the heads of deserving officers because he is related to someone in power."
"They ought to know that there is not much promotion to be gained in that way in our army, major. The king is the last man who would promote anyone for that cause. Why, Schwerin's son has served for four years and is still a cornet in our regiment! No doubt the king would be glad to promote him if he specially distinguished himself, but as he has had no opportunity of doing so, he will probably work his way up in the regiment as everyone else does."
Two or three more officers came up and joined the party, and presently Captain Ronsfeldt strolled away and joined another group. It was not long before he engaged Stauffen and Ritzer in conversation.
"You have Major Drummond in with you, have you not?"
"Yes," Stauffen said shortly. "Who is the young fellow, do you know him?"
"Yes, he first joined our regiment as junior cornet. It was less than two years and a half ago. I was senior lieutenant at the time, and now I am pretty well up on the list of captains, thanks to the work we have done and the vacancies that death has made."
"And that boy has gone over your head, and is now walking about as a major, with the order on his breast. It is enough to make one sick of soldiering. Who is he related to?"
"He is related to Marshal Keith," Ronsfeldt said quietly.
"Ah! That explains it."
"I don't think you quite understand the case, Stauffen. Certainly you don't, if you think that there has been any favouritism. I don't think anyone ever heard of Frederick promoting a man out of his turn, save for merit; and I suppose there is no one in the army who has won his rank more worthily, and who is more generally recognized as deserving it. I have never heard a single word raised against the honours he has received.
"When he rides through the camp men nudge each other and say, 'That young fellow in staff uniform is Major Drummond;' and there is not a soldier but tries to put a little extra respect into his salute."
"Are you joking, Ronsfeldt?" Ritzer asked in astonishment.
"I was never less so, Ritzer;" and he then gave them an account of the manner in which Fergus had obtained his promotion.
The two officers were silent when Ronsfeldt concluded.
"We have made fools of ourselves," Stauffen said at last, "and we must apologize, Ritzer."
"Certainly we must," the other agreed heartily. "It seemed to us that his trying to make us put aside the respect due to his rank was a sort of affectation, and really impressed it more disagreeably upon us. We took him for an upstart favourite; though we might have known, had we thought of it, that the king never promotes unduly. Who could possibly have believed that a young fellow, not yet twenty, I should say, could have so distinguished himself? It will be a lesson to us both not to judge by appearances."
The day was cold and cheerless, and after an hour spent on the rampart most of the party were glad to return to the casemates. Fergus was one of the last to go back. To his disgust the two officers rose and saluted formally, as he came in.
"We wish," Captain Stauffen said, "to express to you our deep regret at the unworthy way in which we received your request, this morning, to lay aside the distinction of rank while we are prisoners here. We were both under an error. Our regiments having only joined from Berlin a short time before the king marched with us to Hochkirch, we were altogether ignorant of the manner in which you had gained your rank, and had thought that it was the result of favouritism. We now know your highly distinguished services, and how worthily you have gained each step; and we both sincerely hope that you will overlook our boorish conduct, and will endeavour to forget the manner in which we received your kindly advances."
"Say no more about it, gentlemen," Fergus replied heartily. "I have had luck, and availed myself of it, as assuredly you would have done had the same opportunities occurred to you. I can quite understand that it seemed to you monstrous that, at my age, I should be your senior officer. I feel it myself. I am often inclined to regret that I should thus have been unduly pushed up.
"However, let us say no more about it. I do hope that we shall be as three good comrades together; and that, within this casemate at any rate, there will be no question whatever of rank, and that you will call me Drummond, as I shall call you both by your names.
"Now, let us shake hands over the bargain. Let us draw our stools round the stove and have a comfortable talk.
"I have been speaking to Major Leiberkuhn about ordering things. He tells me that the commandant says that one list must be made. On this the orders of each of the casemates must be put down separately. A sergeant will go out every day with it. Money must be given to him to cover the full extent of the orders. He will return the change, each day, when he hands in the articles required.
"I have ordered some tobacco, some better cigars than these, and three bottles of good Hungarian wine. The sergeant is going in half an hour, so we shall be able to enjoy our chat this evening. I always take the precaution of carrying twenty golden Fredericks, sewn up in the lining of my tunic. It comes in very useful, in case of an emergency of this kind."
"I am afraid that neither of us has imitated your forethought," Ritzer said with a laugh. "I have only my last month's pay in my pocket, and Stauffen is no better off."
"Ah, well! With thirty pounds among us, we shall do very well," Fergus said. "We must be careful because, if we do make our escape, we shall want money to get disguises."
"You are not really in earnest, Drummond," Stauffen said, "in what you say about escaping?"
"I am quite in earnest about getting away, if I see a chance; though I admit that, at present, the matter seems a little difficult."
"Perhaps if you will tell us about your escape from Spielberg, we shall be able to get a hint from it."
They now drew up their seats round the stove, and Fergus told them in detail the manner of his escape, omitting only the name of the noblemen at Vienna who had assisted him.
"It was excellently done," Ritzer said warmly. "Your making off in that Austrian uniform, at the only moment when such a thing could be done, was certainly a masterly stroke."
"So was the taking of the post horses," Stauffen agreed, "and your getting a disguise from the postmaster. I should like to have seen the Austrian's look of surprise, when he got his uniform back again.
"I am afraid that your adventures do not afford us any hint for getting away from here. Even you will admit that three Austrian uniforms could not be secured, and the tale by which you procured the post horses would hardly hold good in the case of three."
"No, if we get away at all it must be done in an entirely different manner. The place is not so difficult to get out of as Spielberg was, for with patience we could certainly manage to cut off the rivet heads of the bars. But I don't see, at present, how we could cross this wide moat, with a sentry pacing up and down thirty feet above us; nor climb up the brick wall on the other side, without making a noise. That done, of course we could, on a dark night, cross the glacis and swim the outer moat. All that accomplished, the question of disguises will come in. Just at present it is not very easy to see how that is to be managed.
"Can you swim?"
Both officers replied in the affirmative.
"Well, that is something gained. As to the rest, we need not bother about it, at present. We are not uncomfortable where we are, and if we get back in time for the next campaign, that is all that really matters."
The others laughed at the confident tone in which he spoke, but after hearing the details of the prior attempt, it seemed to them that their companion was capable of accomplishing what almost seemed to be impossibilities. They had, they knew, very slight chance of being exchanged so long as the war lasted. A few general officers, or others whose families possessed great influence, were occasionally exchanged; but it was evidently the policy of Austria to retain all prisoners. In the first place she desired to reduce Frederick's fighting force, and in the second, the number of Austrians taken had been very much larger than that of the Prussians captured, and the support of some fifteen or twenty thousand prisoners of war added to the drain on Frederick's resources. Three campaigns had passed without materially altering the position of the combatants, and as many more might elapse before the war came to an end. Indeed, there was no saying how long it might last, and the prospect was so unpleasant that the two officers were inclined to run a very considerable risk in attempting to obtain freedom.
A week later the snow began to fall heavily, and the moat froze.
"There is no getting across that without being seen, even on the darkest night," Fergus said, as he walked up and down the rampart with his two companions, "unless the sentry was sound asleep; and in such weather as this, that is the last thing likely to happen. Unless something altogether unexpected occurs, we shall have to postpone action till spring comes.
"Now that we have bought some books we can pass the time away comfortably. It was a happy thought of Major Leiberkuhn that each of us should buy one book, so that altogether we have got some forty between us; which, taking our reading quietly, will last us for a couple of months. They mayn't be all equally interesting; but as the sergeant bought them second-hand, at about half a franc a volume, we can lay in another stock without hurting ourselves, whenever we choose."
A few days later they bought several sets of draughts, chessmen, and dominoes, and a dozen packs of cards. This had been arranged at a general meeting, held in the major's casemate. Strict rules had been laid down that there should be no playing for money. Several of the prisoners had had only a few marks in their pockets when captured.
They agreed to meet at three o'clock, in two of the casemates by turn, as one would not hold the whole number. This made a great break in their day. It would have been better if the meeting had been held in the evening; but the regulation that, during the winter months, they were locked up at five, prevented this being adopted. So the cold weather passed not altogether unpleasantly. The strict rule that every case in which the slightest difference of opinion arose should, at once, be submitted to the adjudication of Major Leiberkuhn and the senior officer of the casemate in which it occurred, effectually prevented all disputes and quarrels over the cards and other games; and their good fellowship remained, therefore, unbroken.
In March the sun gained power, the snow and ice began to melt, and Fergus again began to think how an escape could be effected.
"I can think of only one plan," he said to his two companions, one evening. "It is clear that it is altogether hopeless to think of getting out by the door but, as we agreed, it would be possible to chip off the heads of the rivets, unbar the shutters, and let ourselves down into the moat. If we were to make our way along at the foot of the wall, the chance of our being seen by the sentry above would be very slight; for of course we should choose a night when the wind was blowing hard, and the water ruffled. In that case any splash we might make would not be heard.
"Swimming along to the corner of this face of the fort, we would turn and keep along until we reached the spot where the cut runs to the river. Crossing the moat to that would be the most dangerous part of the business, and we ought, if possible, to dive across. There is a low wall there, and a cheval-de-frise on the top of it. We should have to get out by the side of that, and then either swim along the cut, or crawl along the edge of it till we get to the river.
"Then we must crawl along under the shelter of its banks towards the town, till we get to a boat hauled up, or swim to one moored a little way out in the stream. Then we must row up the river for some distance, and land."
"That all seems possible enough, Drummond," Captain Ritzer said; "but what about our uniforms?"
"We must leave them behind, and swim in our underclothes. I should say we should take a couple of suits with us. We could make them up into bundles, and carry them on our heads while we swim. Of course, if we take them we shall not be able to dive; but must swim across the moat to the cut, and trust to the darkness for the sentries not seeing us. Then, once on board a boat, we could take off our wet things and put the dry ones on."
"But we can hardly wander about the country in shirts and drawers, Drummond," Stauffen suggested.
"Certainly not. My idea is that, as soon as we are a mile or two away, we should either board some boat where we see a light, and overpower the boatmen and take their clothes, if they will not sell them to us; or else land at some quiet house, and rig ourselves out. There should be no great difficulty about that. Once rigged out we must make south, for as soon as our escape is found out the next morning, cavalry will scour the country in every direction on this side of the river, and give notice of our escape at every town and village.
"After lying up quiet for a time, we must journey at least fifty miles west. We might make for Munich if we like; or strike the Isar at Landshut, and then work up through Ratisbon, and then through the Fichtel Mountains to Bayreuth, and so into Saxony; or from Landshut we can cross the Bohmerwald Mountains into Bohemia; or, if we like, from Munich we can keep west into Wuertemberg, up through Hesse-Darmstadt and Cassel into Hanover; or, lastly, we can go on to Mannheim and down the Rhine, and then come round by sea to Hamburg."
The others laughed.
"It looks a tremendous business, anyhow, Drummond, and I should never think of attempting it by myself," Ritzer said; "but if you assure me that you think it will be possible, I am ready to try it."
"I think that there is every chance of success, Ritzer. I really do not see why it should fail. Of course there is risk in it, but once fairly on the other side of the moat, and on the river bank, it seems comparatively safe. We can see that there are always a lot of boats moored in the stream, this side of the bridge; and by taking a small boat, we might put off to one of them and get our change of clothes, at once bind and gag the crew--there are not likely to be above two or three of them--give them a piece of gold to pay for the clothes, and then row straight up the river and land a mile or two away. That would make it plain sailing.
"Of course we should push the boat off when we landed, and it would float down past the town before daylight. The chances are that the boatmen, finding that they are no losers by the affair, would make no complaint to the authorities; but even if they did, we should be far beyond their reach by that time. All we have got to do is to choose a really dark night, with wind and rain.
"The first job to be done is to get the heads off these rivets. I have examined them carefully. They are roughly done, and I don't fancy that the iron is very hard; and our knives will, I think, make a comparatively short job of it."
"We could not work at night," Ritzer said. "The sentry in front would hear the noise."
"I think of sawing the heads off," Fergus said. "With the help of a little oil, I fancy the steel will cut through the iron. Yesterday I tapped the edge of my knife against the edge of the stone parapet--it is good steel, but very brittle--and I managed to make a pretty fair saw of it. Tomorrow I will do yours, if you like."
All carried clasp knives for cutting their food with, when serving in the field. They had oil which they had bought for dressing salads with, and Fergus at once attacked one of the rivets.
"It cuts," he said, after three or four minutes' work. "Of course it will be a long job, but we ought to do it in a week. There are three bars, and if we cut the rivets at one end of each, I have no doubt we shall be able to turn the bars on the rivets at the other end."
They relieved each other at short intervals, and worked the greater part of the night. At the end of that time the head of one of the rivets was cut almost through.
"We will leave it as it is now," Fergus said. "A quarter of an hour's work will take it off. As it is, no one would notice what has been done, unless he inspected it closely."
Greatly encouraged by this success, the others now entered warmly into his plans. Using his knife instead of a stone, he was able the next day to convert their knives into much better saws than his own had been; and the other two rivets were cut in a much shorter time than the first.
They waited another week and then the wind began to rise, and by evening half a gale was blowing, and the rain falling heavily. There was no moon, and the night would be admirably suited for their purpose. Their supper was brought in at six o'clock. Knowing that they would not be visited again until the morning, they at once began work.
As soon as they had finished cutting one rivet they tried the bar, and their united strength was quite sufficient to bend it far enough to allow it being withdrawn from the rivet; then, throwing their weight upon it, it turned upon the bolt at the other end, until it hung perpendicularly. In another half hour the other two bars were similarly removed, and the heavy shutters opened. They were closed again, until their preparations were complete.
First they ate their supper, then sat and talked until nine. Then they knotted their sheets together, and tied the underclothes into bundles.
"The Austrian government will be no losers," Fergus laughed. "They will get three Prussian uniforms, instead of six suits of prison underclothing. Now, shall I go first, or will one of you?"
"We will go according to rank," Ritzer laughed.
"Very well. Now mind, gentlemen, whatever you do, take the water quietly. I will wait until you are both down, then we will follow each other closely, so that we can help one another if necessary. I can hardly see the water from here; and the sentry, being twice as far off from it as we are, will see it less. Besides, I think it likely that they will be standing in their sentry boxes, in such a rain as this; and I feel confident that we shall get across without being seen. The river is high, and the opposite wall of the moat is only a foot above the water, so we shall have no difficulty in getting out on the other side.
"I have the money sewn in a small bag round my neck. We may as well take our knives with us. They will help us to tackle the boatmen. I think that is everything. Now, we will be off."
Fastening the sheet firmly to one of the bars, he swung himself out, slid down the rope quietly and noiselessly, and entered the water, which was so cold that it almost took his breath away. He swam a stroke or two along the wall, and waited until joined by both his comrades. Their casemate being the end one, they had but some ten or twelve yards to swim to the angle of the wall.
Another fifty took them to a point facing the cut. Fergus had paced it on the rampart above, and calculated that each stroke would take them a yard. It was too dark to see more than the dim line of the wall on the other side. He waited until the others joined him.
"Are you all right?" he asked, in a low voice.
"Yes, but this cold is frightful."
"We shall soon be out of it," he said. "Wait till I have gone a few yards, and then follow, one after the other."
The surface of the moat was so ruffled by the wind that Fergus had little fear of being seen, even if the sentry above was out and watching; but he felt sure that he would be in his sentry box, and so swam boldly across. He at once climbed onto the lower wall, and helped his two companions out. They were completely numbed by the cold.
"Come along," he said. "We are on the lower side of the cut. Crawl for a short distance, then we can get up and run, which will be the best thing for us."
In three minutes they were up on the river bank.
"Now we can change our clothes," he said. "The others will soon get wet through, but they won't be as cold as these are."
The things were soon stripped off. Each gave himself a rub with one of the dry shirts, and they were soon dressed in the double suits and stockings.
"That is better," Fergus said cheerfully. "Now for a run along the towing path."
A quarter of a mile's run and circulation was restored, and all felt comparatively comfortable. They had, at the suggestion of Fergus, wrung out the things they had taken off; and thrown them over their shoulders, so as to afford some protection against the rain. They now dropped into a slower pace and, after going for a mile, they neared the spot where the craft were lying moored in the river.
Several small boats were drawn up on the shore. One of these they launched, put out the oars, and rowed quietly to a large barge, fifty yards from the bank, on which a light was burning. Taking pains to prevent the boat striking her side, they stepped on board, fastened the head rope, and proceeded aft. A light was burning in the cabin and, looking through a little round window in the door, they saw three boatmen sitting there, smoking and playing cards. They opened their knives, slid back the door, and stepped in.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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15
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: Escaped.
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So astonishing was the spectacle of three lightly-clad men, appearing suddenly on board a craft moored out on the river, that the three boatmen sat immovable, in the attitudes in which they had been sitting at the entry of these strange visitors, without uttering a word. Superstitious by nature, they doubted whether there was not something supernatural in the appearance of the three strangers.
"If you cry out or make the slightest sound," Fergus said, showing his knife, "you are all dead men. If you sit quiet and do as we order you, no harm will come to you. We want clothes. If you have spare ones you can hand them to us. If not, we must take those you have on. We are not robbers, and don't want to steal them. If you will fix a fair price on the things, we will pay for them. But you must in any case submit to be bound and gagged till morning; when, on going on deck, you will find no difficulty in attracting the attention of some of your comrades, who will at once release you.
"Keep your hands on the table while my friends take away your knives. If one of you moves a hand, he is as good as a dead man."
His companions removed the knives from the belts of the two men sitting outside, and then Fergus said to the third man: "Now, hand over your knife. That will do.
"Now, which of you is the captain?"
"I am," the man sitting farthest from the door said.
"Very well. Now, have you spare clothes on board?"
"Yes, my lord," he replied, in a tone that showed that he had not yet recovered from his first stupefaction, "we have our Sunday suits."
"We don't want them," Fergus said. "We want the three suits that you have on. What do you value them at?"
"Anything you like, my lord."
"No, I want to know how much they cost when new."
The man asked his two comrades, and then mentioned the total.
"Very well, we will give you that. Then you will have no reason for grumbling, for you will get three new suits for three old ones.
"Now do you--" and he touched the man nearest to him "--take off your coat, waistcoat, breeches, neck handkerchief, and boots, and then get into that bunk."
The man did as he was ordered, as did the other two, in succession. As they did so, Captain Ritzer had gone up on deck and returned with a coil of thin rope that he had cut off. With this they tied the men securely.
"There is no occasion to gag them, I think," Fergus said. "They might shout as loud as they liked and, with this wind blowing, no one would hear them; or if anyone did hear them, he would take it for the shouting of a drunken man.
"Now, look here, my men. Here is the money to buy the new clothes. We have not ill treated you in any way, have we?"
"No, sir, we are quite satisfied."
"Now, I should advise you, in the morning, to manage to untie each other. We shall fasten the door up as we go out, but you will have no difficulty in bursting that open, when you are once untied.
"Now I ask you, as you are satisfied, to say nothing about this affair to anyone. It would only make you a joke among your comrades, and could do you no good. The best thing that you can do, when you get free, will be to dress yourselves in your Sunday clothes, take your boat ashore, and buy new things in the place of those we have taken."
"That is what we shall do, sir. No one would believe us, if we told them that three men had come on board and taken our old clothes, and given us money to buy new ones in their place."
The three boatmen were all tall and brawny Bavarians, and their clothes fitted Fergus and his companions well. Fishermen's hats completed their costume. The little cabin had been almost oppressively warm, and they had completely got over their chill when they left it, closing the door behind them.
They took their places in the boat, crossed to the opposite shore, which was to some extent sheltered from the wind, and rowed some three miles up. Then they landed, pushed the boat off into the stream, kept along the bank until they came to a road branching off to the left, and followed it until it struck the main road, a few hundred yards away; and then walked west.
There had been but few words spoken since they left the barge. It had been hard work rowing against wind and stream. The oars were clumsy, and it had needed all their efforts to keep the boat's head straight. Now that they were in the main road, they were somewhat more sheltered.
"Well, Drummond, we have accomplished what seemed to me, in spite of your confidence, well-nigh impossible. We have got out, we have obtained disguises, and we have eight or nine hours before our escape can be discovered. I shall believe anything you tell me, in future," Ritzer said.
"Yes," his companion agreed, "I never believed that we should succeed; though, as you had set your heart on it, I did not like to hang back. But it really did seem to me a wild scheme, altogether. I thought possibly we might get out of the fort, but I believed that your plan of getting disguises would break down altogether. The rest seemed comparatively easy.
"The rain has ceased, and the stars are coming out, which is a comfort indeed. One was often wet through, for days together, when campaigning; but after five months' coddling, an eight hours' tramp in a blinding rain would have been very unpleasant, especially as we have no change of clothes.
"Now, commanding officer, what is to be our next tale?"
"That is simple enough," Fergus said with a laugh. "We have been down with a raft of timber from the mountains, and are on our way back. That must be our story till we have passed Ratisbon. There is but one objection, and that is a serious one. As raftsmen we should certainly speak the Bavarian dialect, which none of us can do. For that reason I think it would be safer to leave the Danube at Passau, and make down through Munich. We should be at Passau tomorrow morning, and can put up at any little place by the riverside. Two days' walking will take us to Munich.
"Certainly no one would suspect us of being escaped prisoners. We can get some other clothes tomorrow morning, and finish the rest of our journey as countrymen.
"The principal thing will be to get rid of these high boots. I think in other respects there is nothing very distinctive about our dress. It will be more difficult to concoct a story, but we must hope that we sha'n't be asked many questions, and I see no reason why we should be. We shall look like peasants going from a country village to a town, but if we could hit upon some story to account for our not speaking the dialect, it would of course be a great advantage."
They walked along in silence for some time. Then he went on: "I should say we might give out that we are three Saxons who, having been forced at Pirna to enter the Prussian army, had been taken prisoners at Hochkirch and had been marched down with the others to Vienna; and that there, on stating who we were and how we had been forced against our will into Frederick's army, we were at once released, and are now on our way back to Saxony; and are tramping through Bavaria, so as to avoid the risk of being seized and compelled to serve either in the Austrian army or the Prussian; and that we are working our way, doing a job wherever we can get a day or two's employment, but that at present, having worked for a time at Vienna, we are able to go on for a bit without doing so.
"I think with that story we could keep to the plan of going up through Ratisbon. It would be immensely shorter, and the story would be more probable than that we should make such a big detour to get home."
"Yes, I should think that would do well," Ritzer said, "and will shorten the way by two hundred miles. But after leaving Passau, I should think that we had better not follow the direct road until we get to Ratisbon.
"I grant that as far as that town we ought to be quite safe, for there is no chance of their finding out that we have escaped until eight o'clock in the morning; then our colonel will have to report the matter to the commandant in the town. No doubt he will send off a small party of cavalry, by the Freyberg road to Budweis, to order the authorities there to keep a sharp lookout for three men passing north. But I doubt very much whether they will think of sending in this direction. The escape of three Prussian officers is, after all, no very important matter. Still, one cannot be too careful, for possibly the commandant may send to Munich, Ratisbon, and Vienna.
"It is more likely, however, that the search will be made principally in and round Linz. They will feel quite sure that we cannot possibly have obtained any disguises, and must have gone off in our undergarments; and they will reckon that we should naturally have hidden up in some outhouse, or country loft, until we could find some opportunity for obtaining clothes. Most likely the barge went on this morning, before the alarm had been given; but even if it didn't, boatmen would not be likely to hear of the escape of three prisoners.
"No, I think beyond Passau we shall be quite safe, as far as pursuit goes; but it will be best to halt there only long enough to take a good meal, and then to go on for a bit, and stop at some quiet riverside village."
"I don't think I shall be able to go very far," Ritzer said. "These boots are a great deal too large for me, and are chafing my feet horribly. The road is good and level; and I was thinking, just now, of taking them off and carrying them."
"That would be the best way, by far," Fergus said. "I should think at Passau we are sure to find a boat going up to Ratisbon, and that will settle the difficulty."
The distance was some thirty miles and, making one or two halts for a rest, they reached Passau just as morning was breaking. In a short time the little inns by the river opened their doors, and the riverside was astir. They went into one of the inns and ate a hearty meal, then they went down to the waterside, and found that there were several country boats going up the river. They soon bargained for a passage, and had just time to buy a basket of bread, sausage, and cheese, with half a dozen bottles of wine, before the boat started. There were no other passengers on board and, telling the story they had agreed upon, they were soon on good terms with the boatmen.
Including the windings of the river, it was some eighty miles to Ratisbon. The boat was towed by two horses, and glided pleasantly along, taking three days on the passage. They bought food at the villages where the craft lay up for the night, and arrived at Ratisbon at nine o'clock in the evening. There they found no difficulty in obtaining a lodging at a small inn, where no questions, whatever, were asked.
A short day's journey took them to Neumarkt, a tramp of upwards of twenty miles. It was a longer journey on to Bamberg, and two days later, to their satisfaction, they entered Coburg.
They were now out of Bavaria, and had escaped all difficulties as to the dialect far better than they had anticipated, never having been asked any questions since they left the boat at Ratisbon. They had now only to say that they were on their way to join the Confederate army that was again being gathered; but they preferred avoiding all questions, by walking by night and resting at little wayside inns during the day. Avoiding all towns, for the troops were beginning to move, they crossed the Saxon frontier three days after leaving Coburg, and then travelled by easy stages to Dresden.
Here they went straight to the headquarters of the commandant of the town, and reported themselves to him. Fergus had personal acquaintances on his staff, and had no difficulty in obtaining, for himself and his companions, an advance of a portion of the pay due to them, in order that they might obtain new outfits.
This took a couple of days, and the two captains then said goodbye to Fergus, with many warm acknowledgments for the manner in which he had enabled them to regain their freedom--expressions all the more earnest since they heard that the Austrians had decided that, in future, they would make no exchanges whatever of prisoners--and started to rejoin their regiments.
Fergus felt strangely lonely when they had left him. The king was at Breslau. Keith was lying dead in Hochkirch. What had become of Lindsay he knew not, nor did he know to whom he ought to report himself, or where Karl might be with his remaining charger and belongings. Hitherto at Dresden he had felt at home. Now, save for Count Eulenfurst and his family, he was a stranger in the place.
Naturally, therefore, he went out to their chateau. Here he was received with the same warmth as usual.
"Of course we heard of your capture at Hochkirch," the count said, "though not for many weeks afterwards. We were alarmed when the news came of the marshal's death, for as it was upon his division that the brunt of the battle had fallen, we feared greatly for you. At last came the list the Austrians had sent in of the prisoners they had taken, and we were delighted to see your name in it; though, as the Austrians have been so chary of late of exchanging prisoners, we feared that we might not see you for some time. However, remembering how you got out of Spielberg, we did not despair of seeing you back in the spring.
"Thirza was especially confident. I believe she conceives you capable of achieving impossibilities. However, you have justified her faith in you.
"Supper will be served in a few minutes, and as no doubt your story is, as usual, a long one, we will not begin it until we have finished the meal. But tell us first, how were you captured?"
"I was riding through the mist to find the marshal; whom I had not seen for two hours, as I was with the regiment that defended the church at Hochkirch, and then cut its way out through the Austrians. The mist was so thick that I could not see ten yards ahead, and rode plump into an Austrian battalion. They fired a volley that killed poor Turk, and before I could get on my feet I was surrounded and taken prisoner--not a very heroic way, I must admit."
"A much pleasanter way, though, than that of being badly wounded, and so found on the field by the enemy," the countess said; "and you were fortunate, indeed, in getting through that terrible battle unhurt."
"I was, indeed, countess; but I would far rather have lost a limb than my dear friend and relation, the marshal. I was allowed to attend his funeral the next day. The Austrians paid him every honour and, though I have mourned for him most deeply, I cannot but feel that it was the death he would himself have chosen. He had been ailing for some months, and had twice been obliged to leave his command and rest. It would, in any case, probably have been his last campaign; and after such a wonderfully adventurous life as he had led, he would have felt being laid upon the shelf sorely."
"His elder brother--Earl Marischal in Scotland, is he not? --who has been governor for some years at Neufchatel, is with the king at Breslau, at present. They say the king was greatly affected at the loss of the marshal who, since Schwerin's death, has been his most trusted general."
"I have never seen the marshal's brother," Fergus said, "though I know that they were greatly attached to each other. I hope that he will be at Breslau when I get there. I shall go and report myself to the king, after I have had a few days' rest here. At present I seem altogether unattached. The marshal's staff is, of course, broken up; but as I served on the king's own staff twice, during the last campaign, I trust that he will put me on it again."
"That he will do, of course," the count said. "After saving his life at Zorndorf, he is sure to do so."
Supper was now announced, and after it had been removed and the party drew round the fire, Fergus told them the story of his escape.
"It was excellently managed," the count said, when he had finished. "I do not know that it was quite as dramatic as your escape from Spielberg, but I should think that, of the two, the escape from Linz must have seemed the most hopeless. The plan of getting the shutters open and of swimming the moat might have occurred to anyone; but the fact that you were in uniform, and that it would have been impossible to smuggle in a disguise, would have appeared to most men an insuperable obstacle to carrying out the plan.
"You certainly are wonderfully full of resource. As a rule, I should think that it is much more difficult for two men to make their escape from a place than it is for one alone; but it did not seem to be so, in this case."
"It certainly did not add to the difficulty of getting out of the fort, count. Indeed, in one respect it rendered it more easy. There were three of us to work at the heads of the rivets, and it certainly facilitated our getting clothes from the boatmen, besides rendering the journey much more pleasant than it would have been for one of us alone.
"On the other hand, it would have been impossible to carry out the escape from Spielberg in the manner I did, if I had had two officers with me in the cell. We could not have hoped to obtain three uniforms, could hardly have expected all to slip by the sentry unnoticed. Lastly, the three of us could not have got post horses. Still, it is quite possible that we might have escaped in some other manner."
"Then you have not the most remote idea where you will find your servant and horse?"
"Not the slightest. If Captain Lindsay got safely through the battle of Hochkirch, I should say that my man would stick by him. His servant, a tough Scotchman, and Karl are great chums; and I have no doubt that, unless he received positive orders to the contrary, Karl has kept company with him."
"Of course you can find out, from the authorities here, who has taken command of Marshal Keith's division; and might possibly hear whether he took over the marshal's personal staff, or whether he brought his own officers with him."
"Yes, I should think I might do that, count. I think I shall in any case report myself to the king; but if Lindsay were stationed at any place I could pass through, on my way to Breslau, I would pick up Karl and my horse."
"I shall of course send you another horse tomorrow," the count said. "No, no, it is of no use your saying anything against it. It was settled that I should supply you with mounts, while the war lasted, and I intend to carry that out fully. I don't know that I have another in my stables here that is quite equal to the other pair, but there are two or three that approach them very nearly. If you can get a mounted orderly, well and good; if not, I will lend you one of my men. Any of my grooms would be delighted to go with you, for all regard you as the saviour of our lives.
"I am afraid, my friend, you will not be able to pay us many more visits. Your king is a miracle of steadfastness, of energy, and rapidity; but even he cannot perform impossibilities. Leave out the Russians, and I believe that he would be more than a match for the Austrians, who are hampered by the slowness of their generals; but Russia cannot be ignored. In the first campaign she was non-existent, in the second she annexed East Prussia. This year you have had a deadly tussle with her, next year she may be still more formidable; and I do not believe that Frederick with all his skill, and with the splendid valour his troops show, can keep the Russians from advancing still further into the country, and at the same time prevent the Austrians and the Federal army from snatching Dresden from his grasp.
"I myself should regret this deeply. Prussia, although she taxes the population heavily, at least permits no disorders nor ill treatment of the people, no plundering of the villages; while the Austrians, Croats, and Pandoors will spread like a swarm of hornets over the land, and the state of the Saxons under their so-called rescuers will be infinitely worse than it has been under their conquerors."
"It would be a heavy blow to the king to lose Dresden," Fergus agreed, "but I am by no means sure that he would not be better without it; except, of course, that it would bring the enemy so much nearer to Berlin, otherwise the loss of Saxony would be a benefit to him. During all his movements, and in all his combinations, he is forced to keep an eye on Dresden. At one moment it is Soubise, with his mixed army of French, Austrians, and Confederate troops, who have to be met and, leaving all else, Frederick is forced to march away two or three hundred miles, and waste two or three precious months before he can get a blow at them. Then he has to leave a considerable force to prevent them gathering again, while he hurries back to prevent Daun from besieging Dresden, or to wrest Silesia again out of his hands. Saxony lost, he could devote his whole mind and his whole power to the Russian and Austrian armies; who will no doubt, at the next campaign, endeavour to act together; and the nearer they are to each other, the more easily and rapidly can he strike blows at them alternately."
"Perhaps you are right," the count said, "and certainly the Austrians would have to keep a considerable force to garrison Dresden and hold Saxony; for they would be sure that, at the very first opportunity, Frederick would be among them raining his blows rapidly and heavily. As to any advance north, they would not dare attempt it; for Frederick, who can move more than twice as fast as any Austrian army, would fall on their flank or rear and annihilate them.
"Still, the blow would be undoubtedly a heavy one for the king, inasmuch as it would greatly raise the spirits of his enemies, and would seem to show them that the end was approaching."
"I think the end is a good way off still, count. Even if the Russians and Austrians marched across Prussia, they would hold little more than the ground they stood on. Frederick would be ever hovering round them, attacking them on every opportunity, and preventing them from sending off detached columns; while the cavalry of Ziethen and Seidlitz would effectually prevent Cossacks and Croats from going out to gather stores for the armies, and to plunder and massacre on their own account. I doubt whether anything short of the annihilation of his army would break the king's spirit and, so far as I can see, that is by no means likely to take place."
"However, the point at present, my friend, is that if the Austrians get Dresden, it may be long before we see you again."
"I fancy that when the army goes into winter quarters again, if I am able to get leave of absence, I shall do myself the pleasure of paying you a visit, whether the city has changed hands or not. If one can travel twice through Austria without being detected, it is hard indeed if I cannot make my way into Saxony."
"But you must not run too great risks," the countess said. "You know how glad we should be to see you, and that we regard you as one of ourselves; but even a mother could hardly wish a son to run into such danger, in order that they might see each other for a short time."
"What do you say, Thirza?" her father asked.
The girl, thus suddenly addressed, coloured hotly.
"I should be glad to see him, father--he knows that very well--but I should not like him to run risks."
"But he is always running risks, child; and that, so far as I can see, without so good a reason. At any rate, I shall not join your mother in protesting. What he says is very true. He has twice made his way many hundreds of miles in disguise, for the purpose of getting here in time for the first fighting; and I do not think that there will be anything like the same risk in his coming here to pay us a visit.
"At the same time, I would not say a single word to induce him to do so. There is no saying where he may be when the next winter sets in, or what may take place during the coming campaign. In times like these it is folly to make plans of any sort, three months in advance. I only say therefore that, should everything else be favourable, I think that an Austrian occupation of Saxony would not be a very serious obstacle to his paying us a visit, next winter.
"Once here, he would be absolutely safe, and as the household know what he has done for us--and probably for them, for there is no saying whether some, at least, of them might not have been killed by those villains--their absolute discretion and silence can be relied upon.
"However, it may be that we shall see him long before that. The king may have occasion to be here many times, during the summer."
The count would not hear of Fergus returning to the hotel where he had put up, and for a week he remained at the chateau, where the time passed very pleasantly. The luxurious appointments, the hospitable attentions of his host and hostesses, and the whole of his surroundings formed a strong contrast, indeed, both to his life when campaigning, and the five months he had spent in the casemate at Linz.
At the end of that time he felt he ought to be on the move again. He had learnt that the officers of the marshal's staff had been dispersed, some being attached to other divisions; and that Lindsay was now upon the staff of Prince Henry. The prince was out Erfurt way, and had already had some sharp fighting with the French and the Confederate army. Fergus had learned this on the day after his arrival at the chateau, and also that to the east there was no sign of any movement on the part of Daun or of the king. He therefore suffered himself to be persuaded to stay on for the week.
"Nobody is expecting you, Drummond," the count said. "No doubt they will be glad to see you, but they will be just as glad ten days later as ten days earlier. You are believed to be safe in some Austrian prison, and you may be sure that no one will make any inquiries whether you spent a week, or a month, in recovering from your fatigues before taking up your duties again. At any rate, you must stay for at least a week."
The visit was, indeed, extended two days beyond that time; for the count and countess so pressed him that he was glad to give way, especially as his own inclinations strongly seconded their entreaties. On the ninth morning he was astonished when his bedroom door opened and Karl came in, and gave his morning's salute as impassively as if he had seen him the evening before.
[Illustration: "Why, Karl!" Fergus exclaimed, "where do you spring from--when did you arrive?"]
"Why, Karl!" he exclaimed, "where do you spring from--how did you know that I was here--when did you arrive?"
"I arrived last night, major, but as it was late we went straight to the stable."
"Who is we, Karl?"
"The count's messenger, sir. He reached me at Erfurt, where I was with Captain Lindsay, four days ago; and I started with him half an hour later. He had set out from here with a led horse, and had ridden through with but one night in bed; and we had changes of horses, coming back. And Tartar is in good condition, major. I led him all the way down."
"That is most kind and thoughtful of the count," Fergus exclaimed, as he began to dress.
"Well, I am heartily glad to see you again, Karl. I was by no means sure that you had got off safely at Hochkirch. I looked round for you, directly I had been captured; but could see nothing of you, and knew not whether you had ridden off, or had been killed by that volley that finished poor Turk, and brought about my capture."
"It was a bad business, major, and I have never forgiven myself that I was not by your side; but the thing was so sudden that I was taken altogether by surprise. My horse was grazed with a bullet, and what with that and the sudden flash of fire, he bolted. I had just caught sight of you and Turk, going down in a heap, as my horse spun round; and it had galloped a full hundred yards before I could check it.
"Then I did not know what was best to do. It seemed to me that you must certainly be killed. If I had been sure that you had been wounded and taken prisoner I should have gone back; but even then I might, more likely than not, have been shot by the Austrians before I could explain matters. But I really thought that you were killed; and as, from the shouting and firing, it seemed to me that the enemy had it all their own way there, I rode back to the farmhouse.
"Luckily the Austrians had not got there, so I took Tartar and rode with him to the king's quarters, and left him with his grooms, who knew him well enough; and then later on, having nothing else to do, I joined Seidlitz, and had the satisfaction of striking many a good blow in revenge for you.
"Late in the afternoon when the fighting was over I found Captain Lindsay, and told him about your loss. He comforted me a bit by saying that he did not think you were born to be shot, and said that I had better stay with Donald till there was news about you. Two days later he told me they had got the list of the prisoners the Austrians had taken, and that you were with them, and unwounded.
"Then, major, I was furious with myself that I had not been taken prisoner, too. I should have been more troubled still if Captain Lindsay had not said that, in the first place, Tartar would have been lost if I had not come back straight to fetch him; and that, in the second place, it was not likely you would have been able to keep me with you had I been a prisoner, and we might not even have been shut up in the same fortress.
"I asked him what I had better do, and he said: "'I am going west to join Prince Henry. You had better come with me. You may be sure that there will be no questions asked about you, one way or the other. I have no doubt Major Drummond will be back in the spring. He is sure to get out, somehow.'
"It seemed to me that that was the best plan too, major. If I had been sent back to my regiment, I don't know what I should have done with your horse; and then, if you did return, I might not have heard about it, and you would not have known what had become of me. Once or twice during the last month Captain Lindsay has said to me: "'Your master ought to have been here before this, Karl. I quite reckoned on his arriving by the end of March.'
"I said perhaps you had not been able to get out, but he would not hear of it. He said once: "'If you were to head up the major in a barrel, he could find a way out of it somehow. He will be back soon.'
"He seemed so positive about it that I was not a bit surprised when the messenger came, and said that you were at the count's here, and that I was to ride with him post haste, so as to catch you before you started to join the king at Breslau.
"Captain Lindsay was as pleased as I was. He was just mounting when the messenger came in, but wrote a line on the leaf of his pocket book. Here it is, sir."
The slip of paper merely contained the words: "A thousand welcomes, my dear Drummond! I have been expecting you for some time. I wish you had turned up here, instead of at Dresden. Hope to see you again soon."
By this time Fergus had dressed.
"My dear count," he exclaimed, as he entered the room where the count and his wife and daughter were already assembled, "how can I thank you for your great kindness, in taking such pains to fetch Karl and my horse down for me."
"I had no great pains about the matter," the count replied, with a smile. "I simply wrote to my steward that a messenger must be sent to Erfurt, at once; to order Major Drummond's soldier servant to come here, at all speed, with his master's horse and belongings. " 'Make what arrangements you like,' I said, 'for relays of horses; but anyhow, he must get to Erfurt in three days, and I will give him four for coming back again with the man. He is to be found at the quarters of Captain Lindsay, who is on the staff of Prince Henry. If Captain Lindsay himself is away, you must find out his servant.'
"That was all the trouble that I had in the matter. You have really to thank Thirza, for it was her idea. Directly you had left the room, after your telling us that Lindsay was with Prince Henry and most likely at Erfurt, she said: "'I should think, father, that there would be time to fetch Major Drummond's servant and horse. It is not so very far, and surely it might be done in a week.' " 'Well thought of!' I said. 'It is a hundred and seventy miles. A courier with relays of horses could do it in three days, without difficulty; and might be back here again, with Drummond's servant, in another four days. I will give orders at once. We can manage to get Drummond to delay his departure for a day or two.'
"So the thing was done."
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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16
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: At Minden.
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On the following day Fergus started, riding the new horse the count had given him, while Karl led Tartar. The journey to Breslau was performed without adventure. He found on arrival that the king had, ten days before, gone to Landshut, round which place a portion of his army was cantoned. At Landshut he commanded the main pass into Bohemia, was in a position to move rapidly towards any point where Daun might endeavour to break through into Silesia, and was yet but a few marches from Dresden, should the tide of war flow in that direction.
Already several blows had been struck at the enemy. As early as the 16th of February, Prince Henry had attacked the Confederate army which, strengthened by some Austrian regiments, had intended to fortify itself in Erfurt, and driven it far away; while the Prince of Brunswick had made a raid into the small Federal states, and carried off two thousand prisoners. Early in March a force from Glogau had marched into Poland, and destroyed many Russian magazines; while on April 13th, the very day on which Fergus arrived at Breslau, Duke Ferdinand had fought a battle with the French army under Broglio, near Bergen. The French, however, were very strongly posted, and Ferdinand was unable to capture their position, and lost twenty-five hundred men, while the French loss was but nineteen hundred.
On the same day Prince Henry crossed the mountains, and destroyed all the Austrian magazines through the country between Eger and Prague--containing food for an army of fifty thousand for five months--captured three thousand prisoners, and burnt two hundred boats collected on the Elbe, near Leitmeritz; and was back again after an absence of but nine days. A fortnight later he was off again, marching this time towards Bamberg, burning magazines and carrying off supplies. He captured Bayreuth and Bamberg, took twenty-five hundred prisoners, and struck so heavy a blow at the little princelings of the Confederacy that he was able to leave matters to themselves in the west, should the king require his aid against Daun or the Russians.
On the 16th of April Fergus arrived at Landshut, and proceeded to the royal quarters. On sending his name to the king, he was at once ushered in.
"So you have returned, Major Drummond," Frederick said cordially, "and in plenty of time to see the play! Though indeed, I should not be surprised if it is some time before the curtain draws up. I had some hopes that you might rejoin, for after your last escape I doubted whether any Austrian prison would hold you long. I am glad to see you back again.
"Ah! it was a heavy loss, that of our good marshal. None but myself can say how I miss him. He was not only, as a general, one of the best and most trustworthy; but as a friend he was always cheery, always hopeful, one to whom I could tell all my thoughts. Ah! If I had but taken his advice at Hochkirch, I should not have had to mourn his loss.
"It was a heavy blow to you also, Major Drummond."
"A heavy blow indeed, your Majesty. He was as kind to me as if he had been my father."
"I will try to supply his place," the king said gravely. "He died in my service, and through my error.
"For my own sake, I am glad that you are here. You have something of his temperament, and I can talk freely with you, too, whatever comes into my head."
"I did not know whether I did rightly in coming to report myself direct to you, sire; but your kindness has always been so great to me that I thought it would be best to come straight to you, instead of reporting myself elsewhere, having indeed no fixed post or commander."
"You did quite right. By the way, Keith's brother, the Scottish Earl Marischal, is here."
He touched a bell, and said to the officer who came in: "Will you give my compliments to Earl Marischal Keith, and beg him to come to me for a few minutes."
Two minutes later Keith entered--a tall man, less strongly built than his brother, but much resembling him.
"Excuse my sending for you, Earl Marischal," the king said, "but I wanted to introduce to you your young cousin, Major Drummond; a very brave young officer, as you may well imagine, since he has already gained that rank, and wears our military order of the Black Eagle. He tells me that he has not hitherto met you; but he came over here at your brother's invitation, was a very great favourite of his, and was deeply attached to him."
"My brother mentioned you frequently, in his letters to me," Keith said, holding out his hand to Fergus. "I knew but little of your mother, first cousin as she is; for being ten years older than my brother, she was but a little child in my eyes when I last saw her. Were it not that I am past military work, I would gladly try to fill my brother's place to you; but if I cannot aid you in your profession, I can at least give you a share of my affection."
"As to his profession, Keith, that is my business," the king said. "He saved my life at Zorndorf, and has in so many ways distinguished himself that his success in his career is already assured. He is, by many years, the youngest major in the service; and if this war goes on, there is no saying to what height he may rise.
"He has just returned from an Austrian prison where, as I told you when you joined me, he was carried after Hochkirch. I don't know yet how he escaped. He must dine with me this evening, and afterwards he shall tell us about it. Mitchell dines with us, also. He, too, is a friend of this young soldier, and has a high opinion of him."
That evening after dinner Fergus related to the party, which consisted only of the king, Keith, and the British ambassador, how he had escaped from prison.
"The next time the Austrians catch you, Major Drummond," the king said when he had finished, "if they want to keep you, they will have to chain you by the leg, as they used to do in the old times."
For months the Prussian and Austrian armies lay inactive. Daun had supposed that, as the king had begun the three previous campaigns by launching his forces into Bohemia, he would be certain to follow the same policy; and he had therefore placed his army in an almost impregnable position, and waited for the king to assume the offensive. Frederick, however, felt that with his diminished forces he could no longer afford to dash himself against the strong positions so carefully chosen and intrenched by the enemy; and must now confine himself to the defensive, and leave it to the Austrians to attempt to cross the passes and give battle. The slowness with which they marched, in comparison with the speed at which the Prussian troops could be taken from one point to another, gave him good ground for believing that he should find many opportunities for falling upon the enemy, when in movement.
It was a long time before the Austrian general recognized the change in Frederick's strategy, still longer before he could bring himself to abandon his own tactics of waiting and fortifying, and determine to abandon his strongholds and assume the offensive. When July opened he had, by various slow and careful marches, planted himself in a very strong position at Marklissa; while Frederick, as usual, was watching him. Daun was well aware that Frederick, of all things, desired to bring on a battle; but knowing that the Russians, one hundred thousand strong, under Soltikoff, were steadily approaching, he determined to wait where he was, and to allow the brunt of the fighting, for once, to fall on them.
Fergus, by this time, was far away. The long weeks had passed as slowly to him as they had to the king, and he was very glad indeed when, on the 2nd of June, Frederick said to him: "I know that you are impatient for action, Major Drummond. Your blood is younger than mine, and I feel it hard enough to be patient, myself. However, I can find some employment for you. Duke Ferdinand has now, you know, twelve thousand English troops with him. He has written to me saying that, as neither of his aides-de-camp can speak English, he begs that I would send him an officer who can do so; for very few of the British are able to speak German, and serious consequences might arise from the misapprehension of orders on the day of battle. Therefore I have resolved to send you to him, and you can start tomorrow, at daybreak. I will have a despatch prepared for you to carry to the duke; who of course, by the way, knows you, and will, I am sure, be glad to have you with him. Later on I must send another of my Scottish officers to take your place with him, for I like having you with me. However, at present you are wasting your time, and may as well go."
"We are off again tomorrow morning, Karl," Fergus said, in high spirits, as he reached his quarters.
"That is the best news that I have heard since the count's messenger brought me word, at Erfurt, that you had returned, major. It has been the dullest six weeks we have had since we first marched from Berlin; for while in winter one knows that nothing can be done, and so is content to rest quietly, in spring one is always expecting something, and if nothing comes of it one worries and grumbles."
"It is a long ride we are going this time, Karl."
"I don't care how how long it is, major, so that one is moving."
"I am going to join the Duke of Brunswick's staff."
"That is something like a ride, major," Karl said in surprise, "for it is right from one side of Prussia to the other."
"Yes, it is over four hundred and fifty miles."
"Well, major, we have got good horses, and they have had an easy time of it, lately."
"How long do you think that we shall take?"
"Well, major, the horses can do forty miles a day, if they have a day to rest, halfway. Your horses could do more, riding them on alternate days; but it would be as much as mine could do to manage that."
"We must take them by turns, Karl. That will give each horse a partial rest--one day out of three."
"Like that they could do it, I should say, major, in about a fortnight."
They rode first to Breslau, and thence to Magdeburg, passing through many towns on the long journey, but none of any great importance. At Magdeburg they heard that they must make for Hanover, where they would be able to ascertain the precise position of the duke's army, which was on the northern frontier of Westphalia.
While the French, under the Duke of Broglio, were advancing north from Frankfort-on-Maine; another French army, under Contades, was moving against Ferdinand from the west. As it was probable that there would, at least, be no great battle until the two French armies combined, Fergus, who had already given his horses two days' complete rest, remained for three days at Magdeburg; as it was likely that he would have to work them hard, when he joined the duke.
Five days later he rode into the Duke of Brunswick's principal camp, which was near Osnabrueck, where was situated his central magazine.
"I am glad to see you, Major Drummond," the duke said cordially, when Fergus reported himself. "I thought perhaps the king would select you for the service, and I know how zealous and active you are. I am greatly in need of a staff officer who can speak English, for none of mine can do so.
"I think that we shall have some hard fighting here, soon. You see that I am very much in the position of the king, menaced from two directions. If I move to attack Contades, Broglio will have Hanover entirely open to him; while if I move against him, Contades will capture Muenster and Osnabrueck and get all my magazines, and might even push on and occupy the town of Hanover, before I could get back. So you see, I have nothing to do but to wait in this neighbourhood until I see their designs.
"I have some twelve thousand of your countrymen here, and I rely upon them greatly. We know how they fought at Fontenoy. Splendid fellows they are. There is a Scotch regiment with them, whose appearance in kilts and feathers in no slight degree astonishes both the people and my own soldiers. Their cavalry are very fine, too. They have much heavier horses than ours, and should be terrible in a charge.
"How long have you been on the road?"
"I have been eighteen days, sir. I could have ridden faster myself, having a spare charger, but my orderly could hardly travel more rapidly; and indeed, when I got to Magdeburg, and found that it was not likely that there would be any engagement for some time, I allowed the horses three days' rest, so that they should be fit for service as soon as they arrived here."
A tent was at once erected in the staff lines for Fergus. He found, upon inquiry, that the British division was at present at Muenster. He was invited by the duke to dinner that evening, and was introduced to the officers of the staff; who received him courteously, but with some surprise that one so young should not only bear the rank of major, but the coveted insignia of the Black Eagle.
The duke, however, when the introductions were over, gave them a short account of the newcomer's services, and after dinner begged Fergus to tell them how he escaped from Linz; and they had a hearty laugh over the manner in which he and his companions obtained their first disguise.
"I have heard something of this," Colonel Zolwyn, the head of the staff, said. "Captains Stauffen and Ritzer were both ordered here, on their arrival at Berlin; and though I have not met them, I have heard from others of their escape from Linz, which they ascribed entirely to a major of Marshal Keith's staff, who was a fellow prisoner of theirs."
For the next three weeks Fergus was on horseback from morning till night. The movements of the troops were incessant. The two French generals manoeuvred with great skill, giving no opportunity for the Duke of Brunswick to strike a blow at either. Broglio, guided by a treacherous peasant, captured Minden by surprise. Contades, with thirty thousand men, had taken up an unassailable position: his right wing on the Weser, and his left on impassable bogs and quagmires, and with his front covered by the Bastau, a deep and unfordable brook. Thirty thousand of his troops were occupied in besieging Muenster and Osnabrueck, and other places, and succeeded in capturing the latter, containing the duke's magazines of hay and cavalry forage.
The duke's position became very grave, and the French believed that, in a very short time, they would be masters of all Hanover. Broglio's force of twenty thousand men was on the east side of the Weser, and Ferdinand was unable to move to strike a blow at the detached force of Contades; for had he done so, Broglio would have captured the city of Hanover, which lay perfectly open to him within a day's march.
Fergus had been specially employed in carrying despatches to the British division, and had made many acquaintances among the officers. As the army gradually concentrated, when the French forces drew closer together, he often spent the evening in their tents when the day's work was done.
In the Scotch regiment he was soon quite at home. The fact that he was related to Marshal Keith, of whom every Scotchman was proud, and had been one of his aides-de-camp, sufficed in itself to render him at once popular. The officers followed with eager interest the accounts of the various battles he had witnessed, and little by little extracted from him some account of the manner in which he had won his steps so rapidly in the Prussian service. He found that they, and the British troops in general, had a profound dislike for Lord Sackville; who commanded them, but who was especially in command of their cavalry. All described him as a heavy, domineering fellow, personally indolent and slow, on ill terms with the Duke of Brunswick, whom in a quiet and obstinate way he seemed bent on thwarting.
"He is an ill-conditioned brute," one of the officers remarked. "The only thing to be said for him is that he is not deficient in personal courage. He has fought several duels, into which he brought himself by his overbearing temper."
Although he had frequently carried despatches to Sackville, Fergus had not exchanged a word with him. The English general had taken the paper from his hand, barely acknowledging his salute; and not indeed glancing at him, but turning on his heel and walking off to read the contents of the despatch, which generally appeared to displease him, judging by the manner in which he spoke to his officers. Then he would go into his tent, and one of his aides-de-camp would shortly come out with a letter containing his reply.
Fergus naturally came to regard the English commander with the same dislike that his own officers felt for him. One day, when handing him a despatch, he omitted the usual salute. Sackville noticed it at once.
"Why do you not salute, sir?" he said, raising his head, and for the first time looking at the duke's aide-de-camp.
"This is the twelfth time, sir, that I have brought despatches from the Duke of Brunswick. Upon each occasion I have made the military salute. By the regulations of the army, I believe that the superior officer is as much bound to return a salute as the inferior officer is to render it. As you have not chosen, upon any one of those twelve occasions, to return my salute, I see no reason why I should continue to give it."
Sackville looked at him as he shouted in English, with astonishment and rage: "And who the devil are you?"
"I am Major Fergus Drummond, a companion of the order of the Black Eagle, and an aide-de-camp of the King of Prussia."
"The deuce you are!" Sackville said insolently. "I did not know that the King of Prussia promoted lads to be majors, chose them for his aides-de-camp, and made them companions of his order."
"Then, sir, you know it now," Fergus said quietly; "and for an explanation of my rank, I beg to refer you to the Duke of Brunswick; who will, I doubt not, be not unwilling to explain the matter to you."
"I shall report your insolence to the duke, at any rate, sir. Were it not for my position here, I would myself condescend to give you the lesson of which you seem to me to be in want."
"I should doubt, sir, whether I could receive any lesson at your hands; but after this affair has terminated, I shall be happy to afford you an opportunity of endeavouring to do so."
Lord Sackville was on the point of replying, when the colonel of his staff, whom Fergus had met at dinner at the duke's, and who spoke German fluently, came up and said: "Pardon me, general. Can I speak to you for a moment?"
Fergus reined back his horse a length or two, while the officer spoke rapidly to Lord Sackville.
"I don't care a fig," the latter burst out passionately.
The officer continued to speak. The general listened sullenly, then turning to Fergus, he said: "Well, sir, we shall leave the matter as it is. As soon as this battle is over, I shall waive my rank and meet you."
"I shall be ready at any time," Fergus said; and then, formally saluting, he rode away.
"I suppose you have no answer, Major Drummond," the duke said, when he returned to his quarters; "but indeed, there is none needed."
"I have no answer, sir, and indeed did not wait for one. Lord Sackville and I had a somewhat hot altercation;" and he related, word for word, what had passed.
"It is a pity, but I cannot blame you," the duke said, when Fergus had finished. "The man has given me a great deal of trouble, ever since he joined us with his force. He is always slow in obeying orders. Sometimes he seems wilfully to misunderstand them, and altogether he is a thorn in my side. I am glad, indeed, that the British infantry division are entirely under my control. With them I have no difficulty whatever. He was entirely in the wrong in this matter; and I certainly should address a remonstrance to him, on the subject of his manner and language to one of my staff, but our relations are already unpleasantly strained, and any open breach between us might bring about a serious disaster."
"I certainly should not wish that you should make any allusion to the matter, sir. Possibly I may have an opportunity of teaching him to be more polite, after we have done with the French."
By two sudden strokes the duke, in the third week of July, obtained possession of Bremen, thereby obtaining a port by which stores and reinforcements from England could reach him; and also recaptured Osnabrueck, and found to his great satisfaction that the French had also established a magazine there, so that the stores were even larger than when they had taken it from him.
The great point was to induce Contades to move from his impregnable position. He knew that both Contades and Broglio were as anxious as he was to bring about a battle, did they but see an advantageous opportunity; and he took a bold step to tempt them.
On the 30th of July he sent the Hereditary Prince, with a force of ten thousand men, to make a circuit and fall upon Gohfeld, ten miles up the Weser; and so cut the line by which Contades brought up the food for his army from Cassel, seventy miles to the south. Such a movement would compel the French either to fight or to fall back. It was a bold move and, had it not succeeded, would have been deemed a rash one; for it left him with but thirty-six thousand men to face the greatly superior force of the French.
The bait proved too tempting for the French generals. It seemed to them that the duke had committed a fatal mistake. His left, leaning on the Weser was, by the march of the force to Gohfeld, left unsupported at a distance of three miles from the centre; and it seemed to them that they could now hurl themselves into the gap, destroy the duke's left, and then crush his centre and right, and cut off whatever remnant might escape from Hanover.
On Tuesday evening, July 1st, the French got into motion as soon as it was dark. During the night Contades crossed, by nineteen bridges that he had thrown across the Bastau; while at the same time Broglio crossed the Weser, by the bridge of the town, and took up his position facing the Prussian left wing, which rested on the village of Todtenhausen, intending to attack him early in the morning, and to finish before the duke could bring the centre to his assistance.
Feeling sure that the French would fall into the trap, the duke ordered his cavalry to mount at one o'clock in the morning, and moved in with his troops from the villages around which they were encamped; closing in towards Minden, whereby the centre gradually came into touch with the left, the whole forming a segment of a circle, of which Minden was the centre.
The French also formed a segment of a similar circle, nearer to Minden. Contades was a long time getting his troops into position, for great confusion was caused by their having crossed by so many bridges, and it took hours to range them in order of battle.
Broglio was in position, facing the duke's left, at five o'clock in the morning. He was strong in artillery and infantry; but as the ground on both flanks was unfavourable for the action of cavalry, these were all posted in the centre. The cavalry, indeed, was the strongest portion of the force. They numbered ten thousand, and were the flower of the French army.
The duke placed six regiments of British infantry in his centre. They were the 12th, 20th, 23rd, 25th, 37th and 51st. Some regiments of Hanoverians were in line behind them. The British cavalry were on the duke's right. The morning was misty, and it was not until eight o'clock that both sides were ready, and indeed even then Contades' infantry was not finally settled in its position.
The battle began with an attack by some Hessian regiments on the village of Hahlen, and by a very heavy fire of artillery on both sides. The orders to the English regiments had been, "March to attack the enemy on sound of drum," meaning that they were to move when the drums gave the signal for the advance. The English, however, understood the order to be, "You are to advance to the sound of your drums." They waited for a time, while the attack on Hahlen continued. It was repulsed three times before it succeeded, but before this happened the English regiments lost patience, and said, "We ought to be moving." The drums therefore struck up and, to the astonishment of the Hanoverians, these English battalions strode away towards the enemy. However, the regiments of the second line followed.
As the British stepped forward, a tremendous crossfire of artillery opened upon them, thirty guns on one side and as many on the other; but in spite of this the six regiments pressed on unfalteringly, with their drums beating lustily behind them. Then there was a movement in their front, and a mighty mass of French cavalry poured down upon them. The English halted, closed up the gaps made by the artillery, held their fire until the leading squadrons of the French were within forty paces, and then opened a tremendous file fire. Before it man and horse went down. At so short a distance every bullet found its billet and, for the first time in history, a line of infantry repulsed the attack of a vastly superior body of cavalry.
Astonished, and hampered by the fallen men and horses of their first line, the French cavalry reined up and trotted sullenly back to reform and repeat the charge. The British drums beat furiously as the French rode forward again, only to be repulsed as before. Six times did the cavalry, with a bravery worthy of their reputation, renew the charge. Six times did they draw back sullenly, as the leading squadrons withered up under the storm of shot. Then they could do no more, but rode back in a broken and confused mass through the gaps between their infantry, throwing these also into partial confusion.
"Ride to Lord Sackville, and tell him to charge with his cavalry, at once," the duke said to Fergus; and then checking himself said, "No, I had better send someone else," and repeated the order to another of his staff.
Sackville only replied that he did not see his way to doing so. A second and then a third officer were sent to him, with a like result, and at last he himself left his cavalry and rode to the duke and inquired: "How am I to go on?"
The duke curbed his anger at seeing the fruits of victory lost. He replied quietly: "My lord, the opportunity is now past."
Harassed only by the fire of the British and Hanoverian guns, and by that of the British infantry, Contades drew off his army by the nineteen bridges into his stronghold. Broglio, who had done nothing save keep up a cannonade, covered the retreat with his division. The total amount of loss on the duke's side was two thousand eight hundred and twenty-two, of which more than half belonged to the British infantry. The French loss was seven thousand and eighty-six, with their heavy guns and many flags; but had Sackville done his duty, their army would have been annihilated, pent up as it was with the river on each flank, convergent to each other at Minden; a perfect rat trap from which no army could have escaped, had it been hotly pressed by cavalry.
The feat performed by the British infantry astonished Europe, who were at first almost incredulous that six regiments in line could have repulsed, over and over again, and finally driven off the field, ten thousand of the best cavalry of France.
While the battle was raging, the Hereditary Prince had done his share of the work, had fallen upon Gohfeld, crushed the French division guarding it, cutting the French from their magazines and rendering their position untenable. They received the news that evening, and at once commenced their retreat, Broglio towards Frankfort and Contades straight for the Rhine. The latter was obliged to abandon all his baggage, and many of his guns; and his army, by the time it had reached the Rhine, had become a mere rabble. The general was at once recalled in disgrace, and Broglio appointed commander-in-chief; although by failing to carry out the orders he had received, to fall upon the allies left at five in the morning, he had largely contributed to the defeat that had befallen Contades.
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{
"id": "19714"
}
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17
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: Unexpected News.
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The fury of the British cavalry, at the shameful inactivity in which they had been maintained, was unbounded; and their commander, if he moved from his tent, was saluted with hisses and jeers by the troopers. It was not for long, however; for as soon as the news was known at home, he was ordered to return. On the afternoon of the same day, an officer rode over to headquarters and asked for Major Drummond.
"I am here, sir," he said courteously, "on behalf of Lord Sackville. He will be leaving for England tomorrow, and I am the bearer of a hostile message from him. I shall be obliged if you will put me in communication with some officer who will act on your behalf."
"Certainly," Fergus replied. "I was expecting such a message."
He had already heard of the order that Sackville had received; and had requested Major Kurstad, a fellow aide-de-camp, to act for him should he send him a hostile message. Going in he spoke to Kurstad, who at once went out and introduced himself to the British officer.
"This is a painful business," the latter said, "and I can assure you that I do not undertake it willingly. However, I overheard the altercation between Lord Sackville and Major Drummond, and the same night he asked me to act for him, when the time for it came. I consented, and cannot draw back from the undertaking; but I need hardly say that, after what happened at Minden, no English officer, unless previously pledged, would have consented to act for him. I suppose, sir, there is no use in asking whether the matter cannot be arranged."
"Not in the slightest. Major Drummond told me that he had expressed his willingness to meet the general, and he is certainly not one to withdraw from his word. My friend chooses swords. In fact the use of pistols, on such occasions, is quite unknown in the Continental army."
"As Lord Sackville leaves tomorrow morning, we should be glad if you would name an early hour."
"As early as you like. It is light at half-past four."
"Then shall we say five o'clock?"
"Certainly."
"And the place?"
"There is a small clump of trees on the heath, two miles west of our camp."
"We will be there at that time, sir. Would you object to each side being accompanied by a second friend? I ask it because, did anything happen to my principal, I should certainly wish that another witness was present at the duel."
"We have no objection," Major Kurstad said. "We shall also bring a surgeon with us, and of course you can do the same, if you are disposed."
The two officers saluted, and the major returned to Fergus.
"Do you mean to kill him?" he asked, after he had told him of the arrangements that had been made.
"Certainly not. The man is an overbearing fool, and I merely wish to give him a lesson. Personally, I should be glad if the whole of the officers of the British force could be present, in order that he might be as much humiliated as possible; but even if I hated the man--and I have no shadow of feeling of that kind--I would not kill him. He is going home to England to be tried by court martial, and its sentence is likely to be a far heavier blow, to a bully of that kind, than death would be. He has a taste of it already, for I hear that he is hooted whenever he leaves his tent."
At the appointed time the two parties arrived, almost at the same moment, at a spot arranged. Fergus was accompanied by Major Kurstad and another officer of the duke's staff, and by the duke's own surgeon. Formal salutations were exchanged between the seconds. The duelling swords were examined, and found to be of the same length. There was no difficulty in choosing the ground, as there was an open space in the centre of the little wood, and the sun had not risen high enough to overtop the trees. As, therefore, the glade was in shade, there was no advantage, in point of light, to either combatant.
Lord Sackville had the reputation of being a good fencer, but in point of physique there was no comparison between the combatants. Sackville was a tall and powerfully-built man, but dissipation and good living had rendered his muscles flabby and sapped his strength, although he was still in what should have been his prime. Fergus, on the other hand, had not a superfluous ounce of flesh. Constant exercise had hardened every muscle. He was a picture of health and activity.
The general viewed him with an expression of vindictive animosity; while his face, on the other hand, wore an expression of perfect indifference. The uniform coats were removed, and the dropping of a handkerchief gave the signal for them to commence.
Lord Sackville at once lunged furiously. The thrust was parried, and the next moment his sword was sent flying through the air. His second did not move to recover it.
"Why do you not bring it here?" Sackville exclaimed, in a tone of the deepest passion.
"Because, my lord," his second said coldly, "as you have been disarmed, the duel necessarily terminates; unless your antagonist is willing that the sword shall be restored to you."
"I shall be obliged if you will give it him, Major Buck," Fergus said quietly. "A little accident of this sort may occur occasionally, even to a noted swordsman, when fighting with a boy."
The general was purple with passion, when he received the sword from his second.
"Mind this time," he said between his teeth as, after a preliminary feint or two, he again lunged.
Again the sword was wrenched from his hand, with a force that elicited an exclamation of pain from him.
"Pray, give the general his sword again, Major Buck," Fergus said.
"You hold your rapier too tightly, General Sackville. You need a little more freedom of play, and less impetuosity. I don't want to hurt you seriously, but your blood is altogether too hot, and next time I will bleed you on the sword arm."
Steadying himself with a great effort, Sackville played cautiously for a time; but after parrying several of his thrusts, without the slightest difficulty, Fergus ran him through the right arm, halfway between the elbow and the shoulder, and the sword dropped from his hand.
[Illustration: Lord Sackville stood without speaking, while the surgeon bandaged up his arm] Lord George Sackville had borne himself well in several duels, and was accounted a gentleman, though arrogant and overbearing. He stood without speaking, while the surgeon bandaged up his arm. Then he said quietly: "I ask your pardon, Major Drummond. This matter was altogether my fault. I said that I would give you a lesson, and you have given me one, which assuredly I shall never forget. I trust that you will accept my apology for the words I uttered."
"Certainly, general, the more so that I own I gave provocation by failing to salute you--my only excuse for which is that officers of the highest rank, in Prussia, always return the salute of a junior officer, of whatever rank; and that I did not reflect that you, having many important matters in your mind, might have neglected to return mine from pure absent mindedness, and not with any intentional discourtesy. I can only say that I have not spoken of this matter to any but my three friends here, and I am sure that the matter will not be mentioned by them, when it is my earnest request that it shall go no further."
The parties then mutually saluted, and rode off to their respective camps. The story of the duel did not leak out from Fergus's friends; but Sackville had openly spoken of the matter, the evening before, to several officers; and had added to their disgust at his conduct by declaring that he wished it had been the Duke of Brunswick, instead of this upstart aide-de-camp of his, with whom he had to reckon the next morning. He, on his part, exacted no pledge from the officers who had accompanied him, but rode back to camp without speaking a word, and an hour later left in a carriage for Bremen.
The news of the encounter, then, circulated rapidly, and excited intense amusement, and the most lively satisfaction, on the part of the British officers.
On Sackville's arrival in England he was tried by court martial, sentenced to be cashiered, and declared incapable of again serving his majesty in any military capacity. This the king proclaimed officially to be a sentence worse than death and, taking a pen, he himself struck out his name from the list of privy councillors.
No satisfactory explanation has ever been given of Sackville's conduct at Minden. Many say it is probable that he was disgusted and sulky at having to rise so early, but this would hardly be a sufficient explanation. The more probable conjecture is that, as he was on notoriously bad terms with the duke, he was willing that the latter should suffer a severe repulse at Minden, in the hope that he would be deprived of his command, and he himself appointed commander-in-chief of the allied army.
A few days after the battle, the exultation caused by the victory at Minden was dashed by the news that a Prussian army, twenty-six thousand strong, commanded by Wedel, had been beaten by the Russians at Zuellichau; and ten days later by the still more crushing news that Frederick himself, with fifty thousand men, had been completely defeated by a Russian and Austrian army, ninety thousand in number, at Kunersdorf, on the 11th of August.
At first the Prussians had beaten back the Russians with great loss. The latter had rallied, and, joined by Loudon with the Austrian divisions, had recovered the ground and beaten off the Prussians with immense loss, the defeat being chiefly due to the fact that the Prussian army had marched to the attack through woods intersected with many streams; and that, instead of arriving on the field of battle as a whole, they only came up at long intervals, so that the first success could not be followed up, and the regiments who made it were annihilated before help came.
The news came from Berlin. A letter had been received there from the king, written on the night after the battle. He said that he had but three thousand men collected round him, that the circumstances were desperate, that he appointed his brother Prince Henry general-in-chief, and that the army was to swear fidelity to his nephew. The letter was understood to mean that Frederick intended to put an end to his life. He knew that the enmity of his foes was largely directed against him personally, and that far easier terms might be obtained for the country were he out of the way; and he was therefore determined not to survive irreparable defeat. Indeed, he always carried a small tube of deadly poison on his person.
Universal consternation was felt at the news. However, three days later came the more cheering intelligence that twenty-three thousand men had now gathered round him, and that he had again taken the command. The loss in the battle, however, had been terrible--six thousand had been killed, thirteen thousand wounded. Two thousand of the latter, too seriously wounded to escape, were made prisoners. The loss of the enemy had been little inferior, for eighteen thousand Russians and Austrians were killed or wounded.
Another letter sent off by the king that night had disastrous consequences, for he wrote to the governor of Dresden that, should the Austrians attempt anything on the town beyond his means of maintaining himself, he was to capitulate on the best terms he could obtain.
Happily for Frederick, Soltikoff was as slow in his movements as Daun, and for two months made no attempt to take advantage of the victory of Kunersdorf, and thus afforded time to Frederick to repair his misfortunes. But during the two months Dresden had been lost. Its governor had received Frederick's letter, and was unaware how things had mended after it was written, and that a force was pressing forward to aid him against an Austrian besieging army. Consequently, after little more than a nominal resistance, he surrendered when, unknown to him, relief was close at hand.
The French being defeated, and in full flight for the Rhine, it seemed to Fergus that it was his duty to return to the king; as there was no probability whatever of any hard fighting on the western frontier, while the position of affairs in the east was most serious. He was still on the king's staff, and had but been lent to the Duke of Brunswick. He laid the matter before the latter, who at once agreed with him that he should rejoin the king.
"Frederick sorely needs active and intelligent officers, at present," he said. "It is not by force that he can hope to prevent the Russians and Austrians from marching to Berlin, but by quickness and resource. His opponents are both slow and deliberate in their movements, and the king's quickness puzzles and confuses them. It is always difficult for two armies to act in perfect concert, well-nigh impossible when they are of different nationalities. Daun will wait for Soltikoff and Soltikoff for Daun. The king will harass both of them. Daun has to keep one eye upon his magazines in Bohemia, for Prince Henry in Silesia still constantly menaces them, and not only the Austrian but the Russian army is fed from Prague.
"Were it not that I am specially bound to defend Hanover from the Confederate army, I would march with the greater portion of my force to join the king; but my orders are imperative. 'Tis for Hanover that George of England is fighting, and the British subsidy and the British troops will be lost to the king, were Hanover to be taken by the enemy. If Prince Henry could but join him, it would bring his army again to a strength with which he could fight either the Russians or Austrians; but their armies lie between Henry and the king, and unless Daun makes some grievous mistake--and slow as he is, Daun seldom makes a mistake--it seems well-nigh impossible that the prince can get through.
"However, Major Drummond, you are likely to see little fighting here; while with the king there will be incessant work for you. Therefore, by all means go to him. He must have lost many of his staff at Kunersdorf, and will, I doubt not, be glad to have you with him."
The ride was a shorter one than it had been when going west, for the king lay little more than fifty miles to the east of Berlin. Although there was no absolute occasion for great speed, Fergus rode fast; and on the tenth day after leaving Minden arrived at the royal camp. The king was unaffectedly glad to see him.
"You have been more fortunate than I have," he said. "You have been taking part in a victory, while I have been suffering a defeat. I should like to have seen Minden. That charge of your countrymen was superb. Nothing finer was ever done. Rash, perhaps; but it is by rashness that victory is often won. Had it not been done, one would have said that it was impossible for six battalions in line to hurl back, again and again, the charges of ten thousand fine cavalry. But the British division at Fontenoy showed us, not many years ago, that the British infantry, now, are as good as they were under Marlborough. I would give much if I had twenty thousand of them here with my Prussians. It would be the saving of us.
"Did Ferdinand send you back, or did you ask to come?"
"I asked leave to come, sire. I thought that your staff must have suffered heavily, and that I might be more useful here than with the duke."
"Much more useful, major; and indeed, I am glad to have you with me. You have youth and good spirits, and good spirits are very scarce here. Have you heard the last news?"
"I have heard no news since I left Berlin, sire."
"Dresden is lost. Schmettau surrendered it, and that when relief was but within ten miles of him. The place should have held out for a month, at least. It is incredible. However, I will have it back again before long and, at any rate, it is one place less to guard. I should not have cared so much if the Austrians had taken it, but that that wretched Confederate army, even though they had ten Austrian battalions with them, should have snatched it from me, is heart breaking. However, they have but the capital, and it will take them some time before they can do more."
Fink, who had been sent off, with six or seven thousand men, to aid Wunsch to relieve Dresden, on the day before the news of its fall came, did much. He and his fellow commander failed in their first object; but they were not idle, for they recaptured Leipzig and other towns that the Confederate army had taken, and snatched all Saxony, save Dresden, from its clutches.
Schmettau was relieved of his command, and never again employed. He had certainly failed in firmness, but Frederick's own letter to him, which had never been cancelled, afforded him the strongest ground of believing that there was no chance of his being relieved. His record up to this time had been excellent, and he was esteemed as being one of Frederick's best generals. Frederick's harshness to him was, at the time, considered to have been excessive. The king, however, always expected from his generals as much as he himself would have accomplished, in the same circumstances, and failure to obtain success was always punished. After the dismissal of his brother and heir from his command, the king was not likely to forgive failure in others.
The time was a most anxious one for him. He had nothing to do but to wait, and for once he was well content to do so; for every day brought winter nearer, every week would render the victualling of the hostile armies more difficult, and delay was therefore all in his favour. Messenger after messenger was sent to Prince Henry, urging him to make every possible effort to make his way through or round the cordon of Austrian and Russian posts, eighty miles long and fifty or sixty broad, that intervened between them.
In the evenings the king was accustomed to put aside resolutely his military troubles, and passed his time chiefly in the society of the British ambassador, Earl Marischal Keith, and the young Scottish aide-de-camp, with occasionally one or two Prussian officers. One evening, when Fergus had been sent with an order to a portion of the force lying some miles away, Sir John Mitchell said to the king: "I have been talking with the Earl Marischal over young Drummond's affairs, your majesty. As you know, his father's estates were sequestrated after the battle of Culloden, where he himself fell. I am writing a despatch to Pitt, saying that Drummond's son has been serving under your majesty through the war, and has greatly distinguished himself; and have asked him to annul the sequestration, upon the ground that this young officer has done very valiant service to your majesty, and so to the allied cause, giving a list of the battles at which he has been present, and saying that the Duke of Brunswick had, in his report of the battle of Minden to you, spoken highly of the services he rendered him. If you would add a line in your own hand, endorsing my request, it would greatly add to its weight."
"That I will readily do," the king said. "I will write a short letter, which you can inclose in your own despatch."
And sitting down at once he wrote: "The King of Prussia most warmly endorses the request of his excellency, Sir John Mitchell. Not only has Major Fergus Drummond shown exceptional bravery upon several occasions, which resulted in his promotion to the rank of major with unprecedented rapidity, but he saved the king's life at the battle of Zorndorf, meeting and overthrowing three Russian cavalrymen who attacked him. It would, therefore, give the king very great satisfaction if the English minister would grant the request made on Major Drummond's behalf by his excellency, the English ambassador."
"Thank you very much," the latter said, as he read the note Frederick handed him. "I have no doubt that this will be effectual. Culloden is now a thing of the past. There are many Scottish regiments in the English king's service, and many acts of clemency have, of late, been shown to those who took part in the rebellion, and I cannot doubt that Pitt will at once act upon your request. However, I shall say nothing to Drummond on the subject until I hear that his father's estates have been restored to him."
As day after day passed, the king became more anxious as to the position of Prince Henry. That energetic officer had indeed been busy and, by threatening an attack upon Daun's magazines, had compelled the Austrian commander to move to Bautzen for their protection, and finally to make a decided effort to crush his active and annoying foe. Gathering a great force in the neighbourhood of Prince Henry's camp, he prepared to attack him on the morning of September 22nd; but when morning came Prince Henry had disappeared. At eight o'clock on the previous evening he had marched twenty miles to Rothenburg.
The retreat was superbly conducted. It was necessary to move by several roads, but the whole of the baggage, artillery, and troops arrived punctually the next morning at Rothenburg, just at the hour when Daun's army moved down to the attack of the camp where he had been the evening before. Austrian scouting parties were sent out in all directions, but no certain news could be obtained as to the direction of the Prussian march. The baggage waggons had been seen, moving here and there, but it was four days before Daun was able to learn for certain what had become of him, having until then believed that he must have made for Glogau, to join Frederick.
Henry had, however, gone in an entirely different direction. After ordering three hours' rest at Rothenburg he marched west, and arrived at early morning at Klitten, eighteen miles from his last halting place. Starting again after another three hours' halt he marched twenty miles farther, still straight to the west, and fell upon General Weyler who, with thirty-three thousand men, occupied the last Austrian position to be passed.
That officer had not the slightest idea of any possibility of attack from the east. The whole Austrian army stood between him and Frederick on the northeast, and Prince Henry on the southeast. He was therefore taken altogether by surprise. Six hundred of his men were killed; and he himself, with twenty-eight field officers and seventeen hundred and eighty-five other officers and men, taken prisoners.
This march of fifty hours, in which an army with the whole of its baggage traversed fifty-eight miles, through a country occupied by enemies, is one of the most remarkable on record, and completely changed the whole situation of the campaign. There was nothing for Daun to do, if he would not lose Dresden and the whole of Saxony again, but to follow Prince Henry. This movement completed the dissatisfaction of his Russian ally, Soltikoff, who had been already sorely worried and harassed by Frederick, ever since Daun had moved away to defend his magazines and crush Prince Henry; and now, seeing that his own food supply was likely to fail him, he marched away with his army into Poland.
The king was at this time, to his disgust and indignation, laid up for six weeks with the gout; but as soon as he was better, he set off to join Prince Henry. Daun was slowly falling back and, had he been let alone, Dresden might have been recaptured and the campaign come to a triumphant ending.
Unfortunately Frederick was not content to leave well alone, and sent Fink with seventeen thousand men to Maxim, to cut off Daun's retreat into Bohemia; intending himself to attack him in front. Daun for once acted with decision, attacked Fink with twenty-seven thousand men and, although the Prussians fought with most obstinate bravery, they were surrounded; battered by the Austrian artillery; while they themselves, having no guns with which to make reply, were forced to surrender. Some had already made their way off, but in killed, wounded, and prisoners, the loss was fully twelve thousand men.
Frederick threw the blame upon Fink, but most unjustly. That officer had followed out the orders given him, and had done all that man could do to hold the position that he was commanded to take up, and the disaster was wholly due to Frederick's own rashness in placing so small a force, and that without artillery, where they could be attacked by the whole Austrian army. Fink, after his release at the conclusion of the peace three years later, was tried by court martial and sentenced to a year's imprisonment.
This disaster entirely altered the situation. Daun, instead of continuing his retreat to Bavaria, advanced to occupy Saxony; and drove General Dierocke across the Elbe, taking fifteen hundred of his men prisoners. Frederick, however, barred the way farther, and six weeks later both armies went into winter quarters; Daun still holding Dresden and the strip of country between it and Bohemia, but the rest of Saxony being as far out of his reach as ever.
The last six weeks of the campaign was a terrible time for all. Frederick himself had lived in a little cottage in the small town of Freyburg, and even after the armies had settled down in their cheerless quarters, he still made several attempts to drive the Austrians out, having received a reinforcement of ten thousand men from Duke Ferdinand. These efforts were in vain.
The ten thousand, however, on their way to join the king, had struck a heavy blow at one of his bitterest enemies, the Duke of Wuertemberg, who had twelve thousand of his own men, with one thousand cavalry, at Fulda. The duke had ordered a grand ball to be held, and great celebrations of joy at the news of the Austrian victory at Maxim; but on the very day on which these things were to take place, Ferdinand's men fell upon him suddenly, scattered his army in all directions, took twelve hundred prisoners, and sent the duke with such of his troops as had escaped back to Wuertemberg again; his subjects, who were largely Protestants, rejoicing hugely over his discomfiture.
On the day on which Maxim was fought Admiral Hawke, with a small squadron, utterly defeated the French fleet that was to convey an invading army to England. France herself was getting as short of cash as Prussia, and in November it became necessary to declare a temporary bankruptcy and, the king setting the example, all nobles and others possessing silver plate sent them to the mint to be coined into money.
So eager was the king to take advantage of any openings the Austrians might give for attack that, although so near Dresden, Fergus was unable to carry out his promise to the Count Eulenfurst to pay him a visit; for he was kept constantly employed, and could not ask for leave. Early in April the king sent for him. The English ambassador was present, but Earl Marischal Keith had gone away on a mission.
"I have two pieces of news for you, major," the king said pleasantly. "In the first place, it is now getting on for two years since you did me that little service at Zorndorf, and since then you have ever been zealously at work. Others have gone up in rank, and it is time that you had another step. Therefore, from today you are colonel. No man in the army has better deserved promotion, and indeed you ought to have had it after you returned from Brunswick's army where, as the duke's despatches told me, you had rendered excellent service. So many officers of rank have fallen since then that promotion has been rapid, and it is high time that you obtained the step that you so well deserve.
"The other piece of news is for Sir John Mitchell to tell you, for it is to his good offices that it is due."
"Very partially so, your majesty," said the ambassador. "It is like enough that Pitt would not have troubled to take action on my recommendation only, had it not been that you so strongly backed my request that, in fact, it became one from yourself. Therefore it is for you to give him the news."
"As you please," the king said.
"Well then, Drummond, his excellency and your cousin the Marischal put their heads together, and his excellency sent a warm letter to the English minister, saying that you had rendered such services to his sovereign's ally that he prayed that the sequestration of your father's estates should be annulled. I myself added a memorandum saying that, as you had saved my life at Zorndorf, and rendered me other valuable services, I should view it as a personal favour if his request was granted. The thing would have been managed in a couple of days, in this country; but in England it seems that matters move more slowly, and his excellency has only today received an official intimation that the affair has been completed, and that your father's estates have been restored to you."
Fergus was, for the moment, completely overwhelmed. He had never thought for a moment that the estate would ever be restored, and the sudden news, following that of his promotion, completely overwhelmed him.
It was of his mother rather than of himself that he thought. He himself had been too young to feel keenly the change in their life that followed Culloden; but although his mother had borne her reverses bravely, and he had never heard a complaint or even a regret cross her lips, he knew that the thought that he would never be chief of their brave clansmen, and that these had no longer a natural leader and protector, was very bitter to her.
"Your majesty is too good.
"Your excellency--" and he stopped.
"I know what you would say," the king said kindly, "and there is no occasion to say it. I have only paid some of the debt I owe you, and his excellency's thought gave me well-nigh as much pleasure as it does you. Now, be off to your camp.
"You see, Sir John, between us we have done what the Austrians and Russians have never managed between them--I mean, we have shaken Colonel Drummond's presence of mind.
"There, go along with you, we have matters to talk over together."
Fergus saluted almost mechanically, bowed gratefully to Mitchell, and then left the room in a whirl of emotion. To be the head of his clan again was, to him, a vastly greater matter than to be a colonel in even the most renowned and valiant army in Europe. Of the estates he thought for the moment but little, except that his mother would now be able to give up her petty economies and her straitened life, and to take up the station that had been hers until his father's death.
There was another thought, too--that of Countess Thirza Eulenfurst. Hitherto he had resolutely put that from him. It was not for him, a soldier of fortune, without a penny beyond his pay, to aspire to the hand of a rich heiress. It was true that many Scottish adventurers in foreign services had so married, but this had seemed a thing altogether beyond him. He had rendered a service to her father, and they had, in consequence, been most kind to him; but he had thought that it would be only a poor return for their kindness for him to aspire to their daughter's hand.
He had put the matter even more resolutely aside because, once or twice, the count had said things that might be construed as hints that he should not regard such an act as presumptuous. He had spoken not unapprovingly of the marriages of ladies of high rank to men who had rendered great services to the countries for which they had fought, and said that, with such ample means as Thirza would possess, there would be no need for him to seek for a wealthy match for her. Thirza herself had evinced lively pleasure, whenever he went to see them, and deep regret when he left them; while her colour rose, sometimes, when he came upon her suddenly. But these indications that he was not altogether indifferent to her had but determined him, more resolutely, to abstain from taking advantage of the gratitude she felt for the service he had rendered.
Now, it seemed to him that the news he had heard had somewhat changed the position. He was no longer a penniless soldier. It was true that the Drummond estates were as nothing by the side of the broad lands owned by her father; but at least, now, he was in the position of a Scottish gentleman of fair means and good standing, who could dispense with wealth on the part of a bride, and had a fair home and every comfort to offer to one in his native land. That he had, too, obtained the rank of colonel in the Prussian army, by service in many a desperate battle, distinctly added to his position. Thus, in every respect, the news that he had received was in the highest degree gratifying to him.
|
{
"id": "19714"
}
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18
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: Engaged.
|
On the following day, Sir John Mitchell handed to Fergus the official documents respecting the restoration of the estates and, after taking copies of the same, Fergus wrote a long letter to his mother, inclosing the official papers, Mitchell having offered to send the packet home with his despatches. Fergus was glad to get the documents sent off in this way--by which, indeed, he had sent the greater part of his letters to his mother--the post being so uncertain and insecure that there was no trusting it; and although his mother's replies were always sent to the care of the ambassador, a large number of them were lost in the transit.
Early in April Fergus suddenly broke down. His work had been almost incessant. The cold in the tent had, at night, been extreme; and, having been wetted to the skin one day, when a sudden thaw came on, his clothes had been frozen stiff when, at nightfall, the frost returned with even greater severity than before. In spite of the cloaks and blankets that Karl heaped upon his bed, he shivered all night, and in the morning hot fits came on. The king's surgeon, coming in to see him, pronounced that the chill had resulted in what was probably rheumatic fever.
He was at once carried to a hospital, some miles in the rear. This was crowded with officers and men, suffering from the effects of their hardships; but a room was assigned to him in a house close by, that had been taken for the use of officers of distinction.
Here for two months he lay helpless, and at times delirious. Karl sat up with him almost night and day, taking two or three hours' sleep occasionally on the floor, but starting up whenever his master moved or spoke. Sir John Mitchell rode over several times to see him, and the king's own surgeon went over twice a week. These visits, however, both ceased three weeks after he entered the hospital, the king's army having rapidly marched away.
At the end of June he was out and able to sit in the sun in the garden.
"How long shall I be before I am fit for duty again?" he asked the surgeon, two days later.
"Six weeks or two months. It will be fully that time before you can regain your strength. In a month, no doubt, you will be able to sit a horse; but I should say that it would be quite twice that time, before you will be fit to perform the work that falls to your lot on the king's staff. You want to have quiet, and at the same time you need pleasant company. The worst thing you can possibly do is to worry and fret yourself. Instead of bringing things about sooner, it will only delay them. What you have to do is to bask in the sun, eat and drink as much as you can, and take life pleasantly.
"There is one thing, you have nothing to grieve about that you are not with the king. He is marching hither and thither with wonderful celerity but, do what he will, he cannot induce either Daun or Lacy to give battle; though together they are three to one against him. Whenever he approaches they simply shut themselves up in impregnable places, erect palisades and batteries, and hope that he will dash himself against them; which he is not likely to do."
Fergus found that Frederick, when he marched, had left behind a force sufficient to check any attempt that the Austrian garrison of Dresden might make, towards the north; but that at present all was quiet, the enemy venturing on no aggressive movements, never knowing when the king might suddenly pounce down upon them. He found that there was no attempt made to blockade the town. No carts with provisions were allowed to pass in from the north side, but on the west there was free ingress and egress, there being no Prussian troops in that direction. Fergus therefore hired a peasant to carry a letter for him to Count Eulenfurst, explaining how it was that he had been unable to get leave during the winter; and that, for the last two months and a half, he had been laid up in the hospital.
Three days later a carriage drove up to the house. The count himself leapt out, and hurried across the garden to where Fergus was sitting.
"This is indeed kind of you, count," Fergus said, as he rose.
"By no means, Drummond. I only wish that we had known your situation before. You should have got someone to write, if you could not do it yourself. We were not surprised at your not visiting us in the winter, for with both armies on the alert we knew that, in the first place, you were busy, and probably not able to get leave of absence; and in the next place, you could hardly have got in.
"You can imagine the concern we felt when your letter reached us, yesterday evening. Of course, I determined to start at once. You must indeed have had a hard time of it, for you have fallen away so much that I should hardly have known you."
"I have picked up very much in the last fortnight, count; and I hope, in another month, to be something like myself again; though the doctor insists that I shall not be fit for campaigning work for double that time."
"Well, I have come to take you back with me. The countess asks me to tell you that if you do not come at once, she will drive hither with two or three of her maids, and establish herself as your nurse. It will not be a very long drive, for I am well known to the Austrians, and have a pass from the governor to go through their lines when I please, and to visit a small estate I have, thirty miles to the north. And no doubt you can get a similar pass for us to leave your lines."
"I should like nothing so much, count; but might I not get you into trouble, if it were known that you had one of the king's officers at your house?"
"In the first place no one would know it, and in the second place I don't think that I should get into any trouble, were it found out. It is not a Prussian officer that I shall be entertaining, still less a spy, but a dear friend who is an invalid and needs care. As everyone knows what you did for me, the excuse would be ample.
"Moreover, it happens that Governor Maguire is a personal friend of mine, and I shall call upon him and tell him that I have a sick friend staying with me and, without letting him know who you are, say that I give him my word of honour that you will, while with me, remain in the grounds, and will make no inquiries concerning his fortifications and plans of defence. He will understand what I mean, and if anyone should make a report to him it will, at any rate, cause no trouble; though I do not say that he might not feel obliged to give me notice that you had best go.
"Well, for today I will remain here and rest my horses; and tomorrow morning we will start, early.
"Ah! I see you have your henchman still with you. He, like yourself, has escaped both Austrian and French bullets.
"Well, Karl," he went on as the soldier came up, "you don't seem to have managed to keep your master out of mischief."
"No, count; but it was not my fault. It was the fault of those horses you gave him."
"Why, how was that, Karl?"
"Well, sir, the colonel was the best mounted man on the king's staff and, however hard he worked the horses, they always seemed to keep in good condition. So that whenever there was anything to be done, it was sure to be, 'Colonel Drummond, please go here or go there.' He was always on horseback, and so at last he broke down. Anyone else would have broken down months before, but he never seemed to know what it was to be tired."
"What, have you got another step, Drummond?" the count said, smiling at the soldier's tone of discontent.
"Yes, count. It is not for anything particular this time, but for what I may call general services.
"You are going to have an easy time of it now, Karl. Count Eulenfurst is kindly going to take me off and nurse me for a bit; and you will have to stay here and look after the horses, until I return. It would not be safe for you to accompany me, and I think you want a rest as much as I want nursing.
"Why, for two months, count, this good fellow never took off his coat; and I don't think he ever slept an hour at a time. I have never once called when he was not there to answer."
"I did what I could," Karl growled, "but it was not much. The colonel has always looked well after me, and the least I could do was to look after him, when he wanted it.
"I am very glad he is going with you, sir. It is dull enough for him here; and I am sure he will get on much faster, under your care and the ladies', than he would do moping about in this place."
Fergus wrote a note to the general of the division, and Karl returned with a pass authorizing Count Eulenfurst's carriage to pass through the lines, at any time.
"There is one difficulty I have not thought of, count. I have no civilian clothes. Those I brought with me were left in the magazine at Dresden, when I first marched away; and there they have been, ever since. But indeed, even if I had them, I do not think that they would fit me; seeing that I have grown some four inches in height since I came out, and at least as much more round my shoulders."
"I thought of that," the count said, "and have brought with me a suit from Dresden that will, I think, fit you as well as an invalid's clothes can be expected to fit."
The next morning an early start was made. No difficulties were encountered on the way and, although sundry detours had to be made, they reached the count's house after a three-hours' drive. Thirza ran down to meet them as the count drove up; and she gave a little cry of surprise, and pity, as the count helped Fergus to alight.
"I shall soon be better, countess," he said with a smile, as he held out his hand. "I am quite a giant in strength, compared with what I was a fortnight ago; but just at present I am a little tired, after the drive."
"You look dreadfully bad," the girl said. "Still, I hope we shall soon bring you round again. My father said you would be back with him about this time, and we shall begin by giving you some soup, at once."
As they entered the hall, the countess herself came down.
"Welcome back again! I may say, I hope, welcome home again, Major Drummond!"
"Colonel Drummond," the count corrected. "He is one of Frederick's colonels now."
"I congratulate you," she went on, "though just at present, you certainly do not look a very formidable colonel. However, we will soon build you up; but don't try to talk now. I see the journey has been almost too much for you.
"In here, please. I thought you had better take something before you climbed the stairs."
A meal was laid, in a room leading off the hall; and after a basin of soup and a couple of glasses of Rhine wine, Fergus felt much better.
"That is right," the count said. "You have now got a tinge of colour in your cheeks.
"Come, Thirza, you must not look so woebegone, because our knight is pulled down a bit. Invalids want a cheerful face and, unless you brighten up, I shall not intrust any of the nursing duties to you."
Thirza tried to smile, but the attempt was a very forced one.
"It has been a surprise," she said quietly, but with an evident effort. "You see, I have always seen Colonel Drummond looking so strong and bright. Though I knew that he had been very ill, somehow I did not expect to see him like this."
"But I can assure you I am better," Fergus said, laughing. "I did feel done when we arrived, but I can assure you that is not my normal state; and being here among you all will very soon effect a transformation. In a very short time you will see that I shall refuse altogether to be treated as an invalid, and my nurse's post will be a sinecure."
"Now you had better go and lie down, and get a sleep for two or three hours," the countess said, decidedly. "You will have your old bedroom, and we have fitted up the next room as a sitting room. We know a good many of the Austrian and Confederate officers, and of an afternoon and evening they often drop in; and although we are not afraid of questions, it will be more pleasant for you to have a place of your own.
"Still, I hope you will be able to be out in the garden behind the house, the best part of the day, under the trees. You would be as safe from interruption, there, as if you were a hundred miles away from Dresden. We have arranged that Thirza shall have chief charge of you, out there; while the count and I will look after you while you are in the house."
Fergus obediently lay down and slept for some hours. As the countess had arranged, he rang his bell on waking and, hearing from the servant who answered it that there were no visitors downstairs, he went down. The count had gone out, but the countess and Thirza went out into the grounds with him; and he found that, in a quiet and shady corner, a sofa had been placed for his use, with a table and two or three chairs.
The countess remained chatting with him until a servant came out, to say that three Austrian officers had called; and she went in, leaving him to the charge of Thirza. For two or three hours they talked together, and were then joined by the count and countess; when Fergus told them the piece of good fortune that had befallen him, by recovering his father's estates. They were greatly pleased and interested.
"And are they extensive?" the count asked.
"They are extensive," he said, "if taken by acreage; but if calculated by the revenue that they bring in, they would seem small to you. But at any rate, they suffice to make one wealthy in Scotland. The large proportion of it is mountain and moorland; but as the head of my clan, I shall hold a position far above what is represented by the income. Two hundred men were ready to draw sword, at my father's orders, and to follow him in battle.
"I don't know that, here in Germany, you can quite understand the ties that bind the members of a clan to their head. They do not regard him as tenants regard a lord; but rather as a protector, a friend, and even a relation. All disputes are carried to him for arbitration. The finest trout from the stream, the fattest buck from the hills, are sent to him as an offering. They draw their swords at his bidding, and will die for him in battle. To them he is a sort of king, and they would obey his orders, were he to tell them to rise in rebellion.
"The feeling is to some extent dying out and, since Culloden, the power of the clans has greatly abated. Nevertheless, some of the Highland regiments in our army were raised by chiefs wholly from their own clansmen.
"In many respects this restoration of my inheritance changes my position altogether. As I told you the last time I was here, I shall stop until this terrible war is over. The king has been most kind and gracious to me, and to leave before the struggle is over I should feel to be an act of desertion. Once the sword is sheathed, I intend to return to Scotland; for I should not care to remain in the service, when there is nought but life in garrison to look forward to. Moreover, the strength of the army would, of course, be largely diminished, at once.
"What I should do afterwards, I know not. Perhaps I might obtain a commission in our own army, for there are always opportunities of seeing service in America, India, or elsewhere, under the British flag. More likely I shall, at any rate for a time, remain at home. My mother has no other child, and it is a lonely life, indeed, for her."
"Do you not think of settling here?"
"What is there for me to do, count, outside the army? I could not turn merchant, for I should assuredly be bankrupt, at the end of the first month; nor could I well turn cultivator, when I have no land to dig. Now, however, my future is determined for me; and a point that has, I own, troubled me much, has been decided without an effort on my part."
The conversation was continued for some little time, the count asking many questions about Fergus's ancestral home, the scenery, and mode of life. Fergus noticed that Thirza took no part in the conversation, but sat still; and looked, he thought, pale.
The days succeeded each other quietly and uneventfully, and Fergus gained strength rapidly; so that, in the middle of July, he began to feel that he was again fit for service. One evening he was sitting alone in the garden with the count, when the latter said to him: "You remember our conversation on the first evening of our coming here, as to the impossibility of your doing anything, did you remain out here after leaving the army. There was one solution to which you did not allude. Many Scottish and Irish soldiers, both in this country, in France, Austria, and Germany, have married well. Why should you not do the same?"
Fergus was silent for a minute, and then he said: "Yes, count; but they continued in the service, rose to the rank of generals and, as in the case of my cousin Keith, to that of marshal."
"But you might do the same, if you remained in the army," the count said. "You are assuredly, by far, the youngest colonel in it. You are a favourite of the king's, and might hope for anything."
"I am afraid, count, I have too much of our Scottish feeling of independence; and should not, therefore, like to owe everything to a wife."
"The feeling is creditable, if not carried too far," the count said. "You have a position that is a most honourable one. You have made your name famous in the army, where brave men are common. You possess the qualities of youth, a splendid physique, and--I don't wish to flatter you--a face that might win any woman's fancy. There are none, however placed, who might not be proud of such a son-in-law."
"You judge everyone by yourself, count," Fergus said slowly. "You overrate my qualities, and forget the fact that I am, after all, but a soldier of fortune."
"Then you never thought of such a thing?"
Fergus was silent for a minute, and then said: "We may think of many things, count, that we know, in our hearts, are but fancies which will never be realized."
"Let us suppose a case," the count said. "Let us take a case like mine. You did me an inestimable service. You certainly saved my life, and the lives of several others; including, perhaps, those of my wife and daughter. The latter has constantly heard your name associated with deeds of valour. Would it be improbable that she should feel a depth of gratitude that would, as she grew, increase into a warmer feeling; while you, on your part, might entertain a liking for her? Would it be such an out-of-the-way thing for you to come to me, and ask her hand? Or an out-of-the-way thing that I should gladly give her to you?"
"It may not seem so to you, count," Fergus said quietly; "but it has seemed so to me. I understand what you are so generously saying but, even with such encouragement, I can scarce dare to ask what seems to me so presumptuous a question. For four years, now, this house has been as a home to me; and it was but natural that, as your daughter grew up, I should have grown to love her. I have told myself, hundreds of times, that it would be, indeed, a base return for your kindness, were I to try to steal her heart; and never have I said a single word to her that I would not have said, aloud, had you and her mother been present. During the month that I have been here, now, I have struggled hard with myself; thrown with her, as I have been, for hours every day. But I have made up my mind that no word should ever pass my lips; and if it has done so, now, it is because you have drawn it from me."
"I am glad that I have done so," the count said, gravely. "For the last two years I have hoped that this might be so, for in no other way could I repay our debt of gratitude to you. I cannot tell what Thirza's thoughts are; but there have been three suitors for her hand this year, any of whom might well, in point of means and character, have been considered suitable; but when I spoke to her she laughed at the idea and, though she said nothing, I gathered that her love was already given.
"As my only child, her happiness is my first consideration. As to the question of means, it is absurd to mention them; for did she marry the wealthiest noble, she could desire no more than she will have. I told you, the first time you came to us after that terrible night, that we should always regard you as one of ourselves. We have done so; and I can assure you that her mother and I desire nothing better for her.
"For your sake, I am glad that you have come into this Scottish estate; but for my own I care nothing for it, and indeed, am in one respect sorry; for you will naturally wish that, for a part of the time each year, she should reside there with you.
"Now, that has not been so dreadful, has it?"
"Not in any way, count; and I thank you, with all my heart, for your kindness. My feeling for your daughter has grown up gradually, and it was not until I was last here that I recognized how much I cared for her. I then, when I went away, resolved it would be better for me not to return; at any rate, not to stay here again, until I heard that she was married. It is true that I talked of paying you a visit, even were Dresden captured; but I knew that when the time came I should be able to find excuses for not doing so. During the time that I was laid up with fever, she was ever in my mind; but the necessity for my remaining away from here only impressed itself, more and more strongly, upon me.
"Then you appeared, and carried me off. I could not refuse to come, without giving my reason; but I fully determined that in no way, by look or word, would I allow her to see that I regarded her other than as the daughter of my kind host. I have had a hard fight to keep that resolution, for each day my feelings have grown stronger and stronger; and I had resolved that, before I left, I would own to you, not my presumption, for I have not presumed, but my weakness, and ask you to press me no more to come here, until your daughter was married."
"You have acted just as I should have expected from you, Drummond. The great hope of the countess and myself has been to see Thirza happily married. Fortune or position in a suitor have been altogether immaterial points, excepting that we would assure ourselves that it was not to obtain these that her hand was sought. From the first we have regarded you, not only with gratitude, but with deep interest. It seemed to us only natural that, after so strange and romantic a beginning to your acquaintance, Thirza should regard you with more than ordinary interest. To her you would be a sort of hero of romance. We watched you closely then, and found that in addition to your bravery you possessed all the qualities that we could desire. You were modest, frank, and natural. So far from making much of the service you had rendered us, you were always unwilling to speak of it; and when that could not be avoided, you made as little of it as possible.
"I spoke several times of you to Marshal Keith, and he said that he regarded you almost as a son, and spoke in the highest terms of you. We saw, or fancied we saw, in the pleasure which Thirza betrayed when you returned after each of your absences; and in the anxiety which she evinced when battles had taken place, until I could ascertain that your name was not among the lists of killed and wounded; that what we had thought likely was taking place, and that she regarded you with an interest beyond that which would be excited by gratitude only.
"As to yourself, and your thoughts on the subject, we knew nothing. We never saw anything in your manner to her that showed that your heart was affected. You chatted with her as freely and naturally as to us and, even since you have been here this time, we have observed no change in you. And yet, it seemed to us well-nigh impossible that a young soldier should be thrown so much with a girl who, though it is her father who says so, is exceptionally pretty and of charming manners, and continue to regard her with indifference; unless, indeed, he loved elsewhere, which we were sure in your case could hardly be. I had however, like yourself, determined to speak on the matter before you left us; as, had you not felt towards her as we hoped, the countess and I agreed that it would be better, for her sake, that we should not press you to come to stay with us again until she was married.
"I am truly glad that the matter stands as we had hoped. I can only repeat that there is no one to whom we could intrust her happiness so confidently as to you."
"I will do my best to justify your confidence, count," Fergus said warmly.
"Now I will go into the house and tell my wife, and then we can acquaint Thirza. It is the custom here, at least among people of rank, for the parents first to acquaint their daughter with a proposal that has been made for her hand, and of their wishes on the subject. Parental control is not carried to the point, now, that it used to be; and maidens sometimes entertain different opinions to those of their parents. Happily, in the present case, there is no reason to fear that Thirza will exhibit any contumacy.
"Fortunately we are alone at dinner, today. Therefore do you come down, a quarter of an hour before the usual hour, and we will get the matter formally settled."
When Fergus went into the drawing room, the count was already there.
"Thirza shows no unwillingness to carry out our commands in this matter," he said with a smile, as he held out his hand to Fergus and shook it very heartily. "I pointed out to her that you would naturally expect her to accompany you every year to Scotland, and to spend some months among your people there. She did not seem to consider that any insupportable objection.
"In one respect, Fergus, I think that it is well for you that I am comparatively a young man; being now but forty-four, while the countess is six years younger; thus it may be a good many years before you will be called upon to assume the control of my estates, and the position of one of the great landowners of Saxony. One of these estates will, of course, be Thirza's dowry at once; but that will not tie you so much, and you will be freer to come and go as it pleases you."
Two or three minutes later the door opened, and the countess entered, leading Thirza by the hand. The girl advanced with downcast eyes, until her father stepped forward and took her left hand, while he held the right of Fergus.
"My daughter," he said, "your mother and I have chosen for your husband Colonel Fergus Drummond. We consider the match to be in all ways a suitable one. We esteem him highly, and are convinced that he will make you happy; loving you, as he says, tenderly and truly. In this room where you first saw him, I need not recall to you the services he rendered to us; and I exhort you to obey this our order, and to be a true and loving spouse to him."
The girl looked up now.
"That will I, father and mother, and most willingly; and will always, to my life's end, be a true and loving wife to him."
[Illustration: "Take her, Drummond, you have won your bride fairly and well"] "Take her, Colonel," the count said, putting her hand into that of Fergus. "You have won your bride fairly and well, and I know that you will be a worthy husband to her."
"That I swear to be," Fergus said, as he stooped and kissed her. "I feel how great is the boon that you have given me; and shall, to my life's end, be deeply thankful to you both for the confidence which you have placed in me, in thus intrusting her to my care.
"And to you, Thirza, do I swear to be a loving husband, to the end of my life."
"And now," the count said, "we will leave these young people till the bell rings," and taking the countess's hand, he led her into the next room.
The ten minutes that passed, before the signal for dinner was given, sufficed to do much to lessen the awkwardness of the occasion; and Fergus was heartily grateful to the count for having left them to themselves for that short time. The dinner passed off as usual, the count chatting gaily; while Fergus attempted, with indifferent success, to follow him. Thirza was very silent, but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes radiant with happiness.
It did not escape the attention of the servants who waited that instead of, as usual, leading down the countess while the count brought down his daughter; this time the count and his wife had come down first, followed by Fergus and the young countess. Nor were they slow to notice Thirza's flushed face.
The count's household had been deeply interested in the visits of Fergus. The women had always been unanimous in their opinion that they would all have been murdered by the marauders, had it not been for his interposition; and had also agreed that the most proper thing in the world, after what had happened, would be that the young countess should someday marry this brave young officer. Each time that he had come, during the last four years, they had watched and hoped that they should hear that this was coming about; but hitherto they had been terribly disappointed, and had almost agreed that, if nothing came of this long visit, nothing would ever come of it. The news, therefore, brought down by the menservants excited a lively interest.
"I said all along that it would be so some day," one of the women exclaimed. "The countess would never have allowed our young lady to be out in the garden, every afternoon, if she and the count had not been willing that there should be a match; and I am sure I don't see how he could help falling in love with the young countess."
"Nor she with him," another woman added. "He is the pleasantest-looking young gentleman I have ever seen, and we know that he is one of the bravest; and though he is a Prussian officer, there is not a bit of stiffness about him. Well, I only hope it is true."
"I would not count on it too much," one of the older women said. "You never can take menfolks' opinions on such matters. I am sure any of us would know with half an eye, if we saw them together, how matters stood; but as for men, they are as blind as bats in such matters. Still, the fact that he took the young countess down, instead of our lady, goes for something."
The next morning, indeed, the news was confirmed. The countess told her tire woman, who had been Thirza's nurse, what had happened; and in a few minutes it was known all over the house, and even the parties most concerned scarcely felt more pleasure than the women of the count's establishment.
|
{
"id": "19714"
}
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19
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: Liegnitz.
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"I have news," the count said, when he came in to lunch, after he had been down into the town; "a messenger has come in with a despatch this morning, saying that the king, with his army, is marching hither with all speed."
An exclamation of alarm broke from Thirza, and one of surprise from Fergus. They had been in the garden together all the morning.
"It will be but a day or two earlier," Fergus said in a low tone to her. "I told you that in three days, at the most, I must leave. The surgeon gave me six weeks, but I have so thoroughly recovered that I feel I ought to be with the king."
Then he raised his voice.
"That is startling news indeed, count; but I can hardly believe that he intends to besiege Dresden. He has no siege guns with him, and though, I suppose, he has as usual got a start of Daun, he can hardly hope to capture the city before the Austrians come up. At any rate, I must ride out and report myself, and join him as soon as he gets close. It is hard, indeed, at this moment. Still, there is no question but that it is my duty."
"I see that, and I am sure that Thirza would not wish to keep you from it. As long as you are a soldier, duty is the first thing. However, as the king is coming hither, we shall doubtless see you sometimes. As we are half a mile outside the walls, we shall be within the besieging lines."
"I hope that if the king besieges, count, it will not be on this side, for you might be exposed to shot from the town batteries."
"If we are so, we must move beyond their range and go to our place at Wirzow. That is but twelve miles away. It is a small house, but will do very well for a time."
"I should hope, count, that there will be no occasion for that. The king cannot hope to lay siege in regular form, though he may try an assault. Slow as Daun is, he must be here within ten days or so of Frederick's arrival; and it is probable that the march here is intended rather to draw Daun away from his Russian allies, than with any hope of taking Dresden."
"Will you go this afternoon?"
"I think that I ought to, count. If the news has come that Frederick is marching to besiege Dresden, he cannot be far away; for it is certain that he will march as fast as he can, and will himself follow closely on the news. 'Tis plain that Lacy feels himself unable to oppose him, and must be falling back with all speed before him. If I were to report myself this evening as convalescent, I can join him tomorrow, if I find that he is but a march away."
"I will take you in my carriage, as before," the count said. "I can get back here before dark."
Two hours later they started, Thirza consoled to some extent by the assurance that, in all probability, Fergus would be back again in the course of two or three days. They found that the Austrian advanced posts had already been withdrawn, and experienced no difficulty with the Prussians; so that by five o'clock they arrived at the hospital, the count at once starting on his return journey.
Karl was delighted at seeing his master looking himself again.
"I hardly thought that a month could do so much for you," he said, "especially as you were mending but slowly, before you went."
"Yes, I was a poor creature then, Karl; and I did not think, myself, that I should be really fit for work for some time to come; but at any rate, in such weather as this, I have no fear of breaking down."
Putting on his uniform, he went to the principal medical officer, and reported his return and his fitness for duty.
"You have certainly gained strength a great deal faster than I expected, Colonel Drummond. I don't know that you are fit for any really hard work, but I suppose that you will be at least a week before you join the king; and by that time you may be able to do a fair amount of work."
"I fancy I shall join the king tomorrow, doctor."
"Tomorrow?" the surgeon repeated in surprise.
"Yes, sir. Have you not heard the news? The king is marching with all speed this way. I do not know what his intention is--to force Lacy to give battle single handed before Daun can arrive, or to besiege Dresden--but in the city they believe that they are going to be besieged."
"This is news indeed," the surgeon said. "The scouts brought in word this morning that a considerable force was seen, coming along the road from Bautzen. It must be Lacy's army."
"We may be sure that the king is pretty close at his heels," Fergus said. "I have no doubt that by tomorrow morning we shall have news of him, and I fancy that I shall not have far to ride to join him."
The opinion was justified. That evening Lacy joined the Confederate army, in their strong position behind the gap of Plauen. He had been hotly chased, indeed. Frederick had been manoeuvring to pass Daun and carry on a campaign in Silesia; but the Austrian general had been too cautious, and it was impossible to pass him without fighting; so on the night of the 8th he left Bautzen suddenly and silently, and marched all night, in hopes of catching Lacy at Godau. The latter's Croats, however, brought him news in time, and he at once retreated.
After a short halt the Prussians pressed on for another eighteen miles, capturing some of Lacy's hussars, but failing to come up with his main body; which, marching all that day and the next night, arrived near Dresden on the morning of the 10th, Lacy himself reaching the town the evening before. By Thursday evening the whole of his army had crossed Dresden bridge and got in safely behind Plauen, leaving ten thousand men to aid the four thousand in the garrison.
At noon Fergus, hearing that, without doubt, the whole of the enemy had fallen back, started with Karl; and that evening rode into the royal camp, and reported himself to the king.
"I am glad to see you back, Drummond," Frederick said heartily. "I have sorely missed you; and indeed, when I rode away the accounts of you were so bad that I doubted whether you would ever be able to be with me again. You don't look quite yourself yet, but no doubt the air and exercise will soon bring you round. Have you any news?"
"Lacy has left ten thousand men in Dresden, sire, and with the rest of his force has joined the Confederate army at Plauen."
"Just what I wished," the king said. "It has saved me a long march, and we will now go straight to Dresden."
The next day the army marched forward, circled round the western and southern sides of Dresden, and encamped at Gruna, a mile to the southeast of the city; and throughout the night laboured at getting up batteries. The division under Holstein was planted on an eminence on the other side of the river, across which a pontoon bridge was at once thrown. There was no fear of disturbance from Lacy, the united force of the enemy having retreated to the old Saxon camp at Pirna. The king, after seeing the batteries marked out, retired to bed early; and Fergus was able to ride round and pay a short visit to the count.
On the 14th the batteries opened fire--Maguire having refused the summons to surrender--and continued for four days without making much impression upon the walls, the heaviest guns being only twenty-five pounders.
On the 18th some heavy guns arrived from Magdeburg. The batteries were all ready for them, and as soon as they arrived they were set to work. Maguire burnt the suburbs outside the town, and answered the cannonade hotly.
Finding that the guns on the walls did but little damage to the Prussian batteries, Maguire mounted two or three guns on to the leads of the Protestant church, and from this commanding position he was able to throw shot right into them. The Prussian fire was at once concentrated on the church, which was speedily set on fire. This spread through the surrounding streets, and a tremendous conflagration raged for the next forty-eight hours. But by this time Daun, who had lost some days before setting out in pursuit of Frederick, was within five miles of the town, had driven Holstein across the river, and was in communication with Maguire.
On the night of the 21st-22nd Maguire's garrison, led by General Nugent, sallied out from Dresden; while four thousand of Daun's men marched round from the north side. For a time the assault on the Prussian intrenchments was successful, although Nugent was, on his first attack, repulsed and taken prisoner. But when Daun's people arrived the regiments defending the trenches were driven out. Then fresh battalions came up and drove the Austrians out, taking many prisoners.
Daun remained passive for some days after this, and Frederick continued to cannonade the city until the 29th; making, however, his preparations for departure, and going off unmolested by the enemy towards Meissen. The news reached him that Glatz, one of the barrier fortresses of Silesia, had been taken by Loudon, and that the latter was besieging Breslau.
Daun had guessed the way by which Frederick would retire, and had broken up the roads and bridges, and felled trees in the forests so as to render them impassable; and as soon as Frederick started he moved in the same direction, his position so serving him that, marching by a road parallel to that taken by the king, he was ahead of him. Lacy had been warned to be prepared, and he too started with his army, so that the three forces moved eastward at a comparatively short distance apart.
Although hampered by the obstacles in their way, and by a train of two thousand wagons, the Prussians moved rapidly and covered a hundred miles in five days. Daun made what was, for him, prodigious efforts also, and kept the lead he had gained.
On the 7th of August Frederick was thirty miles west of Liegnitz. Here he halted for a day, and on the 9th marched to the Katzbach valley, only to find that Daun was securely posted on the other side of the river, and Lacy on the hills a few miles off. The next morning Frederick marched down the bank of the Katzbach to Liegnitz, Daun keeping parallel with him on the other side of the river.
Knowing that Daun had been joined during the night by Loudon, and that they were vastly too strong to be attacked, Frederick started at eleven at night, and at daybreak was back on his old camping ground. He crossed the river, hoping to be able to fall upon Lacy; but the latter had moved off, and Frederick, pressing on, would have got fairly ahead of his enemies if it had not been for the heavy baggage train, which delayed him for five hours; and by the time it came up he found that Lacy, Daun, and Loudon were all round him again.
The situation seemed desperate. The army had but four days' provisions left, and a scout sent out on the 12th reported that the roads over the hills were absolutely impassable for baggage. At eight o'clock the army set out again, recrossed the Katzbach, and again made for Liegnitz, which they reached after a sixteen hours' march. Here the king halted for thirty hours, and his three enemies gathered round him again.
They were ninety thousand strong, while he was but thirty. Daun made elaborate reconnaissances, and Frederick had no doubt that he would be attacked, that night or early the next morning. After dark the army marched quietly away, and took up its position on the heights of Torberger, its fires being left burning brightly, with two drummers to beat occasionally.
Daun's and Lacy's fires were clearly visible; but they, like his own, were deserted, both having marched to catch him, as they hoped, asleep at Liegnitz; but it chanced that Loudon had been ordered to take post just where Frederick had halted, and his troops came suddenly upon the Prussians in the dark.
A battalion was despatched at once, with some cannon, to seize the crest of the Wolfberg. Loudon, whose work was to prevent Frederick from flying eastward, had hurried forward; his scouts having informed him that a number of the Prussian baggage waggons were passing, and hoped to effect a capture of them; and he was vastly surprised when, instead of finding the baggage guard before him, he was received with a tremendous musketry fire and volleys of case shot.
He at once rallied his troops and, with five battalions in front, dashed forward. He was repulsed, but returned to the attack three times. He kept edging round towards the right, to take Frederick in flank; but the Prussians also shifted their ground, and met him. The Austrian cavalry poured down again and again, and fresh battalions of infantry were continually brought up.
At last Loudon felt that the contest was hopeless, and fell back across the Katzbach. The Prussians captured six thousand of his men before they could get across the river, four thousand were killed and wounded, and eighty-two cannons captured. Thus his army of thirty-five thousand strong had been wrecked by the Prussian left wing, numbering fifteen thousand; the rest of the Prussian forces, under Ziethen, keeping guard lest Daun and Lacy should come on to aid him. Daun, however, was miles away, intent upon catching Frederick; and did not know until morning that his camp had been deserted, and Loudon beaten.
As soon as he was assured of this, he poured his cavalry across the river, but Ziethen's cannon drove them back again; and he saw that, with Ziethen standing in order of battle, in a commanding position, with his guns sweeping the bridges, he could do nothing.
Frederick remained four hours on the battlefield, collected five thousand muskets lying on the field and, with the six thousand prisoners, his wounded, and newly-captured cannon, marched away at nine o'clock in the morning.
A Russian force of twenty-four thousand still blocked the way; but, desirous above all things to effect a junction with Prince Henry, Frederick got rid of them, by sending a peasant with instructions to let himself be taken by the Russians. The slip of paper he carried contained the words: "Austrians totally beaten this day. Now for the Russians, dear brother, and swift. Do what we have agreed upon."
The ruse had its effect. The Russian general, believing that Frederick and Prince Henry were both about to fall upon him, retreated at once, burning the bridge behind him; and the king pushed on to Breslau, which he reached on the 16th; having, thanks to the wonderful marching of his troops, and his own talent, escaped as if by a miracle from what seemed certain destruction.
For a fortnight Frederick remained encamped, at a short distance from Breslau, waiting to see what Daun and Soltikoff intended to do. Daun was busy urging the Russians to come on. Soltikoff was sulky that Daun had failed in all his endeavours, and that the brunt of the affair was likely, again, to fall on him and his Russians.
Elsewhere things had gone more favourably for the king. Ferdinand of Brunswick had now twenty thousand British with him, and fifty thousand Hanoverians and Brunswickers; while the French army under Broglio was one hundred and thirty thousand strong. A check was first inflicted on the French at Korbach and, a few days later, an English cavalry regiment and a battalion of Scotch infantry cut up or captured a brigade of French dragoons.
On the 29th of July, as Frederick was leaving Dresden, a serious engagement took place at Warburg. Here Broglio's rear guard of thirty thousand infantry and cavalry, under the Chevalier du Muy, were attacked; in the first place by a free corps called the British Legion, composed of men of many nationalities, who turned Du Muy's right wing out of Warburg. Then the Prince of Brunswick fell upon the whole French line, and the fight was a stubborn one for two or three hours, Maxwell's British brigade fighting most obstinately. They were greatly outnumbered, but were presently joined by Lord Granby, at the head of the English cavalry, and these decided the battle.
The French lost fifteen hundred killed, over two thousand prisoners, and their guns; the allies twelve hundred killed and wounded, of whom eight hundred were British, showing how large a share they had taken in the fighting.
Another good bit of news for Frederick was that Hulsen, whom he had left to watch the enemy in Saxony, had, with ten thousand men, defeated an army thirty thousand strong; who, as they thought, had caught him in a net. The Russians had fallen back, but only to besiege Colbert again.
Prince Henry was ill, but Frederick had made a junction with his army, bringing his force up to fifty thousand. During the whole of September there were marches and counter-marches, Frederick pushing Daun backwards, and preventing him from besieging any of his fortresses, and gradually cutting the Austrians from their magazines.
General Werner on the 18th, with five thousand men, fell suddenly upon fifteen thousand Russians covering the siege of Colbert, defeated, and scattered them in all directions. The Russian army at once marched away from Colbert; not however, as Frederick hoped, back to Poland but, in agreement with Daun, to make a rush on Berlin.
One force, twenty thousand strong, crossed the Oder. The main body, under Fermor, for Soltikoff had fallen sick, moved to Frankfort; while Lacy, with fifteen thousand, marched from Silesia. On the 3rd of October the Russian vanguard reached the neighbourhood of Berlin, and summoned it to surrender, and pay a ransom of four million thalers. The garrison of twelve hundred strong, joined by no small part of the male population, took post at the gates and threw up redoubts; and Prince Eugene of Wuertemberg, after a tremendous march of forty miles, threw himself into the city.
The Russian vanguard drew off, until joined by Lacy. Hulsen, with nine thousand, had followed Lacy with all speed; and managed to throw himself into Berlin before the twenty thousand Russians arrived. There were now fourteen thousand Prussians in the city, thirty-five thousand Russians and Austrians outside.
The odds were too great. Negotiations were therefore begun with the Russian general Tottleben, and Berlin agreed to pay one million and a half thalers, in the debased coin that now served as the medium of circulation. Lacy was furious and, when he and the Russians marched in, his men behaved so badly that the Russians had, two or three times, to fire upon them. Saxon and Austrian parties sacked Potsdam and other palaces in the neighbourhood, but the Russians behaved admirably; and so things went on until, on October 11th, came the news that Frederick was coming.
Lacy at once marched off with all speed towards Torgau; while Tottleben and the Russians made for Frankfort-on-Oder, the Cossacks committing terrible depredations on the march.
The king halted when he heard that Berlin had been evacuated. He was deeply grieved and mortified that his capital should have been in the hands of the invaders, even for three days; and his own loss, from the sacking of Potsdam and other palaces, was very heavy. However, he paid the ransom from his own pocket, and bitterly determined to get even with the enemy, before winter came on.
While Hulsen was away, the Confederate army had captured all the strongholds in Saxony. Daun had, as usual, advanced with his sixty thousand men, and intended to winter in Saxony; but before he could get there, Frederick had dashed south and recaptured Wittenberg and Leipzig, crossed the Elbe, and driven the scattered corps of the Confederate army before him. Prince Eugene had also hurried that way, and defeated his brother, the reigning Duke of Wuertemberg.
Daun moved with the intention of aiding the Confederate army, but before he could reach them Hulsen had driven them across the mountain range into Bohemia, and fell back towards Torgau.
Long before this Fergus had received a reply, from his mother, to his letter announcing the glad news of the restoration of the estate: "It will be doubly dear to me," she said, "as having been won back by your own exertions and bravery. These four years have been an anxious time, indeed, for me, Fergus; but the thought that you are restored to your own, as the result of what you have done, makes up for it all. I quite see that as long as the war continues you cannot, with honour, leave the king; but I cannot think that this war will go on very much longer, and I can wait patiently for the end.
"And, Fergus, I am not quite sure that the end will be that you will quietly settle down in the glens. A mother's eye is sharp, and it seems to me that that young countess near Dresden is a very conspicuous figure in your letters. During the four years that you have been out, you have not mentioned the name of any lady but her and her mother; and you always speak of going back there, as if it were your German home. That is natural enough, after the service that you have rendered them. Still, 'tis strange that you should apparently have made the acquaintance of no other ladies. I don't think that you have written a single letter, since you have been away, in which you have not said something about this Saxon count and his family.
"However, even if it should be so, Fergus, I should not be discontented. It is only natural that you should sooner or later marry; and although I would rather that it had been into a Scotch family, it is for you to choose, not me. I am grateful already, very grateful for the kindness the family have shown you; and am quite inclined to love this pretty young countess, if she, on her part, is inclined to love you. I don't think I could have said so quite as heartily, before I received your last letter; for I had a great fear that you might marry and settle down, altogether, in Germany; but now that the estate is yours, and you are the head of your clan, I feel sure that you will, at any rate, spend a part of your time among your own people."
A second letter reached Fergus at the beginning of October; in answer to his from the camp in front of Dresden, in the middle of July, which had been delayed much on its way, owing to the rapid marches of the army, until it had shaken itself free from its pursuers after the battle of Liegnitz. It began: "I congratulate you, my dear Fergus, congratulate you with all my heart; and if there is just a shadow of regret that you should not have married and settled here entirely, it is but a small regret, in proportion to the pleasure I feel. It is not even reasonable, for when I consented to your going abroad to take service in Prussia, I knew that this would probably end in your settling down there altogether; for it was hardly likely that you could win a fortune that would admit of your coming back to live here.
"Of course, had your estate at that time been restored to you, you would probably not have gone at all; or if you had done so, it would have been but to stay for a few years, and see service under your cousin Keith, and then return to live among your own people. As it was, there was no reason why you should greatly wish to return to Scotland, where you were landless, with no avenues open to employment. However, what you tell me, that the count and countess are willing that you should spend some months here, every year, is far better than I could have expected or even hoped; and, as you may imagine, quite reconciles me to the thought of your marrying abroad.
"In all other respects, nothing could be more satisfactory than what you tell me. Your promised wife must be a charming young lady, and her father and mother the kindest of people. Of course, your worldly prospects will be vastly beyond anything that even my wildest dreams have ever pictured for you, and in this respect all my cares for you are at an end.
"It will be delightful, indeed, to look forward to your homecoming every year; and I consider myself in every way a fortunate woman. I am sure that I shall come to love your Thirza very dearly.
"The only question is, when is the first visit to take place? Everyone says that it does not seem that the war can go on very much longer; and that, wonderful as the king's resistance to so many enemies has been, it cannot continue. However, from what you say of his determination, and the spirit of the people, I cannot think that the end can be so near as people think. They have been saying nearly the same thing for the last three years; and yet, though everything seemed as dark as possible, he always extricated himself somehow from his difficulties.
"Besides, his enemies must at last get tired of a war in which, so far, they have had more defeats than victories, and have lavished such enormous sums of money. France has already impoverished herself, and Russia and Austria must feel the strain, too. In every church here prayers are offered for the success of the champion of Protestantism; and I am sure that if he had sent Scottish officers, as Gustavus Adolphus did, to raise troops in Scotland, he could have obtained forty or fifty thousand men in a very few weeks, so excited is everyone over the struggle.
"You would be surprised what numbers of people have called upon me, to congratulate me upon your rising to be a colonel in Frederick's army--people I have never seen before; and I can assure you that I never felt so important a person, even before the evil days of Culloden. When you come back the whole countryside will flock to give you welcome."
This letter was a great comfort to Fergus. That his mother would rejoice at his good fortune, he knew; but he feared that his marriage with a German lady, whatever her rank, would be a sore disappointment to her, not so much perhaps for her own sake as for that of the clansmen.
The English ambassador was no longer with the army. At the fierce fight of Liegnitz he had been with Frederick, but had passed the night in his carriage, which was jammed up among the baggage wagons, and had been unable to extricate himself or to discover how the battle was going on. Several times the Austrian cavalry had fallen upon the baggage, and had with great difficulty been beaten off by its guard; and the discomforts of the time, and the anxiety through which he had gone, so unhinged him that he was unable to follow Frederick's rapid movements throughout the rest of the campaign.
Fergus had confided to Earl Marischal Keith, later, his engagement to the Count Eulenfurst's daughter.
"You are a lucky young dog, Fergus," he said. "My brother and I came abroad too late for any young countess to fall in love with us. There is nothing like taking young to the business of soldiering abroad. Bravery is excellent in its way; but youth and bravery, combined with good looks, are irresistible to the female mind. I am heartily glad that one of our kin should have won something more than six feet of earth by his sword.
"Count Eulenfurst is one of the few men everyone speaks well of. There is no man in Saxony who stands higher. In any other country he would have been the leading statesman of his time, but the wretched king, and his still more wretched minister, held in disfavour all who opposed their wanton extravagance and their dangerous plans.
"It is an honour indeed to be connected with such a family, putting aside all question of money; but indeed, in this respect nothing could be more satisfactory. His daughter is the sole heiress of his wide estates, and as her husband you will have a splendid position.
"I am very glad, lad, that the count has no objection to your passing a portion of your time in Scotland. They say, you know, that much as Scotchmen boast of their love of their country, they are always ready to leave it to better themselves; and that it is very seldom they ever return to it. Such was, unhappily, the case with my brother; such will probably be the case with myself; but I am glad that you will be an exception, and that you will still keep up your connection with your old home.
"I hope, lad, that you will have more than one son. The first, of course, will make Saxony his home; but bring up the second as a Scotchman, send him home to be educated, and let him succeed you in the glens. If he has the family instinct for fighting, let him go into the British army--he can go into no better--but let your people have some one who will be their own laird, and whose interests will be identified with their own."
Fergus smiled at the old man's earnestness.
"That is rather looking ahead, sir," he said. "However, it is certainly what I should like to do, myself; and if, as you say, I have more than one son, I will certainly give the second the training you suggest, and make a Scotchman of him. Certainly, if he has fighting instincts, he will see that he will have more opportunities of active service, in the British army, than he could have in that of Saxony; which has been proved unable to stand alone, and can only act as a small ally to either Prussia or Austria. Even putting aside my nationality, I would rather be fighting under Clive, in India, than in any service in the world--even in that of Prussia."
"You are right, lad. Since the days of Marlborough, people have begun to think that the British were no longer a fighting people; but the way in which they have wrested Canada from the French, and achieved marvels in India, to say nothing of the conduct of their infantry at Minden, shows that the qualities of the race are unchanged; and some day they will astonish the world again, as they have done several times in their history."
The king soon heard the news from the Earl, and one evening said to Fergus: "So, as the Earl Marischal tells me, you have found time, Colonel Drummond, for love making. I thought, that day I went to express my regrets for the outrage that had been committed at Count Eulenfurst's, that it would make a pretty romance if the young lady who received me should take a fancy to you; which was not altogether unlikely, after the gallant manner in which you had saved them all from those rascals of mine; and when you told me, at Dresden, that they had been nursing you, the idea again occurred to me. Well, I am glad you have done so well for yourself. As a king, I rejoice that one who has fought so bravely should obtain a meet reward; and as one who dabbles in poetry, the romance of the thing is very pleasant to me.
"But I am not to lose your services, I hope?"
"No, sire. So long as the war goes on, I shall continue to serve your majesty to the best of my powers."
The king nodded.
"It is what I should have expected, from one of Marshal Keith's relations," he said; "but it is not everyone who would care to go on leading this dog's life, when a pretty and well-endowed bride is awaiting him.
"However, it cannot last much longer. The crisis must come, ere long. If we can defeat Daun, it may be put off for a time. If we are beaten, I do not see that I can struggle longer against fate. With Berlin already in their hands, with the country denuded of men and almost exhausted in means, with the Russian and Austrian armies already planted on Prussian soil, I can do no more, if I lose another great battle."
"We must hope that it will not be so, sire. The spirit of the soldiers is as high as ever and, now that they will be fighting nearly within sight of their homes, they can be trusted to achieve almost impossibilities."
"The men are good men," the king said, "and if I had Keith and Schwerin by my side, I should feel more hopeful; but they are gone, and there are none to fill their places. My brother Henry is a good soldier, but he is over cautious. Seidlitz has not recovered from his wounds. Hulsen has done well of late, and has shown wonderful energy, considering that he is an old man. But there are none of them who are at once prudent when it behoved them to be prudent, and quick to strike when they see an opening, like Schwerin and Keith.
"Ziethen is a splendid cavalry officer, but he is fit to command cavalry only; and the whole burden falls upon my shoulders, which are getting too old to bear so heavy a weight."
"I trust, sire, that they will not have to bear the burden much longer. Just at present Russia and Austria are doubtless encouraged by success; but the strain must be heavy on them also, and another defeat might well cause them to doubt whether it is worthwhile to continue to make sacrifices that produce such small results."
"Heaven grant that it may be so!" the king said earnestly. "God knows that I never wanted this war, and that from the day it began I have eagerly grasped every chance that presented itself of making peace, short of the dismemberment of my kingdom. I would at this moment willingly accede to any terms, however onerous, in order to secure peace for my country."
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{
"id": "19714"
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: Torgau.
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After many marches and quick blows at the Confederate armies, and driving them beyond the borders of Saxony, Frederick moved towards Torgau, where Daun had established himself in a position that he deemed impregnable. It had been Prince Henry's camp during the previous autumn, and Daun had in vain beleaguered it. Hulsen had made it his headquarters during the summer.
Torgau was an old-fashioned town, surrounded by tracts of pine wood, with pleasant villages and much well-cultivated land. The town rose above the Elbe, on the shoulder of a broad eminence called the Siptitz. This height stands nearly a mile from the river. On the western and southern side of the town are a series of lakes and quagmires, the remains of an old course of the Elbe.
Set on Siptitz's heights was Daun's camp, girt about by intrenchments. The hill was mostly covered with vineyards. Its height was some two hundred feet above the general level of the country, and its area some five or six square miles. Covered, as its flanks were, by heights, woods, ponds, and morasses, the position was an extremely strong one, so much so that Daun had not ventured to attack Prince Henry, though in vastly superior force; and still more difficult was it for Frederick to do so, when held by an army greatly superior to his own, for the Austrian force numbered sixty-five thousand, while the king, after being joined by all his detachments, had but forty-four thousand. Nothing, indeed, but the most urgent necessity could have driven the king to attempt so difficult an enterprise.
[Map: Battle of Torgau] His plan was to attack it simultaneously in front and rear; and to do this he decided that half the force, under Ziethen, should attack the Siptitz hill on the south side; while he himself, with the other half, was to make a long detour and assault it, at the same moment, on the north.
Frederick's march was some fifteen miles in length, while Ziethen had but six to traverse; and as the route was through forests, the difficulties in the way of the two columns arriving at their point of attack, simultaneously, were great indeed; and were increased by the fact that the weather was wet, the ground heavy, and the streams swollen.
The king's force marched in three columns, by roads through the forest. There were no villages here, no one to question as to the turns and branchings of roads, thus adding to the chances that even Frederick's force would not arrive together at the point of attack. Frederick's own column contained eight thousand grenadiers and foot guards, with a force of cavalry; and his line of march was by the road nearest to Daun's position.
Two other columns--Hulsen's, composed principally of infantry; and Holstein's, chiefly of cavalry--marched on parallel roads on a wider circle; and the baggage, in a column by itself, outside all.
Daun had news of Frederick's approach, and had strong detachments watching in the woods. The scouts of one of these parties brought in news of the king's march. A signal cannon was fired immediately, and Daun learned thereby of the movement to attack him from the north.
Daun at once wheeled round a portion of his force to receive Frederick's attack. Lacy, with twenty thousand men, had been placed as an advanced guard; and now shifted his position westward, to guard what had become Daun's rear; while two hundred fresh cannon were added, to the two hundred already placed, to defend the face threatened by Frederick.
For an hour before the king arrived at his point of attack, a heavy artillery fire had been heard from Ziethen's side; and it was supposed that he had already delivered his attack. Unfortunately, he had not done so. He had calculated his pace accurately, but had come upon a small Austrian force, like those Frederick had encountered. It had for a time held its ground, and had replied to his fire with cannon. Ziethen, not knowing how small the force was, drew up in order of battle and drove it back on Lacy, far to the east of his proper place of attack. Here he became engaged with Lacy, and a cannonade was kept up for some hours--precious time that should have been spent in ascending the hills, and giving aid to the king.
When Frederick's column emerged from the woods, there was no sign of either Hulsen or Holstein's divisions. The king sent out his staff to hurry them up, and himself reconnoitred the ground and questioned the peasants.
The ground proved so boggy as to be impassable, and Frederick withdrew into the wood again, in order to attack the Austrian left. This had, in Prince Henry's time, been defended by a strong abattis; but since the cold weather set in, much of this had been used by the Austrians as firewood, and it could therefore be penetrated.
Frederick waited impatiently. He could hear the heavy cannonade on Ziethen, and feared that that general would be crushed before he could perform his part of the plan arranged. His staff were unable to find Holstein's cavalry, which had taken the wrong turning at some point, and were completely lost. Hulsen was still far away.
Nevertheless, in his desire to give support to Ziethen, the king decided upon an attack with his own column, alone. The grenadiers were placed in the front line, the rest of the infantry in the centre. The cavalry, 800 strong, followed to do any service that chance might afford them.
It took some time to bring the troops into their new position and, while this was being done, Daun opened fire, with his four hundred cannon, upon the forest through which they were marching, with a din that Frederick declared exceeded anything that he ever heard before. The small force of artillery took its place outside the wood to cover the attack but, as soon as a few shots were fired, the Austrian guns opened upon them and they were silenced.
Frederick's place was between the two lines of his grenadiers, and they issued from the wood within eight hundred yards of Prince Henry's abattis, and with marvellous bravery ran forward. Mowed down in lines by the storm of cannon shot, they suffered terribly. One regiment was almost entirely destroyed, the other pressed forward as far as the abattis, fighting so desperately that Daun was obliged to bring up large reinforcements before he could drive the survivors back.
The Austrians, believing that victory was won, charged down in pursuit; but the second line met them firmly, drove them back and, following hotly, again reached the abattis; and only retreated slowly before the overwhelming forces which the Austrian then brought up. The battle had lasted only an hour, but half Frederick's column were already killed or wounded.
Shortly after they had retired, Hulsen's column came up. The four hundred guns had never ceased pouring their iron rain into the forest, but the newcomers arrived in splendid order. The remnant of Frederick's column joined them, furious at defeat and burning to meet the enemy again.
So stern and resolute was the attack that, for a time, it carried all before it. Daun's line of defence was broken, most of his cannon silenced, and for a time the Prussians advanced, carrying all before them. Had Ziethen been doing his part, instead of idly cannonading Lacy, the battle would have been won; but his inactivity enabled Daun to bring up all his forces against the king. These he hurled at the Prussians and, foot by foot, drove them back and pushed them down the hill again.
Frederick himself had been struck from his horse by a piece of case shot, fortunately almost spent, and which failed to penetrate his thick pelisse. He was badly contused, and for a short time insensible; but he quickly sprung to his feet again, mounted his horse, and maintained his place in the fight as if nothing had happened. After this second repulse he again formed up his troops, and at that moment he was joined by Holstein with his cavalry.
The sun had already set, and the darkness favoured the attack. Daun had not yet recovered from the terrible confusion into which his troops were thrown by the attack, and the Prussians again mounted the hill, Holstein attacking Daun's right wing.
The main body of the cavalry found the morasses and obstacles so impracticable that they were unable to attack as arranged, but two regiments succeeded in gaining the plateau. One of these dashed upon the Austrian infantry. They met, broke into fragments, and took two whole regiments prisoners; and brought them and six guns triumphantly off. The other regiment charged four Austrian battalions, broke them, and brought the greater portion off, prisoners.
Night fell upon a scene of general confusion. The two armies were completely mixed up. In some places Austrians were in the rear of the Prussians, in others Prussians in the rear of Austrians.
Nothing more could to be done. So far Frederick had gained a success and, thanks to the extraordinary bravery and determination of his soldiers, had broken up Daun's line and planted himself on the plateau; but he had suffered terribly in doing so, and could hardly hope, in the morning, to make head against the vastly superior forces of the Austrians.
Daun himself had been wounded in the foot, and had gone down to the town to have it dressed. Had he been able to remain on the field, late as it was, he might have been able to restore order and to continue the battle; as it was, gradually the firing ceased. Exhausted by the long march and the desperate efforts they had made, the Prussians wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay down to sleep where they stood--if sleep they could, on so bitterly cold a night.
On the hilltop there was no wood to be had, but in the forest great fires were lighted. Round these Prussian and Austrian stragglers alike gathered. In the morning they would be foes again, but for tonight they were content to lay their quarrel aside, none knowing who was victor and who vanquished; and which, in the morning, would be prisoners to the others.
The king, now that the excitement was over, felt the pain of his wound. He descended the hill, and took up his quarters in the church at the little village of Elsnig, where every house was full of wounded. He had left Hulsen the charge of endeavouring to reform the scattered troops, but he could do but little that way. In vain did the generals and officers move about with orders, expostulations, and threats. For once the Prussian soldier was deaf to the word of command. He had done all that he could do, and nature triumphed over long habits of obedience; even the sound of cannon and musketry, on the other side of the hill, fell dead upon his ears. Ziethen had been cannonading all day. Nothing had come of it, and nothing could come of it.
Still, Hulsen did a good deal, and by six o'clock had got some of the cavalry and infantry battalions in fair order, on the extreme right; where, in the morning, Daun's left flank stood.
Ziethen, ordinarily a brilliant and active man, had been a strange failure that day. Not even the terrible din of the king's battle had roused him to take any measure to support him, or even to make a diversion in his favour. In vain Mollendorf, an active and enterprising general, had implored him to attempt something, if only to draw off a portion of the Austrian strength from the king. Saldern, another general, had fruitlessly added his voice to that of Mollendorf.
A feeling of deep gloom spread through the army, a feeling that the king had been deserted, and must have been crushed; just as, on the other side, all felt certain that some serious misfortune must have happened to Ziethen.
At last, as darkness began to set in, at four o'clock, Ziethen was persuaded to move. He marched towards the left, to the point where he should have attacked in the morning, but which he had passed in his hot pursuit of the small Austrian force; but first sent Saldern against the village of Siptitz.
Burning with their repressed impatience, Saldern's infantry went at the enemy with a rush, captured the battery there, and drove the Austrians out; but the latter fired the bridge so that, for the present, farther advance was barred to the Prussians.
Fortunately at this moment Mollendorf, more to the west, came upon the road by which Ziethen should have marched. It was carried firmly over the marsh ground, and by a bridge over a stream between two of the ponds. Seizing this pass over the morasses, Mollendorf sent to Ziethen; who, roused at last, ordered all his force to hurry there.
The Austrians had now taken the alarm, and hurried to oppose the passage; but Mollendorf had already many troops across the bridge, and maintained himself till he was sufficiently reinforced to push forward.
For an hour and a half a desperate fight raged. The Prussians gained but little ground, while the Austrians were constantly being reinforced from Lacy's command, on their left. Hulsen, however, just as he had got a portion of his infantry and cavalry into some sort of order, had marked the sudden increase of the cannonade on the other side of the hill; and, presently seeing the glow of a great fire, guessed that it must come from the village of Siptitz. Then came a furious cannonade, and the continuous roar of musketry that spoke of a battle in earnest. Ziethen, then, was coming at last, and the old general determined to help him.
His own riding horses had all been killed, and he had been sorely bruised by the falls. Sending for a cannon, he got astride of it, called up the infantry round him--the brigade of General Lestwitz--begged the drummers to strike up the Prussian march and, through the blackness of the night, started for the point where the din of battle was going on unceasingly.
Forgotten now were the fatigues of the day. The Prussians pressed on with their quick strides, their excitement growing higher and higher as they neared the scene of action; and breaking out into a roar of cheering as, sweeping round on the side of the hill, they joined Ziethen's hardly-pressed troops and rushed upon the enemy.
But though the news of their coming cheered all the line to fresh exertions, not yet was the combat finished. The whole of Lacy's command was opposed to them, swelled by reinforcements sent down from above by O'Donnel who, in Daun's absence, was in command. It was another hour before the foe gave way, and the Prussians pressed steadily up the hill; until at nine o'clock they were planted on the top of the Siptitz hill, on the highest point of the plateau, whence their cannon commanded the whole ground down to Torgau.
Daun, conscious of the danger, had, as he heard of Ziethen's advance, sent order after order that he must at all costs be driven back; and even when the Prussians gained the position, they had still to struggle fiercely for another hour to hold it. Daun knew that, with Frederick established on one side of the position, and with Ziethen well planted upon the other and commanding the whole of it with his guns, there was nothing for it but to retreat; and already he had sent orders that a strong force should form in order of battle to repel an attack, close to the suburbs of Torgau. As soon as this disposition was effected, he ordered the retreat to commence.
Fortunately he had four bridges across the river; and he had, on the previous day, taken the precaution of sending the whole of his baggage wagons over. On occasions of this kind Daun's dispositions were always admirable, and he drew off his army across the river in excellent order; half the Prussian army knowing nothing of what was going on, and the other half being too exhausted to attempt to interfere, ignorant as they were of the position and state of Frederick's division.
Had the king known earlier what was taking place, comparatively few of the Austrian army would have got across the river. But it was not until long after the battle was done that Frederick, sitting depressed and heavy hearted, dictating his despatches in the little church seven or eight miles away, learned that what had seemed likely to terminate in a terrible disaster, had ended with a decisive victory. Daun lost in the battle twelve thousand killed and wounded, eight thousand prisoners, and forty-five cannon; while the Prussians lost between thirteen and fourteen thousand, of whom four thousand were prisoners.
It was not until nearly one o'clock in the morning that Ziethen learned that the Austrians were already across the river. Then he pushed down into Torgau, and crossed the town bridge in time to capture twenty-six pontoons.
Daun retreated by the right side of the river, Lacy by the left; and the two forces rejoined at Dresden, and took up their position, as usual, in the Plauen stronghold; while Frederick, after finishing the clearance of all Saxony save the capital, took up his winter quarters at Leipzig on the 6th of December.
The result of the battle of Torgau was not to be measured by the respective losses of the two armies. It had the effect of entirely undoing all the advantages that the Austrians had gained, throughout the campaign; and left the king in a better position than when it opened in the spring. The Russian army had been attacked and beaten, while the Austrians were shut up in their natural stronghold, near Dresden. The whole of Saxony had been recovered; and Silesia, with the exception of one or two fortresses, was still in Frederick's hands. How light hearted the king felt, after the load of care that had lain upon him had been lifted, may be judged by an extract from a letter, written a fortnight after the battle to an elderly lady of the court at Magdeburg.
"I am exact in answering, and eager to satisfy you (in that matter of the porcelain). You shall have a breakfast set, my good Mamma: six coffee-cups, very pretty, well diapered, and tricked out with all the little embellishments which increase their value. On account of some pieces which they are adding to the set, you will have to wait a few days; but I flatter myself this delay will contribute to your satisfaction, and produce for you a toy that will give you pleasure, and make you remember your old adorer. It is curious how old people's habits agree. For four years past I have given up suppers, as incompatible with the trade I am obliged to follow; and on marching days my dinners consist of a cup of chocolate.
"We hurried off like fools, quite inflated with our victory, to try if we could not chase the Austrians out of Dresden. They made a mockery of us from the tops of their mountains. So I have withdrawn, like a bad little boy, to conceal myself, out of spite, in one of the wretchedest villages in Saxony. And here the first thing will be to drive the Circle gentlemen (Reich's army) out of Freyberg into Chemnitz, and get ourselves soon to quarters, and something to live upon.
"It is, I swear to you, a hideous life; the like of which nobody but Don Quixote ever led before me. All this tumbling and toiling, and bother and confusion that never ceases, has made me so old that you would scarcely know me again. On the right side of my head the hair is all gray. My teeth break and fall out. I have got my face wrinkled like the falbalas of a petticoat, my back bent like a fiddle bow, and spirit sad and cast down like a monk of La Trappe. I forewarn you of all this lest, in case we should meet again in flesh and bone, you might feel yourself too violently shocked by my appearance. There remains to me nothing but the heart, which has undergone no change; and which will preserve, as long as I breathe, its feelings of esteem and of tender friendship for my good Mamma.
"Adieu."
Fergus knew nothing of the concluding scenes of the battle of Torgau until some little time afterwards. He was not with the king when the grenadiers first made their attack on the hill, having been despatched to find and bring up Hulsen's column. Having discovered it, he guided it through the forest to the point where Frederick was so anxiously expecting its arrival; and when it advanced, with the survivors of the grenadiers, to the second attack, he took his place behind the king. They were halfway up the ascent when a cannon ball struck him on the left arm, carrying it away just above the elbow.
[Illustration: "As Fergus fell from his horse, Karl, who was riding behind him, leapt from his saddle"] As he fell from his horse, Karl, who was riding behind him, leapt from his saddle with a hoarse cry of rage. Then, seeing the nature of the wound, he lifted him in his arms, mounted Fergus's horse, and rode down through an interval between the regiments of the second line; and then into the wood, to the spot where the surgeons were dressing the wounds of those hurt in the first charge. One who had just finished attending one of the grenadiers, seeing that the trooper was carrying a colonel of the king's staff, at once helped Karl to lower him to the ground.
"You have done well to bring him down at once, my man," he said. "It may be the saving of his life."
As he spoke, he was cutting off the tunic.
"There is not much flow of blood. You see, the contusion has closed the main artery. If we can keep it from bursting out, he will do."
He took out from his case some stout tape, passed it round the arm, asked Karl for a ramrod out of one his pistols and, with this, twisted the tape until it almost cut into the skin. Then he gave a few more turns, to hold the ramrod securely in its place. Then he called a young surgeon to him.
"We had better make a good job of this, at once," he said. "This is Colonel Drummond, one of the king's favourite officers, and a most gallant young fellow. It will not take us five minutes."
The artery was first found and tied up; for Prussian surgery was, at that time, far ahead of our own. The bruised flesh was pressed up, the bone cut off neatly, above the point where it was splintered, the flesh brought down again over it and trimmed, then several thicknesses of lint put over it, and the whole carefully bandaged up.
"There," he said to Karl, as he rose from his work, "that is all that I can do for him; and unless it bursts out bleeding again, he is likely to do well. If it does, you must tighten that tape still more. All there is to do is to keep him as quiet as possible.
"Have you any spirits?"
"Yes, doctor, there is a flask in his holster."
"Mix some with as much water, and pour a little down his throat from time to time. Fold his cloak, and put it under his head. He will probably recover consciousness in a short time. When he does so, impress upon him the necessity of lying perfectly quiet. As soon as the battle is over, we must get him moved into shelter."
In half an hour Fergus opened his eyes. Karl, who was kneeling by him, placed one hand on his chest and the other on the wounded arm.
"You must not move, colonel," he said. "You have been hit, but the doctor says you will get over it; but you must lie perfectly still."
Fergus looked round in bewilderment. Then, as the roar of the battle came to his ears, he made an instinctive effort to rise.
"It is going on still," Karl said, repressing the movement. "We shall thrash them, presently; but you can do nothing more today, and you must do as the doctor bids you, sir."
"Where am I hit?"
"It is on the left arm, colonel. An Austrian cannonball did the business. If it had been three or four inches farther to the right, it would have finished you. As it is, I hope that you will soon get about again."
"Then it has taken off my arm," Fergus said feebly.
"Better that than your head, sir. The left arm is of no great account, except for holding a bridle; and there is a good bit of it left.
"Drink a little more of this brandy and water. How do you feel now, sir?"
"I feel cold," Fergus replied. "My feet are like ice."
Karl wrapped Fergus's fur-lined pelisse round his feet, undid his blanket and cloak from his saddle, and laid them over him.
"That will be better, sir. Now, if you will promise to lie quite quiet, I will fasten your horse up--I don't know what has become of mine--and will go and collect some firewood and get up a good blaze. I am afraid there is no chance of getting you into a shelter, tonight."
"I am afraid we are being driven down the hill again, Karl. The roll of musketry is coming nearer."
"That is so, colonel; but we shall have the cavalry up soon, and that will make all the difference."
Just as Karl came back with an armful of firewood, a staff officer rode up.
"The king has sent me to inquire how Colonel Drummond is," he said. "His majesty has heard that he is badly wounded, and has been carried here."
"This is the colonel, major," Karl said, leading him to the side of Fergus.
"I am sorry to see you here," the officer said. "The king has sent me to inquire after you."
"Will you thank his majesty, Major Kaulbach; and tell him that it is nothing worse than the loss of a left arm, and that the surgeon's opinion is that I shall do well. How goes the battle?"
"Badly, badly; but Holstein will be up in a quarter of an hour, and then we shall have another try. We broke their line badly, last time; and if we had had cavalry to launch at them, we should have managed the business."
"The king is unhurt, I hope."
"Not altogether. He was struck from his horse by a piece of case shot, but his pelisse saved him. He was able to mount again in a few minutes, making very light of the affair; and was in the middle of the fight, as usual. I was next you when you were hit, and I saw your orderly lift you on to your horse before him and, as soon as we got down here, reported it to the king."
"Our loss must be terribly heavy."
"Terrible! There is no saying how severe it is, yet; but not half the grenadiers are on their feet.
"There is nothing I can do for you?"
"Nothing at all. My orders are to lie still; and as I feel too weak to move, and there is no one to carry me away, and nowhere to take me to, I am not likely to disobey the order."
The officer rode off again. Karl soon had a fire lighted, sufficiently close to Fergus for him to feel its warmth. Wounded men, who had made their way down the hill, came and sat down on the other sides of it. Many other fires were lighted, as it grew dusk.
In front the battle had broken out again, as furiously as ever; and ere long wounded men began to come down again. They brought cheering news, however. The Prussians were still pressing forward, the cavalry had thrown the Austrian line into terrible confusion. No one knew exactly where any of the Prussian battalions had got to, but all agreed that things were going on well.
At five o'clock the roar gradually ceased, and soon all was quiet. The wounded now came in fast, but none could say whether the battle was won or lost; for the night was so dark that each could only speak of what had happened to his own corps.
Presently the number round the fires was swelled by the arrival of numerous Austrians, wounded and unwounded. Most of these laid their rifles by, saying: "It is a bitter night, comrades. Will you let us have a share of the fire?"
"Come in, come in," the Prussians answered. "We are all friends for tonight, for we are all in equally bad plight. Can you tell us how matters have gone, up there?"
But these knew no more than the Prussians. They had got separated from their corps in the confusion and, losing their way altogether, had seen the glow of the fires in the forest, and had come down for warmth and shelter.
Presently Major Kaulbach rode up again.
"How have things gone, major?" Fergus asked eagerly.
"No one knows," he said. "The Austrians are broken up; and our battalions and theirs are so mixed that there is no saying where they are, or how matters will stand in the morning. The king has gone to Elsnig, two or three miles away."
"Is there no news of Ziethen?"
"None. They have just begun to fire heavily again in that direction, but what he has been doing all day, no one has any idea."
But little was said round the fires. A short distance away the surgeons were still at work with the more serious cases, while the soldiers roughly bandaged each other's wounds; but as, gradually, the distant firing increased in fury, and seemed to grow in distinctness, men who had lain down sat up to listen. There was no longer any talking, and a hush fell upon the forest.
"It is certainly coming closer, colonel," Karl said at last. "It seems that Ziethen has woke up in earnest. May the good God grant that he win his way up on to the heights!"
"If he does, we shall have the Austrians, in the morning. If he doesn't, we shall have a poor chance with them."
"I am afraid we sha'n't, colonel; but it certainly sounds as if Ziethen was making way."
At nine o'clock a cavalry officer came riding along. He drew rein at the fire.
"Can anyone tell me where I can find the king?"
"He is at Elsnig, captain," Karl said, rising and saluting. "May I ask what is the news, sir?"
"The news is good. Ziethen has gained the heights. We can see the flash of fire round the Siptitz hill."
A cheer broke from all the Prussians within hearing. There was not a man but knew that the fate of Prussia hung on the result of this battle, and for the moment wounds were forgotten. Men shook hands, with tears of joy streaming down their rugged cheeks; and as others came running up from the other fires, to know what was the news, and then hurried off again to tell their companions, the forest rang with their cheering.
All was not over yet. For a time the firing was louder and heavier than before, but towards ten o'clock news came that Ziethen was firmly established on the Siptitz hill, and that the Austrian battalions were drawing off. Then all lay down to sleep, rejoiced and thankful; and even the Austrians, disconcerted as they were, were not altogether sorry that they must now consider themselves prisoners; and free, for a long time to come, from further risk of battle.
The news, in the morning, that the Austrian army had already crossed the river and was in full retreat southwards, afforded the most intense satisfaction. There was now a hope of shelter and rest in Torgau, instead of the prospect of remaining in the forest, drenched to the skin by the rain that had come down, without intermission, for the last twenty-four hours.
An hour later Major Kaulbach again rode up, accompanied by four infantry men bearing a stretcher.
"The king has already gone on to Torgau, and he has given me orders to see that you are carried there, at once. There will be no more fighting, at present. Daun has got a long start, and there will be enough to do here, for the next twelve hours, in collecting the wounded. Lacy has retreated this side of the river, and Ziethen's cavalry started in pursuit, some hours ago."
Fergus was carefully lifted onto the litter, and carried down to Torgau; where several large houses had already been assigned for the use of wounded officers, while the soldiers were to be placed in the hospitals, public buildings, and churches, Austrians and Prussians being distributed indiscriminately; and by nightfall some twelve thousand wounded were housed in the town. A small body of troops was left there. The inhabitants undertook the charge of the wounded, and the next morning the king marched away south, with the army.
Soon after Fergus was brought in, Frederick paid a visit to the house where he had been carried, and said a few words to each of the wounded officers.
"So you are down again, Drummond. Fortune is not treating you so favourably as she used to do."
"It might have been a good deal worse, your majesty. I think that one who has got off with only the loss of his left arm has no reason to complain."
"No, it might have been worse," the king replied. "I have lost many good friends, and thousands of brave soldiers. However, I too must not complain; for it has saved Prussia.
"Don't hurry to rejoin too soon, Drummond. Another month, and we shall all be in winter quarters."
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Fergus remained at Torgau for six weeks. He had, two days after the battle, sent Karl off to carry a letter to Thirza; telling her that he had been wounded, but that she need have no uneasiness about him; the surgeon saying that the wound was going on well, and that, should it not break out bleeding in the course of another week, he would make a quick cure, and would be fit for service again, long before the spring.
Karl had not found his horse again, but had bought, for a trifle, an Austrian officer's horse that was found riderless; and had become the prize of a trooper, who was glad to part with it at a quarter of its value. He took with him the disguise of a countryman, to put on when he approached the ground held by the Austrians near Dresden; and, leaving his horse fifteen miles away, had no difficulty in making his way in on foot. Karl went round to the back of the house. The servants recognized him as soon as he entered.
"Will one of you ask the count to see me? Let him have the message quietly, when he is alone."
"Your master is not killed?" one of the women exclaimed, in consternation.
"Killed! No, Colonel Drummond is not so easily killed," he replied scornfully. "I have a letter from him in my pocket. But he has been somewhat hurt, and it were best that I saw the count first, and that he should himself give the letter to the Countess Thirza."
In two or three minutes the man returned, and led Karl to a room where the count was awaiting him, with a look of great anxiety on his face.
"All is well, your excellency," Karl said, in answer to the look. "At least, if not altogether well, not so bad as it might be. The colonel was hit at Torgau. A cannonball took off his left arm at the elbow. Fortunately, there were surgeons at work a quarter of a mile away, and he was in their hands within a very few minutes of being hit; so they made a job of his wound, at once. They had not taken the bandages off, when I came away; but as there had been no bleeding, and no great pain or fever, they think it is going on well. They tell him that he will be fit for service, save for his half-empty sleeve, in the spring.
"Here is a letter for the Countess Thirza. It is not written by his own hand, except as to the signature; for the surgeons insist that he must lie perfectly quiet, for any exertion might cause the wound to break out afresh. He is quite cheerful, and in good spirits, as he always is. He bade me give this note into your hands, so that you might prepare the young countess a little, before giving it to her." " 'Tis bad news, Karl, but it might have been much worse; and it will, indeed, be a relief to us all; for since we heard of that desperate fight at Torgau, and how great was the slaughter on both sides, we have been anxious, indeed; and must have remained so, for we should have had little chance of seeing the list of the Prussian killed and wounded.
"Now, do you go into the kitchen. They all know you there. Make yourself comfortable. I will give orders that you shall be well served."
He then proceeded to the room where Thirza and her mother wore sitting. The former was pale, and had evidently been crying.
"Some news has come," he said. "Not the very best, and yet by no means the worst. Drummond is wounded--a severe wound, but not, it is confidently believed, a dangerous one."
Thirza ran to her father and threw her arms round his neck, and burst into a passion of tears. He did not attempt to check them for some little time.
"Now, my dear," he said at last, "you must be brave, or you won't be worthy of this lover of yours. There is one bad point about it."
She looked up in his face anxiously, but his smile reassured her.
"You must prepare yourself for his being somewhat disfigured."
"Oh, that is nothing, father; nothing whatever to me! But how is he disfigured?"
"Well, my dear, he has lost his left arm, at the elbow."
Thirza gave a little cry of grief and pity.
"That is sad, father; but surely it is no disfigurement, any more than that sabre scar on his face. 'Tis an honour, to a brave soldier, to have lost a limb in battle. Still, I am glad that it is his left arm; though, had it been his right and both his legs, it would have made no difference in my love for him."
"Well, I am very glad, Thirza, that your love has not been tested so severely; as I confess that, for my part, I would much prefer having a son-in-law who was able to walk about, and who would not have to be carried to the altar. Here is a letter to you from him--that is to say, which has been written at his dictation, for of course the surgeons insist on his lying perfectly quiet, at present."
Thirza tore it open, and ran through its contents.
"It is just as you say, father. He makes very light of it, and writes as if it were a mere nothing."
She handed the letter to her mother, and then turned to the count.
"Is there anything we can do, father?"
"Nothing whatever. With such a wound as that, he will have to lie perfectly still for some time. You may be sure that, as one of Frederick's personal staff, he will have every attention possible; and were we all in the town, we could do nothing. As soon as he is fit to be moved, it will be different; but we shall have plenty of time to talk over matters before that.
"For some few months travelling will be dangerous. Frederick's army is in the neighbourhood again and, as Daun and Lacy are both in their intrenchments behind the Plauen, there is no chance of his again besieging Dresden; but his flying columns will be all over the country, as doubtless will the Croats, and the roads will be altogether unsafe for travelling. No doubt, as soon as he is able to be moved, he will be taken to Frederick's headquarters, wherever they may be established. The king will assuredly have the hospitals at Torgau cleared, as soon as he can; lest, when he has retired, the Austrians might make another dash at the town."
The next morning Karl set out again, bearing a letter from the count; and one from Thirza which was of a much less formal character than that which he had dictated to her, and which, as he told her afterwards, greatly assisted his cure. A month after the battle he was pronounced fit to travel, and with a large train of wagons filled with convalescents, and under a strong escort, he was taken to Leipzig; where the king had just established his headquarters, and to which all the wounded were to be sent, as soon as they could safely be moved. Here he was established in comfortable quarters, and Karl again carried a letter to Thirza.
Ten days later Count Eulenfurst entered his room.
"You here, count!" he exclaimed. "How kind of you! What a journey to make through the snow!"
"I have been dragged hither," the count said, with a smile.
"Dragged hither, count?"
"Yes. Thirza insisted on coming to see you. Her mother declared that she should accompany her, and of course there was nothing for me to do but to set out, also."
"Are they here, then, count?" Fergus exclaimed incredulously.
"Certainly they are, and established at the Black Eagle Hotel. I could not bring them here, to a house full of officers. You are well enough to walk to the hotel?"
"Yes, indeed. I walked a mile yesterday."
As Karl was helping Fergus into his uniform, he asked: "How long were you in coming here, count?"
"We did it in a day. I sent on relays of horses, two days before; and as the carriage is of course on runners, and the snow in good order, we made quick work of it. Your man went on with the horses, and rode with us from the last place where we changed. I did most of the journey sitting by the coachman; which gave them more room inside, and was more pleasant for me, also."
In a few minutes they reached the hotel, and the count led Fergus to a door.
"You will find Thirza alone there. We thought that you had best see her so, at first."
Half an hour later, the count and countess entered the room.
"He looks very pale and thin, mother," Thirza said, after the countess had affectionately embraced Fergus.
"You would hardly have expected to find him fat and rosy," the count laughed. "A man does not lose his arm, and go about as if the matter was not worth thinking of, a few weeks afterwards. He is certainly looking better than I expected to find him.
"That empty sleeve is a sad disfigurement, though," he added slyly.
"How can you say so, father?" Thirza exclaimed indignantly. "I think quite the contrary, and I feel quite proud of him with it."
"Well, there is no accounting for taste, Thirza. If you are satisfied, I have no reason to be otherwise.
"And now, Drummond, we want to hear all about Liegnitz and Torgau; for we have only heard the Austrian accounts. Dresden illuminated over Daun's first despatch from Torgau, saying that the Prussian attacks had been repulsed with tremendous slaughter, and a complete victory gained. The next morning there came, I believe, another despatch, but it was not published; and it was not until we heard that Daun and Lacy were both within a few miles of the town that we knew that, somehow or other, there had been a mistake about the matter, a mistake that has not yet been cleared up, at Dresden."
"The defeat part of the business I can tell you from my personal observation, the victory only from what I heard. Certainly, when I came to my senses, after the surgeons had seen to my wounds, I had no thought of anything but a disastrous defeat. Never did the Prussians fight more bravely, or more hopelessly. They had to mount a steep ascent, with four hundred cannon playing upon them; and an army, more than three times their number, waiting at the top to receive them."
He then proceeded to tell them the whole story of the battle.
"Ziethen seems to have blundered terribly," the count said.
"I believe that that is the king's opinion, too; but Ziethen himself defends his action stoutly, and maintains that he could never have succeeded in a direct attack, in broad daylight. Anyhow, as the matter came out all right in the end, the king was too well satisfied to do no more than grumble at him.
"The other was a hard-fought battle, too."
"The news of that was a relief to us, indeed," the count said. "It seemed to everyone that Frederick was so completely caught in the toils that he could not hope to extricate himself. As you know, in this war I have, all along, held myself to be a neutral. I considered that the plot to overthrow Frederick and partition the kingdom was a scandalous one, and that the king disgraced himself and us by joining in it; but since that time, my sympathies have become more and more strongly with Frederick. It is impossible not to admire the manner in which he has defended himself. Moreover, the brutality with which the Confederates and Austrians, wherever their armies penetrated Saxony, treated the Protestants, made one regard him as the champion of Protestantism.
"He was wrong in forcing the Saxons to take service with him in his army, after their surrender at Pirna; and the taxes and exactions have, for the last three years, weighed heavily on Saxony, but I cannot blame him for that. It was needful that he should have money to carry on the war, and as Saxony had brought it on herself, I could not blame him that he bore heavily upon her.
"Then, too, Thirza has, for the last two or three years, become a perfect enthusiast for the Prussians. Whether it was the king's gracious manner to herself, or from some other cause, I cannot say; but she has certainly become an ultra-Prussian.
"And now lunch must be ready, and you look as if you wanted it, Drummond; and I am sure Thirza does. She was too excited to eat supper, when we got here last night; and as for her breakfast, it was altogether untouched."
"No doubt you think, Drummond," Count Eulenfurst said, when he called the next morning, "that you have done your duty fairly to Prussia."
"How do you mean, count?" Fergus replied, somewhat puzzled by the question.
"I mean that you have served five campaigns, you have been twice made a prisoner, you were wounded at Zorndorf, you nearly died of fever last winter, now you have lost your arm at Torgau; so I think that you have fully done your duty to the king under whom you took service, and could now retire with a thoroughly clear conscience.
"My own idea is that the war has quite spent its strength. France is practically bankrupt. Austria and Russia must be as tired of the war as Prussia, and this last defeat of their hopes cannot but discourage the two empresses greatly. I hear, from my friends in Vienna, that in the capital and all the large cities they are becoming absolutely disgusted with the war; and though it may go on for a while, I believe that its fury is spent.
"At any rate, I think you have earned a right to think of yourself, as well as others. You certainly have nothing to gain by staying longer in the service."
"I was thinking the same, last night, count. Certainly one man, more or less, will make no difference to Frederick; but I thought that, unless you spoke of it, I should let matters go on as they are, except that I thought of asking for three months' leave to go home."
"That you should go home for a few months is an excellent plan, Drummond; but I think it would be better that, when you were there, you should be able to stay five or six months, if so inclined. Go to the king, tell him frankly that you feel that you want rest and quiet for a time, that you have no longer any occasion in the pecuniary way for remaining in the army, and that you want to get married--all good reasons for resigning a commission. You see, we have now some sort of right to have a voice in the matter. You had a narrow escape at Torgau, and next time you might not be so fortunate; and, anxious as we are for Thirza's happiness, we do think it is high time that you retired from the service."
"That decides it, count. I myself have had quite enough of this terrible work. Were I a Prussian, I should owe my first duty to the country, and as long as the war continued should feel myself bound to set aside all private considerations to defend her to the last; but it is not so, and my first duty now is assuredly to Thirza, to you, and to the countess. Therefore I will, this morning, go to the king and ask him to allow me to resign my commission."
"Do so, Drummond. I thought of saying as much to you, last year; but the anxiety of those terrible three or four days after Torgau decided me. If I thought that your honour was concerned in remaining longer in the army, I should be the last to advise you to leave it, even for the sake of my daughter's happiness; but as it is not so, I have no hesitation in urging you to retire." " 'Tis a good time for me to leave, now. My cousin, the Earl Marischal Keith, returned here three days ago, and I will get him to go with me to the king."
"I shall say nothing to my wife and Thirza about it, till I see you again, Drummond. Of course the king cannot refuse, but I should like him to take it in good part; as indeed, I doubt not that he will."
"I have no doubt that he will, too, count. You may think it absurd, and perhaps vain of me; but indeed it is of the king that I am thinking, rather than of myself. During the past three years he has been good enough to treat me with singular kindness. He has had trouble and care which would have broken down most men, and I think that it has been some relief to him to put aside his cares and troubles, for an hour or two of an evening, and to talk to a young fellow like myself on all sorts of matters; just as he does to Sir John Mitchell, and my cousin, the Earl Marischal."
"I have no doubt of it, Drummond, and I quite understand your feeling in the matter. Still, we are selfish enough to think of our feelings, too."
As soon as the count left, Fergus put on his full uniform and went to the king's quarters. He first saw the Earl Marischal, and told him his errand.
"You are quite right," the old man said heartily. "You have done more than enough fighting, and there is no saying how long this war may drag on. I told you, when I first heard of your engagement to the young countess, that I was glad indeed that you were not always to remain a soldier of fortune; and I am sure that the king will consider that you have more than done your duty, by remaining in his service for a year, after having so splendid a prospect before you. Frederick is disengaged at present, and I will go over with you to him, and will myself open the matter."
Fergus had not seen the king since his arrival at Leipzig.
"I am truly glad to see you on your feet again," the latter said, as Fergus followed his cousin into the room. "I felt by no means sure that I should ever see you again, on that day after Torgau; but you still look very thin and pulled down. You want rest, lad. We all want rest, but it is not all of us that can get it."
"That is what he has come to speak to you about, your majesty," Keith said. "I told you, a year ago, that he was engaged to be married to the daughter of Count Eulenfurst."
The king nodded.
"I remember her, the bright little lady who received me, when I went to her father's house."
"The same, sire. He thinks that the warning he had at Torgau was sufficient; and that, having done his best in your majesty's cause, he has now earned a right to think of himself and her; and so he would beg your majesty to allow him to resign his commission, and to retire from the service."
"He has certainly well earned the right," the king said gravely. "He has done me right good and loyal service, even putting aside that business at Zorndorf; and not the least of those services has been that he has often cheered me, by his talk, when I sorely needed cheering. That empty sleeve of his, that scar won at Zorndorf, are all proofs how well he has done his duty; and his request, now that fortune has smiled upon him in other ways, is a fair and reasonable one.
"I hope, Colonel Drummond," he went on in a lighter tone, "that as you will be settled in Saxony--and this war cannot go on for ever--I shall someday see you and your bride at Berlin. None will be more welcome."
"He is going home to Scotland for a few months, in the first place," Keith said. "It is only right that he should visit his mother and people there, before he settles here. He will, like enough, be back again before the campaign opens in the spring."
Fergus, whose heart was very full, said a few words of thanks to the king for the kindness that he had always shown him, and for what he had now said; and assured him that he should not only come to Berlin, as soon as peace was made; but that, as long as the war lasted, he would pay his respects to him every year, when he was in winter quarters. He then withdrew, and made his way to the hotel.
"It is done," he said to the count as he entered. "I have resigned my commission, and the king has accepted it. He was most kind. I am glad that I have done it, and yet it was a very hard thing to do."
Thirza uttered an exclamation of joy.
"I am glad, indeed, Fergus, that you are not going to that terrible war again."
"I can understand your feelings, Drummond," the count said, putting his hand upon his shoulder. "I know that it must have been a wrench to you, but that will pass off in a short time. You have done your duty nobly, and have fairly earned a rest.
"Now, let us talk of other things. When do you think of starting for Scotland?"
"To that I must reply," Fergus said with a smile, "'How long are you thinking of stopping here?' Assuredly I shall not want to be going, as long as you are here. And in any case, I should like my mother to have a week's notice before I come home; and I think that, in another fortnight, my wound will be completely healed."
"I was thinking," the count said, "that you will want to take a nurse with you."
"Do you mean, count," Fergus exclaimed eagerly, "that Thirza could go with me? That would be happiness, indeed."
"I don't quite see why she should not, Drummond. There are churches here, and clergymen.
"What do you say, Thirza?"
"Oh, father," the girl said, with a greatly heightened colour, "I could never be ready so soon as that!
"Could I, mother?"
"I don't know, my dear. Your father was talking to me an hour ago about it, and that was what I said; but he answered that, although you might not be able to get a great many clothes made, there will be plenty of time to get your things from home; and that, in some respects, it would be much more convenient for you to be married here than at Dresden. Your marriage, with one who had so lately left the service of Prussia, would hardly be a popular one with the Austrians in Dresden. So that, altogether, the plan would be convenient. We can set the milliners to work at once and, in another fortnight, get your bridal dress ready, and such things as are absolutely necessary.
"Of course, if you would rather remain single for another three or four months, your father and I would not wish to press you unduly."
"It is not that, mother," she said shyly; "but it does seem so very quick."
"If a thing is good, the sooner it is done the better," the count said; and Thirza offered no further objection.
The next day an order appeared, that Colonel Fergus Drummond had been advanced another step in the order of the Black Eagle, following which came: "Colonel Fergus Drummond, having lost an arm at the battle of Torgau, has resigned his commission; which has been accepted with great regret by the king, the services of Colonel Drummond having been, in the highest degree, meritorious and distinguished."
The king, having heard from the Earl Marischal that Fergus was to be married at Leipzig before leaving for Scotland, took great interest in the matter; and when the time came, was himself present in the cathedral, together with a brilliant gathering of generals and other officers of the army in the vicinity, and of many Saxon families of distinction who were acquainted with Count Eulenfurst. Fergus had obtained Karl's discharge from the army--the latter, who had long since served his full time, having begged most earnestly to remain in his service.
On the following day Fergus started with his wife for Scotland, drove to Magdeburg and, four days later, reached Hamburg; where they embarked on board a ship for Edinburgh, Karl of course accompanying them.
It was a day to be long remembered, in the glen, when Colonel Drummond and his Saxon wife came to take possession of his father's estates; where his mother had now been established for upwards of a year, in the old mansion. It was late when they arrived. A body of mounted men with torches met them, at the boundary of the estate; and accompanied them to the house, where all the tenants and clansmen were assembled. Great bonfires blazed, and scores of torches added to the picturesque effect. A party of pipers struck up an air of welcome as they drove forward, and a roar of cheering, and shouts of welcome greeted them.
"Welcome to your Scottish home!" Fergus said to his wife. " 'Tis a poor place, in comparison with your father's, but nowhere in the world will you find truer hearts and a warmer greeting than here."
His mother was standing on the steps as he leapt out, and she embraced him with tears of joy; while after him she gave a warm and affectionate greeting to Thirza. Then Fergus turned to the clansmen, who stood thronging round the entrance, with waving torches and bonnets thrown wildly in the air; and said a few words of thanks for their welcome, and of the pleasure and pride he felt in coming again among them, as the head of the clan and master of his father's estates.
Then he presented Thirza to them as their mistress.
"She has brought me another home, across the sea," he said, "but she will soon come to love this, as well as her own; and though I shall be absent part of the time, she will come with me every summer to stay among you, and will regard you as her people, as well as mine."
Among the dependents ranged in the hall was Wulf, with whom Fergus shook hands warmly.
"I should never have got on as well as I have, Wulf," he said, "had it not been for your teaching, both in German and in arms. I commend to your special care my servant Karl, who speaks no English, and will feel strange here at first. He has been my companion all this time, has given me most faithful service, and has saved my life more than once. He has now left the army to follow me."
Fergus remained three months at home. Thirza was delighted with the country, and the affection shown by the people to Fergus; and studied diligently to learn the language, that she might be able to communicate personally with them, and above all with Mrs. Drummond, to whom she speedily became much attached.
At the end of April they returned to Saxony, and took up their abode on the estate the count had settled on them, at their marriage.
For two years longer the war continued, but with much diminished fury, and there was no great battle fought. The king planted himself in a camp, which he rendered impregnable, and there menacing the routes by which the Saxon and Russian armies brought their supplies from Bohemia, paralysed their movements; while General Platen made a raid into Poland, and destroyed a great portion of the Russian magazines in that direction, so that the campaign came to naught. Ferdinand, with the aid of his English, defeated Broglio and Soubise at Villingshausen; Soubise remaining inactive during the battle, as Broglio had done at Minden.
At the beginning of 1762 a happy event for the king took place. The Empress of Russia died; and Peter, a great admirer of Frederick, came to the throne. The Prussian king at once released all the Russian prisoners, and sent them back; and Peter returned the compliment by sending home the Prussian prisoners and, six weeks after his accession, issued a declaration that there ought to be peace with the King of Prussia, and that the czar was resolved that the war should be ended. He at once gave up East Prussia and other conquests, and recalled the Russian army. He not only did this, but he ordered his General Czernichef to march and join the king.
The news caused absolute dismay in Austria, and hastened the Swedes to conclude a peace with Frederick. They had throughout the war done little, but the peace set free the force that had been watching them; and which had regularly, every year, driven them back as fast as they endeavoured to invade Prussia on that side.
In July, however, the murder of Peter threw all into confusion again; but Catherine had no desire to renew the war, and it was evident that this was approaching its end. She therefore recalled her army, which had already joined that of the king. England and France, too, were negotiating terms of peace; and it was clear that Austria, single handed, could not hope to win back Silesia.
The king gained several small but important successes, and recaptured the important fortress of Schweidnitz. Then came long negotiations and, on the following February, a general peace was signed by all the Powers; Prussia retaining her frontiers, as at the beginning of the war.
From this time Fergus Drummond's life passed uneventfully. Every year he went to his old home with his wife, and as time went on brought his children to Scotland; and every winter he spent a fortnight at Berlin. When his second son reached the age of twelve, he sent him to school in England, and there prepared him to succeed to the Scottish estate. This he did not do for many years, entering the British army and winning the rank of colonel in the Peninsular war; and it was not until some years after the battle of Waterloo that, at the death of his father, he retired and settled down on the Scottish estates that were now his.
The rest of Colonel Drummond's family took their mother's nationality.
Fergus did not come in for the whole of the Eulenfurst estates, until thirty years after his marriage. He then took up his abode, with his wife, at the mansion where they had first met, near Dresden; and retaining a sufficient share of the estates to support his position, divided the remainder among his children, considering that the property was too large to be owned with advantage by any one person. His descendants are still large landowners in various parts of Saxony.
The king survived the signature of the peace for twenty-five years, during which he devoted himself to repairing the damage his country had suffered by the war; and by incessant care, and wise reforms, he succeeded in rendering Prussia far wealthier and more prosperous than it had been when he succeeded to the throne. Lindsay rose to the rank of general in the Prussian service, and his friendship with Fergus remained close and unbroken. The old Earl Marischal survived his younger brother for twenty years; and was, to the last, one of the king's dearest and most intimate friends.
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