Chapter Thirty Two.Winks’s Sallys.The distance back to the hacienda seemed short enough, and in anticipation of his mission proving successful, the skipper had his first boat’s load told off ready for their start.“Well done! Splendid!” he said to the lads. “Off with you back. Take the command, Poole. Are you going again, Mr Burnett?”“Yes, sir; of course.”Fitz turned sharply round when he was addressed, from where he was standing with the carpenter, after noting that here and there at a distance a tiny fire was burning, indicating the different posts between them and the enemy, and just before Winks had come hurriedly up to him and given him a nudge.“I arn’t got them set up yet, sir,” he whispered, “but I’ve made four. Not much to look at, but they will be all right. Two crossed sticks, bamboos, blankets, and them Spanish hats. There’s two Sallys and two Guys. The Sallys has got the blankets right over the tops with the hats down close. They looks just like old women a little way off.—Going back again, sir?”“Yes,” replied Fitz. “We shan’t be very long this time.”“All right, sir. I shall have the traps set by the time you come again. My word! I should like to be there when the Span’ls finds they are nothing but a set of paddies. I should like to hear the words they said. It would be something pretty in bad Spanish, I’ll be bound.”“Now, Mr Burnett,” cried the skipper sharply, and somehow feeling as if he were one of the schooner’s officers, the middy hurried off, helping to guide the party, consisting of Don Ramon’s followers all but two, and succeeding in reaching the wharf without an adventure, the boat coming up at once on hearing their approach, and in a very short time loaded gunwale down, gliding off along the swift stream.“That’s one lot,” said Poole excitedly, as the stern of the boat disappeared. “Well, we had no orders, but of course we’ve got to go back for another lot and bring them down. I suppose we shall have them here long before the empty boat returns from the schooner.”“It will be a stiff pull against the stream,” said Fitz.“Yes, but empty, and I made them fully understand that they were to start back after shipping the men and communicating with old Burgess. I think that will turn out all right.”It did, and in due time a second load was despatched to the schooner, forming half the human cargo she would have to bear.They were anxious times during these journeys in the boat. All was going well, but at any moment the fiction of the watchers by the fires might have been discovered, and the enemy come on to the attack upon a force weakened first by one-fourth, then by half, and later on by three-fourths of its number, the danger increasing at a terrific ratio for those who were left. At last, still keeping manfully to their posts, the last portion—the last quarter of the little force—stood waiting, nearly all English, those of Spanish descent consisting of Don Ramon and his most staunch adherent.The skipper had urged him to go with the third party, but he had scornfully refused.“What!” he cried. “Provide for my safety, and leave you brave Englishmen to fight my battle all alone! Bah! You would never be able to call me friend again. But tell me this: why did you not go yourself and leave me to guard the hacienda till the boat came back?—Hah! You say nothing! You cannot. No, I shall stay, and we will escape together, ready to sail round, seize Velova, and meet mine enemies when they return.”The peril seemed to increase minute by minute, as the little party watched, straining their ears in the darkness to catch the slightest sound, while it seemed hours since the last party had left them, and they awaited the coming of the two lads to announce that the boat had returned.It was weary work for these goers to and fro, but excitement and exertion kept them from feeling the agony of the Englishmen who, apparently calm, kept watch and ward at the hacienda, while from time to time the skipper and Winks went from fire to fire, mending them and arranging more fuel so that when they were left for good they might still keep burning.They had been round for the last visit, and returned to the hacienda, walking very slowly, and pausing from time to time to listen for any movement in the enemy’s lines, and at last they stopped short close to the spot where the carpenter had destroyed the snake, when after standing for some time listening to a faint murmur of voices close at hand, coming from the waiting crew, the carpenter uttered a peculiar husky cough. It was so strange and unnatural that the skipper put the right interpretation upon it at once.“Yes?” he said. “You wanted to ask me something?”“Yes, sir. It’s this waiting makes me want to speak. I can’t stand the doing nothing at a time like this. I’d ten times rather be on the fight.”“So would I, Winks, if you come to that. It’s a cruel strain, my lad. Worse than being in the wildest storm. But go on; what did you want to say?”“Oh, only this, sir. I want you to give me orders to go round again and give the fires a poke. You needn’t come, sir. You are wanted here. You can trust me to do the lot.”“Yes, I know that,” said the skipper sternly; “but that isn’t all. You were thinking something else, and now it’s come to the point you are afraid to speak.”“How did you know that, sir?” said the man huskily.“By your manner and the tone of your voice. What is it you are thinking? Out with it at once.”“Well, sir, I dunno how you come to know, but it has come over me just lately like a skeer. Aren’t the young gents been much longer this time?”“Yes, much,” replied the skipper; “or else it seems to be.”“I thought so, sir, and I’ve got so now that I feels as if I can’t bear it. What are you going to do, sir? Follow ’em up and see what’s wrong?”“I shall give them ten minutes longer, Winks. I meant to stay here to the very last, ready to give the enemy a volley and a check if they should come on; but now the time has come to hurry on to the wharf and wait there in the hope that the boat may still come and take us off without further waste of time.”“But don’t let me make you downhearted, sir,” said the carpenter, trying to speak cheerily. “I’m a bit of an old woman in my ways sometimes. Maybe it’s all right, after all.”“Maybe it is,” said the skipper. “We are tired out and over-anxious now. It’s quite possible that we shall have them back here soon.”“Pst!” whispered the carpenter. “There’s some one coming.”It was from their rear, and the next moment they were joined by Don Ramon.“Ah, you are here,” he said. “Is it not time that the boys came back?”“Nearly,” said the skipper quietly.“No, no,” said Don Ramon; “they have been twice too long. Something must have happened, or they would have come by now.”“Pst! Look out!” whispered the carpenter, and he cocked his rifle. “No: all right,” he continued. “It’s not from the enemy’s side.”He was quite right, for directly after the two boys trotted up.“All right, father,” cried Poole. “The boat’s back.”“We thought she would never have come,” added Fitz. “They have had a very hard pull up stream, for the water has risen, and they thought that they’d never get to the landing-place.”“But they are there!” cried the skipper eagerly. “What about the others? Have they got on board?”“Everything was going right, father. I had a few words with Butters, and he was very eager to know how soon I could get you all down.”“And you couldn’t tell him?”“No, father.—I think that’s all.”“Bravo! Magnificent!” cried Don Ramon. “You have both done wonders,” and to the lads’ disgust he caught them in turn to his breast and kissed them. “It is grand, and your fathers should be proud. My lads, it is the grandest thing in life to be a Spaniard of pure Castilian descent, but next to that the greatest thing in the world is to be an English boy.”“This is no time for compliments, Don Ramon,” said the skipper sternly. “They have done their duty; that is all. Now then, will you lead on at once with half our party, and I with the rest will form the rear-guard. If even now the enemy come up we shall be able to hold them in check. We shall fire, and then double past you and your party, who will halt and fire, and then retire past us again. We are very few and they are many, but I think we can reach the boat in safety after all.”The Don made no reply, but put himself at the head of his little party at once, leaving the skipper, the two lads, and the remainder facing the enemy’s camp and watching the flickering fires between, the hardest task of all when the way was open and they felt that with a good rush they might reach the boat in safety.But discipline was master, and fighting down all desire to break away, the remnant of the little force stood waiting, while the carpenter made a last effort to find himself something to do, by suggesting that it would be best perhaps to give them there fires just another touch.“No,” said the skipper sternly. “In another two minutes we shall follow on.”“Thank goodness!” whispered Fitz excitedly. “I don’t feel as if I could stand any more.”“Not even one of Don Ramon’s speeches and a hug?”“Oh, don’t talk about it,” whispered Fitz angrily.“What! Isn’t it grand to be an English boy?”“Bosh!” cried Fitz, and like an echo of his ejaculation came the skipper’s command—“Forward!” And directly afterwards, “Poole—Mr Burnett—will you watch with me?”The lads stepped to his side at once.“The last to turn our backs, Fitz Burnett,” whispered Poole. “The place of honour after all.”
The distance back to the hacienda seemed short enough, and in anticipation of his mission proving successful, the skipper had his first boat’s load told off ready for their start.
“Well done! Splendid!” he said to the lads. “Off with you back. Take the command, Poole. Are you going again, Mr Burnett?”
“Yes, sir; of course.”
Fitz turned sharply round when he was addressed, from where he was standing with the carpenter, after noting that here and there at a distance a tiny fire was burning, indicating the different posts between them and the enemy, and just before Winks had come hurriedly up to him and given him a nudge.
“I arn’t got them set up yet, sir,” he whispered, “but I’ve made four. Not much to look at, but they will be all right. Two crossed sticks, bamboos, blankets, and them Spanish hats. There’s two Sallys and two Guys. The Sallys has got the blankets right over the tops with the hats down close. They looks just like old women a little way off.—Going back again, sir?”
“Yes,” replied Fitz. “We shan’t be very long this time.”
“All right, sir. I shall have the traps set by the time you come again. My word! I should like to be there when the Span’ls finds they are nothing but a set of paddies. I should like to hear the words they said. It would be something pretty in bad Spanish, I’ll be bound.”
“Now, Mr Burnett,” cried the skipper sharply, and somehow feeling as if he were one of the schooner’s officers, the middy hurried off, helping to guide the party, consisting of Don Ramon’s followers all but two, and succeeding in reaching the wharf without an adventure, the boat coming up at once on hearing their approach, and in a very short time loaded gunwale down, gliding off along the swift stream.
“That’s one lot,” said Poole excitedly, as the stern of the boat disappeared. “Well, we had no orders, but of course we’ve got to go back for another lot and bring them down. I suppose we shall have them here long before the empty boat returns from the schooner.”
“It will be a stiff pull against the stream,” said Fitz.
“Yes, but empty, and I made them fully understand that they were to start back after shipping the men and communicating with old Burgess. I think that will turn out all right.”
It did, and in due time a second load was despatched to the schooner, forming half the human cargo she would have to bear.
They were anxious times during these journeys in the boat. All was going well, but at any moment the fiction of the watchers by the fires might have been discovered, and the enemy come on to the attack upon a force weakened first by one-fourth, then by half, and later on by three-fourths of its number, the danger increasing at a terrific ratio for those who were left. At last, still keeping manfully to their posts, the last portion—the last quarter of the little force—stood waiting, nearly all English, those of Spanish descent consisting of Don Ramon and his most staunch adherent.
The skipper had urged him to go with the third party, but he had scornfully refused.
“What!” he cried. “Provide for my safety, and leave you brave Englishmen to fight my battle all alone! Bah! You would never be able to call me friend again. But tell me this: why did you not go yourself and leave me to guard the hacienda till the boat came back?—Hah! You say nothing! You cannot. No, I shall stay, and we will escape together, ready to sail round, seize Velova, and meet mine enemies when they return.”
The peril seemed to increase minute by minute, as the little party watched, straining their ears in the darkness to catch the slightest sound, while it seemed hours since the last party had left them, and they awaited the coming of the two lads to announce that the boat had returned.
It was weary work for these goers to and fro, but excitement and exertion kept them from feeling the agony of the Englishmen who, apparently calm, kept watch and ward at the hacienda, while from time to time the skipper and Winks went from fire to fire, mending them and arranging more fuel so that when they were left for good they might still keep burning.
They had been round for the last visit, and returned to the hacienda, walking very slowly, and pausing from time to time to listen for any movement in the enemy’s lines, and at last they stopped short close to the spot where the carpenter had destroyed the snake, when after standing for some time listening to a faint murmur of voices close at hand, coming from the waiting crew, the carpenter uttered a peculiar husky cough. It was so strange and unnatural that the skipper put the right interpretation upon it at once.
“Yes?” he said. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“Yes, sir. It’s this waiting makes me want to speak. I can’t stand the doing nothing at a time like this. I’d ten times rather be on the fight.”
“So would I, Winks, if you come to that. It’s a cruel strain, my lad. Worse than being in the wildest storm. But go on; what did you want to say?”
“Oh, only this, sir. I want you to give me orders to go round again and give the fires a poke. You needn’t come, sir. You are wanted here. You can trust me to do the lot.”
“Yes, I know that,” said the skipper sternly; “but that isn’t all. You were thinking something else, and now it’s come to the point you are afraid to speak.”
“How did you know that, sir?” said the man huskily.
“By your manner and the tone of your voice. What is it you are thinking? Out with it at once.”
“Well, sir, I dunno how you come to know, but it has come over me just lately like a skeer. Aren’t the young gents been much longer this time?”
“Yes, much,” replied the skipper; “or else it seems to be.”
“I thought so, sir, and I’ve got so now that I feels as if I can’t bear it. What are you going to do, sir? Follow ’em up and see what’s wrong?”
“I shall give them ten minutes longer, Winks. I meant to stay here to the very last, ready to give the enemy a volley and a check if they should come on; but now the time has come to hurry on to the wharf and wait there in the hope that the boat may still come and take us off without further waste of time.”
“But don’t let me make you downhearted, sir,” said the carpenter, trying to speak cheerily. “I’m a bit of an old woman in my ways sometimes. Maybe it’s all right, after all.”
“Maybe it is,” said the skipper. “We are tired out and over-anxious now. It’s quite possible that we shall have them back here soon.”
“Pst!” whispered the carpenter. “There’s some one coming.”
It was from their rear, and the next moment they were joined by Don Ramon.
“Ah, you are here,” he said. “Is it not time that the boys came back?”
“Nearly,” said the skipper quietly.
“No, no,” said Don Ramon; “they have been twice too long. Something must have happened, or they would have come by now.”
“Pst! Look out!” whispered the carpenter, and he cocked his rifle. “No: all right,” he continued. “It’s not from the enemy’s side.”
He was quite right, for directly after the two boys trotted up.
“All right, father,” cried Poole. “The boat’s back.”
“We thought she would never have come,” added Fitz. “They have had a very hard pull up stream, for the water has risen, and they thought that they’d never get to the landing-place.”
“But they are there!” cried the skipper eagerly. “What about the others? Have they got on board?”
“Everything was going right, father. I had a few words with Butters, and he was very eager to know how soon I could get you all down.”
“And you couldn’t tell him?”
“No, father.—I think that’s all.”
“Bravo! Magnificent!” cried Don Ramon. “You have both done wonders,” and to the lads’ disgust he caught them in turn to his breast and kissed them. “It is grand, and your fathers should be proud. My lads, it is the grandest thing in life to be a Spaniard of pure Castilian descent, but next to that the greatest thing in the world is to be an English boy.”
“This is no time for compliments, Don Ramon,” said the skipper sternly. “They have done their duty; that is all. Now then, will you lead on at once with half our party, and I with the rest will form the rear-guard. If even now the enemy come up we shall be able to hold them in check. We shall fire, and then double past you and your party, who will halt and fire, and then retire past us again. We are very few and they are many, but I think we can reach the boat in safety after all.”
The Don made no reply, but put himself at the head of his little party at once, leaving the skipper, the two lads, and the remainder facing the enemy’s camp and watching the flickering fires between, the hardest task of all when the way was open and they felt that with a good rush they might reach the boat in safety.
But discipline was master, and fighting down all desire to break away, the remnant of the little force stood waiting, while the carpenter made a last effort to find himself something to do, by suggesting that it would be best perhaps to give them there fires just another touch.
“No,” said the skipper sternly. “In another two minutes we shall follow on.”
“Thank goodness!” whispered Fitz excitedly. “I don’t feel as if I could stand any more.”
“Not even one of Don Ramon’s speeches and a hug?”
“Oh, don’t talk about it,” whispered Fitz angrily.
“What! Isn’t it grand to be an English boy?”
“Bosh!” cried Fitz, and like an echo of his ejaculation came the skipper’s command—
“Forward!” And directly afterwards, “Poole—Mr Burnett—will you watch with me?”
The lads stepped to his side at once.
“The last to turn our backs, Fitz Burnett,” whispered Poole. “The place of honour after all.”
Chapter Thirty Three.Aboard again.The little party strained their ears as they tramped silently on towards the boat; but not a sound was heard suggesting that the enemy grasped the fact that the strategy had been cleverly carried out. The dull reflection of the fires had from time to time been faintly discernible upon the low-hanging mist; but this soon died out, and fortune seemed to be smiling kindly upon their efforts now.“I’d give something to know what time it is,” whispered Poole, and he took a step nearer to his father to ask him how long he thought it would be before day.“I haven’t the least idea, my boy,” he replied. “The night has seemed far too short, but it must be nearly at an end. But if we can once get into the boat and reach the schooner I shall begin to hope that we may reach Velova before the enemy.”“We have got much farther to go than they have, though, father.”“Yes, and everything will depend upon how long it is before the reinforcements come and they make their advance. It may be hours yet, and it may be before the break of day. There, don’t talk to me again, my lad; I want to think.”So it was in silence and darkness that the corduroy road was traversed, and the rear-guard reached the little wharf to find the advance gathered-together, waiting to fire or descend at once into the boat.There was not a sound to be heard from the direction by which they had come, and the skipper giving the order to embark at once, the men stepped down carefully and well, till, dangerously packed, the order was given to push off, Poole and Fitz being together in the stern, where the skipper passed out an oar to steer, and they began rapidly to descend the flooded stream.“There must have been rain in the mountains,” he said quietly, and then aloud, “Sit fast, my lads, and keep her well in trim. Two oars out there, just to give me steering way, but you need hardly pull. Everything depends upon your keeping steady. There, boys,” he said, to those at his side, “we are none too soon. It’s lightening yonder in the east.”That morning the sun, as it rose high above the mist, shone down upon the crowded decks of the schooner, her white sails glistening as the land was left behind, with Poole and Fitz Burnett using the glass in turn to watch the mouth of the little river; but they watched in vain, for there was no sign of enemy hurrying to the bank, nothing to disturb the peace and beauty of the scene.Poole scuffled up to the masthead, glass in hand, and Fitz Burnett followed him, to stand as near as he could, with the ratlines cutting into his feet and a crick coming in the back of his neck, as he held on tightly, and leaned back watching his companion’s action, longing to get hold of the glass and use it himself. In fact, he was suffering from that impatience which often attacks us all and makes us feel as we watch another’s action how much better we could do it ourselves, from the greatest matter down to such a trifle us untying a knot in a piece of string. Meanwhile, with the white sails swelling out above and below, and the double glass to his eye, the skipper’s son was slowly sweeping the coast-line, letting nothing escape him, as he looked in vain for some sign of the enemy.“See her, my boy?” came from the deck, and Fitz looked down, to see that the skipper and Don Ramon were watching them.“No, father,” cried Poole. “I wasn’t looking out to sea.”“Then why don’t you?” cried the skipper angrily. “Are you trying to see cocoanuts on the trees? Sweep the horizon, sir, and give us the first notice of that gunboat’s masts.”“All right, father,” said the lad quietly, and he wrenched himself round and made the lenses of the binocular slowly travel along the horizon-line, as he rocked gently here and there with the action of the schooner riding swiftly over the long smooth swell; for there was a pleasant breeze, all possible sail was set, and they were rapidly diminishing the distance between them and Velova Bay.“See her?” said Fitz, as he noted that the skipper and his Spanish friend had walked together forward—Don Ramon’s followers, who crowded the deck and sent up scores of tiny films of smoke from their cigarettes, politely making way and forming quite a lane for their leaders.They were idling, chattering, and laughing together, the very types of a party of idlers out on a sea-trip, and their rifles were leaning against the bulwarks here and there, lying about the deck, or stuck in sheaves together with their barrels appearing above the sides of the boats swinging from the davits.No one could have imagined from their careless indolent bearing that they were posing as patriots, men who a short time before had escaped from a deadly peril, and were now for aught they knew sailing straight away into one as great.They formed a strong contrast to the old men-of-war’s men, who retained their well-drilled bearing as the crew of the schooner, eager, alert, and ready at any moment to spring to sheet and brace at the mate’s orders when they went upon another tack.“No,” replied Poole, after a long interval. “There’s a shoal of fish out yonder, and something sprang out farther to the east and went in again with a splash, and there’s a bad sign out yonder; cat’s-paws on the surface.”“You don’t mean to say that it looks like a calm coming?”“Just like that,” said Poole slowly, with the glass still at his eye.“Well?” rose from the deck, as the two chiefs came slowly back.“Nothing, father—not a sign,” cried Poole. “Well, you needn’t stop up there, my lad. Come down, and go up again in a quarter of an hour’s time.”Poole slipped the glass into the case slung from his left shoulder, laid hold of a rope, and looked at his companion, who did the same, and they slid down together and dropped upon the deck, to begin walking forward.“I shan’t be sorry,” said Poole quietly, “when all these fellows are ashore.”“Nor I neither,” replied Fitz, and then he turned his head sharply, for a familiar head was thrust out of the galley, where the stove was black and cold.“Weel, laddies,” whispered the Camel, “I have had to put up the shutters and shut up shop, for I canna pretend to feed all this lot; but ah’m thenking ye’ll feel a bit hungry now and then, and when ye do, joost go below into the cahbin when there’s naebody looking, and open the little locker. I dinna mean to say another word, but—” He closed one ferrety-looking red eye, laid a finger alongside of his nose, showed his big teeth, and drew his head in again.“A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse,” said Poole, laughing. “Well done, Camel! But that’s all you, Fitz.”“Nonsense! It was a hint for both.”“No. He has taken a fancy to you. He told me himself he had, and that it was his doing that you got up your strength so quickly.”“Oh, gammon!” cried Fitz petulantly.“No, it was what he calls his pheesic. He told me that when a man was in bad health—crenky, he called it—that the thing to pull him round was soup; and you know how he was always scheming something of the kind for you. I shouldn’t like to analyse too strictly what he made it of.”“Why, meat, of course,” cried the middy. “I don’t know,” said Poole dryly. “You see, it’s not like being ashore; but you had soup pretty well every day, and you said yourself that it tasted all right. But it doesn’t matter. It did you good.”“Don’t you think we had better change the subject?” said Fitz sharply. “Yes; and we’ll go up aloft again. Coming?”“Of course,” was the reply.They turned back to go aft towards the mainmast-shrouds, Don Ramon’s followers making room for them to pass; but as they reached the part of the deck where they were going to ascend, they came upon the boatswain looking as black as thunder.“Hullo, Butters! Anything the matter?” said Poole. “Matter!” growled the copper-faced old fellow. “Look at my deck—I mean, as much of it as you can see. I am pretty nigh sick of this! A set of jabbering monkeys; that’s about what they are.”“Up aloft again, Poole?” cried the skipper. “Just going,” was the reply, and giving up his place by the starboard main-shrouds to Fitz, the lad ran across the deck to the port side, where he began to ascend, the pair meeting at the masthead upon equal terms. “Here, I’d give up the glass to you,” cried Poole, “but father mightn’t like it, though your eyes are as sharp or sharper than mine. I’ll give one sweep round and report to the deck, and then you shall have a turn.”Poole passed his arm round a stay and raised the glass to his eyes, while Fitz took a turn round the rope with one leg, and waited, thinking.“Isn’t such a bad fellow,” he said to himself, as he watched the captain’s son, “but he’s getting a little too familiar. He seems to forget sometimes that I’m an officer; but there, it doesn’t much matter, and it won’t last long.”“Well, my lad?” came from the deck.“All clear, father,” was the reply, and as Fitz glanced down he saw Don Ramon place the cigarette he was holding between his teeth and clap his hands, while from his crowd of followers who were looking on there ascended a loudViva!And the hot day glided on.There was a fair breeze, and the schooner fairly danced over the laughing waters, sending shoals of flying-fish skimming out before them, with their wing-like fins glistening like those of gigantic dragon-flies, before they dropped back into the sea.Rations were served out to the eager crowd, and a buzz of conversation was kept up, to ascend to the two lads, who spent most of their time aloft, watching, talking, and comparing notes about what a peaceful time it seemed and how strange a contrast to the excitement of the previous day and night.“It’s too good to be true, my lads,” said the skipper quietly, as the afternoon glided by. “We have made such a splendid run that it isn’t reasonable to expect fortune will favour us much farther.”“Ah, you think that?” said Don Ramon, who came up rolling a fresh cigarette.“Yes, sir, I do. In another hour we shall be round that headland, and in sight of Velova if the mate keeps us clear of that long reef of rocks which guards the bay.”“Ah, and then you think Villarayo will be waiting for us with his men?”“Oh no,” said the skipper; “I can’t say for certain, but I should doubt whether he has found out as yet that we are gone. I feel certain now that he would not stir till all his reinforcements had reached him.”“That is right,” said the Don eagerly, “and even then—I know our people well—they will fight bravely twice, but it is very hard to move them again. But you spoke as if youwerein doubt. What is it you expect?”“I expect, sir, that as soon as we get round that headland we shall see the gunboat waiting for us, and ready to open fire. And once she gets well within range—”Reed stopped. “Yes, what then?” cried Don Ramon eagerly. The skipper shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do, sir, with my schooner crowded up like this?”“Fly,” said the Don, with his eyes flashing. “Of course; there is nothing else to be done. But if they have decent men to work that gun, one well-placed shot or shell will wreck my rigging, and we shall lie like a wounded bird upon the water.”The Don looked fixedly in the skipper’s face for some moments before giving him a short nod and turning away to light his cigarette.
The little party strained their ears as they tramped silently on towards the boat; but not a sound was heard suggesting that the enemy grasped the fact that the strategy had been cleverly carried out. The dull reflection of the fires had from time to time been faintly discernible upon the low-hanging mist; but this soon died out, and fortune seemed to be smiling kindly upon their efforts now.
“I’d give something to know what time it is,” whispered Poole, and he took a step nearer to his father to ask him how long he thought it would be before day.
“I haven’t the least idea, my boy,” he replied. “The night has seemed far too short, but it must be nearly at an end. But if we can once get into the boat and reach the schooner I shall begin to hope that we may reach Velova before the enemy.”
“We have got much farther to go than they have, though, father.”
“Yes, and everything will depend upon how long it is before the reinforcements come and they make their advance. It may be hours yet, and it may be before the break of day. There, don’t talk to me again, my lad; I want to think.”
So it was in silence and darkness that the corduroy road was traversed, and the rear-guard reached the little wharf to find the advance gathered-together, waiting to fire or descend at once into the boat.
There was not a sound to be heard from the direction by which they had come, and the skipper giving the order to embark at once, the men stepped down carefully and well, till, dangerously packed, the order was given to push off, Poole and Fitz being together in the stern, where the skipper passed out an oar to steer, and they began rapidly to descend the flooded stream.
“There must have been rain in the mountains,” he said quietly, and then aloud, “Sit fast, my lads, and keep her well in trim. Two oars out there, just to give me steering way, but you need hardly pull. Everything depends upon your keeping steady. There, boys,” he said, to those at his side, “we are none too soon. It’s lightening yonder in the east.”
That morning the sun, as it rose high above the mist, shone down upon the crowded decks of the schooner, her white sails glistening as the land was left behind, with Poole and Fitz Burnett using the glass in turn to watch the mouth of the little river; but they watched in vain, for there was no sign of enemy hurrying to the bank, nothing to disturb the peace and beauty of the scene.
Poole scuffled up to the masthead, glass in hand, and Fitz Burnett followed him, to stand as near as he could, with the ratlines cutting into his feet and a crick coming in the back of his neck, as he held on tightly, and leaned back watching his companion’s action, longing to get hold of the glass and use it himself. In fact, he was suffering from that impatience which often attacks us all and makes us feel as we watch another’s action how much better we could do it ourselves, from the greatest matter down to such a trifle us untying a knot in a piece of string. Meanwhile, with the white sails swelling out above and below, and the double glass to his eye, the skipper’s son was slowly sweeping the coast-line, letting nothing escape him, as he looked in vain for some sign of the enemy.
“See her, my boy?” came from the deck, and Fitz looked down, to see that the skipper and Don Ramon were watching them.
“No, father,” cried Poole. “I wasn’t looking out to sea.”
“Then why don’t you?” cried the skipper angrily. “Are you trying to see cocoanuts on the trees? Sweep the horizon, sir, and give us the first notice of that gunboat’s masts.”
“All right, father,” said the lad quietly, and he wrenched himself round and made the lenses of the binocular slowly travel along the horizon-line, as he rocked gently here and there with the action of the schooner riding swiftly over the long smooth swell; for there was a pleasant breeze, all possible sail was set, and they were rapidly diminishing the distance between them and Velova Bay.
“See her?” said Fitz, as he noted that the skipper and his Spanish friend had walked together forward—Don Ramon’s followers, who crowded the deck and sent up scores of tiny films of smoke from their cigarettes, politely making way and forming quite a lane for their leaders.
They were idling, chattering, and laughing together, the very types of a party of idlers out on a sea-trip, and their rifles were leaning against the bulwarks here and there, lying about the deck, or stuck in sheaves together with their barrels appearing above the sides of the boats swinging from the davits.
No one could have imagined from their careless indolent bearing that they were posing as patriots, men who a short time before had escaped from a deadly peril, and were now for aught they knew sailing straight away into one as great.
They formed a strong contrast to the old men-of-war’s men, who retained their well-drilled bearing as the crew of the schooner, eager, alert, and ready at any moment to spring to sheet and brace at the mate’s orders when they went upon another tack.
“No,” replied Poole, after a long interval. “There’s a shoal of fish out yonder, and something sprang out farther to the east and went in again with a splash, and there’s a bad sign out yonder; cat’s-paws on the surface.”
“You don’t mean to say that it looks like a calm coming?”
“Just like that,” said Poole slowly, with the glass still at his eye.
“Well?” rose from the deck, as the two chiefs came slowly back.
“Nothing, father—not a sign,” cried Poole. “Well, you needn’t stop up there, my lad. Come down, and go up again in a quarter of an hour’s time.”
Poole slipped the glass into the case slung from his left shoulder, laid hold of a rope, and looked at his companion, who did the same, and they slid down together and dropped upon the deck, to begin walking forward.
“I shan’t be sorry,” said Poole quietly, “when all these fellows are ashore.”
“Nor I neither,” replied Fitz, and then he turned his head sharply, for a familiar head was thrust out of the galley, where the stove was black and cold.
“Weel, laddies,” whispered the Camel, “I have had to put up the shutters and shut up shop, for I canna pretend to feed all this lot; but ah’m thenking ye’ll feel a bit hungry now and then, and when ye do, joost go below into the cahbin when there’s naebody looking, and open the little locker. I dinna mean to say another word, but—” He closed one ferrety-looking red eye, laid a finger alongside of his nose, showed his big teeth, and drew his head in again.
“A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse,” said Poole, laughing. “Well done, Camel! But that’s all you, Fitz.”
“Nonsense! It was a hint for both.”
“No. He has taken a fancy to you. He told me himself he had, and that it was his doing that you got up your strength so quickly.”
“Oh, gammon!” cried Fitz petulantly.
“No, it was what he calls his pheesic. He told me that when a man was in bad health—crenky, he called it—that the thing to pull him round was soup; and you know how he was always scheming something of the kind for you. I shouldn’t like to analyse too strictly what he made it of.”
“Why, meat, of course,” cried the middy. “I don’t know,” said Poole dryly. “You see, it’s not like being ashore; but you had soup pretty well every day, and you said yourself that it tasted all right. But it doesn’t matter. It did you good.”
“Don’t you think we had better change the subject?” said Fitz sharply. “Yes; and we’ll go up aloft again. Coming?”
“Of course,” was the reply.
They turned back to go aft towards the mainmast-shrouds, Don Ramon’s followers making room for them to pass; but as they reached the part of the deck where they were going to ascend, they came upon the boatswain looking as black as thunder.
“Hullo, Butters! Anything the matter?” said Poole. “Matter!” growled the copper-faced old fellow. “Look at my deck—I mean, as much of it as you can see. I am pretty nigh sick of this! A set of jabbering monkeys; that’s about what they are.”
“Up aloft again, Poole?” cried the skipper. “Just going,” was the reply, and giving up his place by the starboard main-shrouds to Fitz, the lad ran across the deck to the port side, where he began to ascend, the pair meeting at the masthead upon equal terms. “Here, I’d give up the glass to you,” cried Poole, “but father mightn’t like it, though your eyes are as sharp or sharper than mine. I’ll give one sweep round and report to the deck, and then you shall have a turn.”
Poole passed his arm round a stay and raised the glass to his eyes, while Fitz took a turn round the rope with one leg, and waited, thinking.
“Isn’t such a bad fellow,” he said to himself, as he watched the captain’s son, “but he’s getting a little too familiar. He seems to forget sometimes that I’m an officer; but there, it doesn’t much matter, and it won’t last long.”
“Well, my lad?” came from the deck.
“All clear, father,” was the reply, and as Fitz glanced down he saw Don Ramon place the cigarette he was holding between his teeth and clap his hands, while from his crowd of followers who were looking on there ascended a loudViva!
And the hot day glided on.
There was a fair breeze, and the schooner fairly danced over the laughing waters, sending shoals of flying-fish skimming out before them, with their wing-like fins glistening like those of gigantic dragon-flies, before they dropped back into the sea.
Rations were served out to the eager crowd, and a buzz of conversation was kept up, to ascend to the two lads, who spent most of their time aloft, watching, talking, and comparing notes about what a peaceful time it seemed and how strange a contrast to the excitement of the previous day and night.
“It’s too good to be true, my lads,” said the skipper quietly, as the afternoon glided by. “We have made such a splendid run that it isn’t reasonable to expect fortune will favour us much farther.”
“Ah, you think that?” said Don Ramon, who came up rolling a fresh cigarette.
“Yes, sir, I do. In another hour we shall be round that headland, and in sight of Velova if the mate keeps us clear of that long reef of rocks which guards the bay.”
“Ah, and then you think Villarayo will be waiting for us with his men?”
“Oh no,” said the skipper; “I can’t say for certain, but I should doubt whether he has found out as yet that we are gone. I feel certain now that he would not stir till all his reinforcements had reached him.”
“That is right,” said the Don eagerly, “and even then—I know our people well—they will fight bravely twice, but it is very hard to move them again. But you spoke as if youwerein doubt. What is it you expect?”
“I expect, sir, that as soon as we get round that headland we shall see the gunboat waiting for us, and ready to open fire. And once she gets well within range—”
Reed stopped. “Yes, what then?” cried Don Ramon eagerly. The skipper shrugged his shoulders. “What can we do, sir, with my schooner crowded up like this?”
“Fly,” said the Don, with his eyes flashing. “Of course; there is nothing else to be done. But if they have decent men to work that gun, one well-placed shot or shell will wreck my rigging, and we shall lie like a wounded bird upon the water.”
The Don looked fixedly in the skipper’s face for some moments before giving him a short nod and turning away to light his cigarette.
Chapter Thirty Four.No Burgess aboard.But the skipper’s forebodings were needless. As they sailed round the headland it was through a sea of golden light. There lay Velova with every window flashing in the late afternoon sunshine. Small coasting vessels were at anchor, boats were putting out to sea to reach the fishing-grounds; and, save that through the glass a few figures could be seen about the little fort with its flagstaff flying the national colours, and the rough earthworks could be made out mounting a few small guns, all was calm and peaceful.“There, captain,” cried Don Ramon triumphantly, “what do you say now?”“It is for you to speak, sir. What do you say now?”“Sail right in as close up to the wharf as you can get; you can lay your vessel alongside in these calm waters.”“And if they open fire?”“They will not dare,” cried the Don, his eyes flashing with excitement. “We must be first, and there will be scarcely any one there.”“But if they did, sir?”“If they did, my men would crowd into your boats, we should row ashore and carry the fort and earthworks. We can do that with ease while you come right on to where we will meet you, and help to land the guns. Captain Reed, our young friend’s plans have opened the way to triumph. You will see that all the people in Velova now will declare for me. I shall arm them with the rifles you have brought, strengthen the fort and earthworks, and plant three of the pieces upon the road leading to the mountain-pass by which the enemy are bound to come. Let them attack then if they dare. Do you see? Do you understand?” he added quickly.“Yes. Excellent. Nothing could be better than your plan, sir; and if Villarayo should not arrive till morning the game would be your own.”“Would be! Will be,” said the Spaniard fiercely. “What is to prevent it now?”The skipper glanced round as they stood together aft, and saving the two lads there was no one to overhear his words, as he leaned a little nearer to the excited Spaniard and said, almost in a whisper—“The gunboat.”There was a faint click. Don Ramon had closed his teeth sharply, and he turned half round to gaze out to sea. The next minute he turned back with his brow knit and his eyes half-closed.“Yes, my good friend,” he said quietly; “that is the great enemy. Ah! if you could show me how to get control of that it would mean all. Still I do not despair. She is not here now, and there is the land, the country all before me. Let her keep away till after Villarayo has returned, and I have scattered all his horde of ruffians, the sweepings of the place—as I shall, for once I have landed with my warlike supplies, all that is good and true in Velova will fight for me to the death—and then the march to San Cristobal will be an easy task. The news that Villarayo and his people are scattered will go before me, and the people there will crowd to me for arms, the arms that I shall send round by your vessel to meet me there. Oh, it will be all child’s play now, and in another few days my flag will be flying at San Cristobal, as it will be flying here.”“If,” said Fitz quietly to Poole, as the Spaniard walked forward to address his men, “he is not counting his chickens before they are hatched.”“Yes,” said the skipper, who had heard his words; “and if the gunboat does not return.”“Well, father, there are some things in his favour,” said Poole, “even about the gunboat.”“What?”“This is a very rocky coast. That gunboat must draw a good deal of water.”“True, my boy; true.”“And, father,” said Poole, with a smile, “they haven’t got a Burgess on board.”
But the skipper’s forebodings were needless. As they sailed round the headland it was through a sea of golden light. There lay Velova with every window flashing in the late afternoon sunshine. Small coasting vessels were at anchor, boats were putting out to sea to reach the fishing-grounds; and, save that through the glass a few figures could be seen about the little fort with its flagstaff flying the national colours, and the rough earthworks could be made out mounting a few small guns, all was calm and peaceful.
“There, captain,” cried Don Ramon triumphantly, “what do you say now?”
“It is for you to speak, sir. What do you say now?”
“Sail right in as close up to the wharf as you can get; you can lay your vessel alongside in these calm waters.”
“And if they open fire?”
“They will not dare,” cried the Don, his eyes flashing with excitement. “We must be first, and there will be scarcely any one there.”
“But if they did, sir?”
“If they did, my men would crowd into your boats, we should row ashore and carry the fort and earthworks. We can do that with ease while you come right on to where we will meet you, and help to land the guns. Captain Reed, our young friend’s plans have opened the way to triumph. You will see that all the people in Velova now will declare for me. I shall arm them with the rifles you have brought, strengthen the fort and earthworks, and plant three of the pieces upon the road leading to the mountain-pass by which the enemy are bound to come. Let them attack then if they dare. Do you see? Do you understand?” he added quickly.
“Yes. Excellent. Nothing could be better than your plan, sir; and if Villarayo should not arrive till morning the game would be your own.”
“Would be! Will be,” said the Spaniard fiercely. “What is to prevent it now?”
The skipper glanced round as they stood together aft, and saving the two lads there was no one to overhear his words, as he leaned a little nearer to the excited Spaniard and said, almost in a whisper—
“The gunboat.”
There was a faint click. Don Ramon had closed his teeth sharply, and he turned half round to gaze out to sea. The next minute he turned back with his brow knit and his eyes half-closed.
“Yes, my good friend,” he said quietly; “that is the great enemy. Ah! if you could show me how to get control of that it would mean all. Still I do not despair. She is not here now, and there is the land, the country all before me. Let her keep away till after Villarayo has returned, and I have scattered all his horde of ruffians, the sweepings of the place—as I shall, for once I have landed with my warlike supplies, all that is good and true in Velova will fight for me to the death—and then the march to San Cristobal will be an easy task. The news that Villarayo and his people are scattered will go before me, and the people there will crowd to me for arms, the arms that I shall send round by your vessel to meet me there. Oh, it will be all child’s play now, and in another few days my flag will be flying at San Cristobal, as it will be flying here.”
“If,” said Fitz quietly to Poole, as the Spaniard walked forward to address his men, “he is not counting his chickens before they are hatched.”
“Yes,” said the skipper, who had heard his words; “and if the gunboat does not return.”
“Well, father, there are some things in his favour,” said Poole, “even about the gunboat.”
“What?”
“This is a very rocky coast. That gunboat must draw a good deal of water.”
“True, my boy; true.”
“And, father,” said Poole, with a smile, “they haven’t got a Burgess on board.”
Chapter Thirty Five.The contraband.The evening was coming on fast as the schooner sailed on towards the little port with her overburdened decks.“Are we going to run right in, Poole?” asked Fitz, as he watched the excitement of the crowd on deck, where every one of Don Ramon’s followers was busy polishing up his rifle, to the great amusement of the carpenter, who slouched up to where the lads were standing. “Just look at ’em,” he said. “They thinks they’re soldiers; that’s what they have got in their heads. Rubbing up the outsides of them rifles! I’ve been watching of them this last half-hour. They’re just like an old farmer I used to know. Always werry pertickler, he was, to whitewash the outsides of his pig-sties; but as to the insides—my!”That last word sounded like a bad note on a clarionet, for, as he spoke, Winks was holding his nose tightly between his finger and thumb.Fitz laughed, and asked the question that begins the second paragraph of this chapter.“Seems like it,” said Poole, “but I don’t know whether it’s going to be safe.”“Won’t be safe for them,” continued the carpenter, “if they don’t run their loading-rods and a bit of rag through them barrels. Sore shoulders for some of them. My word, how they will kick! Soldiers!” he chuckled. “I say, Mr Burnett, have you ever seen them there recruiting-sergeants about Trafalgar Square, London?”“Yes, often,” said Fitz. “Why?”“Nice smart-looking, well-built chaps, as looks as if their uniforms had growed on ’em like their skins.”“Yes, they are smart picked men of course,” said Fitz.“That’s so, sir. What do you think they would say to these tan-leather-coloured ragged Jacks, if they went up and offered to take the shilling?”“Well, they wouldn’t take many of them, I think,” replied the middy.“Take many of them, sir? I seem to see one of the sergeants now. He’d hold that little walking-stick of his with both hands tight and close up under his left arm, stand werry stiff, and drop his head a little on one side as he looked down at them; and then he’d give a sniff, and that would be all.”But Don Ramon did not despise his followers. He was bustling about among them, addressing and exhorting and working them up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, making them shout and cheer till they were hoarse. Then they swarmed into the rigging and clustered in the shrouds, to wave their rifles and hats at the crowd gathering upon the shore and cheering shrilly in reply, the men’s voices being mingled with those of women and children, who seemed to be welcoming them as their deliverers.“Well, it’s all right, Don Ramon,” said the skipper, who was standing by Burgess busily conning the schooner as she glided in now towards the shore.“Yes,” cried the Don proudly; “it is what you call all right. You see there will be no fighting now.”Bang! went a gun from the fort, and the lads started as they gazed at the grey ball of smoke which began to turn golden as it rose in the air.“They’re reckoning without the fort,” said Fitz excitedly, as he strained his eyes in vain for the ball which he expected to see come skipping over the smooth water.“Yes,” said Poole.—“No: it was a blank. Look, they are hauling down the flag. Oh, it’s all right. A regular walk-over. Three cheers for Don Ramon!”“Yes,” shouted the skipper. “With a will, my lads! Three cheers for Don Ramon!” And they were given with such energy that the Don sprang up upon the cabin-light, to bow and press his hands to his breast.He was down again the next instant, to run to the skipper and catch and wring his hands.“You see,” he cried, “the people are with me. But you will help me still?”“As far as I can,” was the reply; “but you must not call upon me to land my men and help you in your fight with Villarayo.”“No?” said the Don, in a questioning way.“No,” replied the skipper. “The fight at the hacienda was an exception. I was driven to that.”“But you will help me still? The arms—the ammunition?”“Yes; it is our duty to land everything safely to your order.”“Then I want the rifles and cartridges now.”“Yes,” said the skipper. “You feel satisfied that it will be safe to have them landed?”“Quite. So as to arm my friends.”“Then as soon as your men are ashore I will have the cases got up from the hold.”“No,” said Don Ramon; “you must do it now. Have them up on deck so that my people can bear them ashore as soon as we reach the wharf.”“It shall be done,” said the skipper quietly. “All that I require is your authority, that you take them in charge.”“I give you my authority before all your witnesses,” replied Don Ramon proudly; “and I take them in charge. Is that sufficient?”“Quite, sir. Mr Burgess, you will lay the schooner alongside the wharf. Pass the word for the carpenter and eight or ten men. I want these tarpaulins and hatches off. Order your men back, Don Ramon. I want room for mine to work.”It was a busy scene that followed. Sails were lowered, for they were close in now; hammers were ringing; the way down into the hold was laid bare; tackle was rigged up; and by the time the schooner lay alongside a fairly-made wharf, a dozen long white cases bound with hoop-iron lay piled up upon the deck, while dozens more lay waiting to take their place. The excitement was tremendous; the wharf and its approaches were crowded by an enthusiastic mob, eager and clamouring for arms, which during the next hour were lavishly supplied, along with a sufficiency of ammunition, with the result that Don Ramon’s little force had grown into a well-armed crowd, so full of enthusiasm that they gave promise, if not of victory, of making a desperate defence.At last, with the help of those who seemed to be among the chief people of the place, the little army, well-armed, was marched away from the waterside to take up strategic positions under Don Ramon’s instructions, after which he returned to where the skipper and his men had opened another hatch and were busily hoisting up the little battery of six-pounder field-guns, with their limbers, everything being of the newest and most finished kind. These, with their cases of ammunition, proving much heavier than they looked, were swung round from the deck with the tackle necessary and landed upon the wharf, where they were seized upon at once by the Don’s roughly-selected artillery-men, and at last dragged off by teams of mules to the places of vantage where they were to be stationed; and all amidst a scene of the wildest enthusiasm.As the last gun was landed, hastily put together, and seized and dragged away by a human team, Don Ramon came back from the shore, palpitating with emotion, and hurrying to where the skipper stood upon the deck with the lads, wiping his face after superintending every part of the delivery himself.“There, Don Ramon,” he cried, “my work’s done, and you have got everything safe. I hope your fellows will be careful with the ammunition.”“Yes, yes,” was the reply; “everything is being done. I have come back to thank you. If you do not see me again yet awhile, it is because I am over yonder—because I am wanted everywhere at once. Captain Reed, and you, my brave young friends, I want to tell you of the gratitude I feel, but—but—my heart is too full. I cannot speak. But one word; to-morrow the enemy will be here, a great battle will rage, for my people will fight now to the very death. If I fall—” He stopped short.He truly could say no more, and waving his hands to them, he sprang back on to the wharf out of the light cast by the swinging lanterns, which had for some time past thrown their weird gleams upon the scene, and was gone.
The evening was coming on fast as the schooner sailed on towards the little port with her overburdened decks.
“Are we going to run right in, Poole?” asked Fitz, as he watched the excitement of the crowd on deck, where every one of Don Ramon’s followers was busy polishing up his rifle, to the great amusement of the carpenter, who slouched up to where the lads were standing. “Just look at ’em,” he said. “They thinks they’re soldiers; that’s what they have got in their heads. Rubbing up the outsides of them rifles! I’ve been watching of them this last half-hour. They’re just like an old farmer I used to know. Always werry pertickler, he was, to whitewash the outsides of his pig-sties; but as to the insides—my!”
That last word sounded like a bad note on a clarionet, for, as he spoke, Winks was holding his nose tightly between his finger and thumb.
Fitz laughed, and asked the question that begins the second paragraph of this chapter.
“Seems like it,” said Poole, “but I don’t know whether it’s going to be safe.”
“Won’t be safe for them,” continued the carpenter, “if they don’t run their loading-rods and a bit of rag through them barrels. Sore shoulders for some of them. My word, how they will kick! Soldiers!” he chuckled. “I say, Mr Burnett, have you ever seen them there recruiting-sergeants about Trafalgar Square, London?”
“Yes, often,” said Fitz. “Why?”
“Nice smart-looking, well-built chaps, as looks as if their uniforms had growed on ’em like their skins.”
“Yes, they are smart picked men of course,” said Fitz.
“That’s so, sir. What do you think they would say to these tan-leather-coloured ragged Jacks, if they went up and offered to take the shilling?”
“Well, they wouldn’t take many of them, I think,” replied the middy.
“Take many of them, sir? I seem to see one of the sergeants now. He’d hold that little walking-stick of his with both hands tight and close up under his left arm, stand werry stiff, and drop his head a little on one side as he looked down at them; and then he’d give a sniff, and that would be all.”
But Don Ramon did not despise his followers. He was bustling about among them, addressing and exhorting and working them up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, making them shout and cheer till they were hoarse. Then they swarmed into the rigging and clustered in the shrouds, to wave their rifles and hats at the crowd gathering upon the shore and cheering shrilly in reply, the men’s voices being mingled with those of women and children, who seemed to be welcoming them as their deliverers.
“Well, it’s all right, Don Ramon,” said the skipper, who was standing by Burgess busily conning the schooner as she glided in now towards the shore.
“Yes,” cried the Don proudly; “it is what you call all right. You see there will be no fighting now.”
Bang! went a gun from the fort, and the lads started as they gazed at the grey ball of smoke which began to turn golden as it rose in the air.
“They’re reckoning without the fort,” said Fitz excitedly, as he strained his eyes in vain for the ball which he expected to see come skipping over the smooth water.
“Yes,” said Poole.—“No: it was a blank. Look, they are hauling down the flag. Oh, it’s all right. A regular walk-over. Three cheers for Don Ramon!”
“Yes,” shouted the skipper. “With a will, my lads! Three cheers for Don Ramon!” And they were given with such energy that the Don sprang up upon the cabin-light, to bow and press his hands to his breast.
He was down again the next instant, to run to the skipper and catch and wring his hands.
“You see,” he cried, “the people are with me. But you will help me still?”
“As far as I can,” was the reply; “but you must not call upon me to land my men and help you in your fight with Villarayo.”
“No?” said the Don, in a questioning way.
“No,” replied the skipper. “The fight at the hacienda was an exception. I was driven to that.”
“But you will help me still? The arms—the ammunition?”
“Yes; it is our duty to land everything safely to your order.”
“Then I want the rifles and cartridges now.”
“Yes,” said the skipper. “You feel satisfied that it will be safe to have them landed?”
“Quite. So as to arm my friends.”
“Then as soon as your men are ashore I will have the cases got up from the hold.”
“No,” said Don Ramon; “you must do it now. Have them up on deck so that my people can bear them ashore as soon as we reach the wharf.”
“It shall be done,” said the skipper quietly. “All that I require is your authority, that you take them in charge.”
“I give you my authority before all your witnesses,” replied Don Ramon proudly; “and I take them in charge. Is that sufficient?”
“Quite, sir. Mr Burgess, you will lay the schooner alongside the wharf. Pass the word for the carpenter and eight or ten men. I want these tarpaulins and hatches off. Order your men back, Don Ramon. I want room for mine to work.”
It was a busy scene that followed. Sails were lowered, for they were close in now; hammers were ringing; the way down into the hold was laid bare; tackle was rigged up; and by the time the schooner lay alongside a fairly-made wharf, a dozen long white cases bound with hoop-iron lay piled up upon the deck, while dozens more lay waiting to take their place. The excitement was tremendous; the wharf and its approaches were crowded by an enthusiastic mob, eager and clamouring for arms, which during the next hour were lavishly supplied, along with a sufficiency of ammunition, with the result that Don Ramon’s little force had grown into a well-armed crowd, so full of enthusiasm that they gave promise, if not of victory, of making a desperate defence.
At last, with the help of those who seemed to be among the chief people of the place, the little army, well-armed, was marched away from the waterside to take up strategic positions under Don Ramon’s instructions, after which he returned to where the skipper and his men had opened another hatch and were busily hoisting up the little battery of six-pounder field-guns, with their limbers, everything being of the newest and most finished kind. These, with their cases of ammunition, proving much heavier than they looked, were swung round from the deck with the tackle necessary and landed upon the wharf, where they were seized upon at once by the Don’s roughly-selected artillery-men, and at last dragged off by teams of mules to the places of vantage where they were to be stationed; and all amidst a scene of the wildest enthusiasm.
As the last gun was landed, hastily put together, and seized and dragged away by a human team, Don Ramon came back from the shore, palpitating with emotion, and hurrying to where the skipper stood upon the deck with the lads, wiping his face after superintending every part of the delivery himself.
“There, Don Ramon,” he cried, “my work’s done, and you have got everything safe. I hope your fellows will be careful with the ammunition.”
“Yes, yes,” was the reply; “everything is being done. I have come back to thank you. If you do not see me again yet awhile, it is because I am over yonder—because I am wanted everywhere at once. Captain Reed, and you, my brave young friends, I want to tell you of the gratitude I feel, but—but—my heart is too full. I cannot speak. But one word; to-morrow the enemy will be here, a great battle will rage, for my people will fight now to the very death. If I fall—” He stopped short.
He truly could say no more, and waving his hands to them, he sprang back on to the wharf out of the light cast by the swinging lanterns, which had for some time past thrown their weird gleams upon the scene, and was gone.
Chapter Thirty Six.Real war.There was little sleep that night for those on board, for once his little cargo was discharged, the skipper had everything made snug and ready for putting to sea if necessary at a moment’s notice.Most of the men had been busy over the landing of the cases and guns, and Fitz had thoroughly enjoyed the looking on, feeling a strange longing the while to go ashore and superintend the unpacking and putting together of the gun-limbers, and the mounting of the pieces. Not that there was a great deal to do, for, in obedience to instructions, the British manufacturers had sent the little field-guns with everything so simplified that the rough artillery-men from the Central American fort had few difficulties with which to contend. He saw little of Poole in the darkness, but knew that he was busy over something with a couple of men at his beck, while a third had had a duty of his own where a bright light had gleamed out and a little chimney had roared in a way which made Poole anxiously consult his father, who was superintending the landing of cases, when in their brief conversation something was said about sparks, and then a couple of tarpaulins were rigged up with lines, in a way which entirely cut off the galley from the rest of the deck.The result of all this was, that when the deck was clear and hatches replaced, the Camel stood smiling, with glistening face, for his work too was done, and the fresh provisions that had been abundantly brought on board by the women of the place were in a most welcome form for the half-starved, weary crew, and about midnight there was something as nearly like a banquet as could be expected under the circumstances, and to the delight of all.There had been no form; the only ceremony had been for officers and men to sit down sailor or tailor fashion, cross-legged upon the deck, and eat as much as such men would.“Hah!” said the boatswain, turning towards the two lads, after being very silent for quite half-an-hour. “I call this something like; but I do hope as the Camel’s had time to pick a bit.”So busy had the party on board been, that they had thought little about the proceedings on shore, the less so that the excitement and noise of shouting orders, trampling feet, and the buzz of chattering women and children had drifted farther and farther away to the opposite side of the town, where beyond the low houses and hovels of the poorer part of the population the long low valley commenced which rapidly became a pass, the key, so to speak, of the little city.Here Don Ramon had mustered his force, and here during the rest of the night his men worked by the light of the stars, making a wall of stones with openings for the field-pieces, and clearing the road behind between them and the earthwork nearer to the fort, to which in case of emergency they could be withdrawn ready for another stand.He was no novice in such matters, having passed his life as he had amidst a volcanic people where revolutions came and went as if indigenous to the countries bordering upon the Mexican Gulf.In his way he was no bad soldier, and in fact a better man than his rival the tyrant and oppressor, whom he had been urged by the superior part of his fellow-countrymen to supplant.Hence it was that before morning, and without interruption, he made the most of the rough but enthusiastic and willing materials to his hand, so that at last he could breathe more freely and accept the congratulations of his friends over the knowledge they shared that Villarayo would find when he came up that not only had he a formidable nut to crack, but the probability before him that the nutcrackers would give way first.All this was plain enough in the coming daylight, when the skipper and the two lads made their way ashore in one of the boats from the spot where theTealwas moored, floating more lightly now, and almost as gracefully in the pearly grey light as the beautiful little waterfowl after which she was named.“Why, it looks almost like an anthill,” said Fitz, as they approached the mouth of the pass, whose sides were dotted with men, most of whom were carrying rifles, while each displayed a formidable knife in his belt. “But there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the enemy as yet.”“No,” said Poole; “but I say, father, do you think that they will be able to manage those guns?”“Yes,” said the skipper gravely. “The men who had the gumption to plant them like that will be pretty sure to find out the way to use them with effect. Besides, they have had some experience, of course, with the old-fashioned pieces in the fort.”“There go their colours up!” cried Fitz excitedly, as the national flag was run up to the head of the flagstaff that had been raised during the night. “I hope they’ll win, Captain Reed, for the Don’s been very plucky, and I suppose he is in the right.”“If he hadn’t been in the right I wouldn’t have helped him as I have,” said the skipper gruffly.“No,” said Poole firmly, as if to endorse his father’s words. “But don’t you think, father, that if you brought all our chaps ashore to set these men by the guns at liberty and leave our lads to work them, they’d manage them much better—fire more regularly and twice as fast?”“Yes, that they would,” cried Fitz excitedly. “There’s hardly one of them who doesn’t know his gun-drill.”“How do you know that?” said the skipper grimly.“Oh, I asked them,” replied the lad, flushing. “They all talk to me about their old life on board different Queen’s ships. It was because I was a midshipman, I suppose. Why,” he continued, growing more excited by what he saw, “our Chips—I mean, your Chips,” he said, hastily correcting himself—“would make a splendid captain for one of the guns; Mr Butters another, of course; and the Camel, though he’s cook now. Oh, I could man all those guns easily.”“Like to do it, perhaps,” said the skipper dryly, “and fancy that battery was the broadside of a ship?”“Yes, of course,” said the lad; “I mean—” he stammered—“that is— Oh, it’s nothing to do with me.”“No,” said the skipper quietly, as he stood looking critically at the preparations Don Ramon had made, while the scene around seemed to have had the same peculiar exciting effect upon his son as it had upon the midshipman, for Poole said suddenly—“Why, father, if you were to do that it would make all the difference, and be like turning the scale to Don Ramon’s side.”“Yes, my boy,” said the skipper, “and here he is;” for the Don suddenly appeared, mounted upon a sturdy mule, cantering towards them, with his steed making very light of the rugged stony ground, and stopping short close up to the group in response to a touch upon its rein, when its rider sprang lightly to the ground, looking as wiry and fresh as the beast he rode, in spite of the labours of the night.“Ah, my friend! Welcome!” he cried. “And you too, my braves. Now,” he added joyously, his eyes sparkling with excitement, “have not my brave fellows worked? Are we not ready for the enemy when he comes? What have you to say? There are the guns! Tell me, are they well-placed? You who have brought them know so much. If they are not right, tell me what to do, and it shall be done.”“I would not alter anything now,” said the skipper gravely.“Why not, if they, are wrong? There is time, and plenty, for my scouts are far enough away, and the enemy is not in sight.”The skipper was silent, but his eyes were not idle, and he seemed to be examining every disposition closely.“He does not speak,” continued Don Ramon. “Then you, my young English officer; you come from a ship with guns, what have you to say?”“I was wondering,” said Fitz, flushing, “not about the guns, for they seem well-placed, but whether the enemy could come down that little valley up yonder or get round by the rear.”“No, no, no,” cried the Don exultantly. “Velova can only be reached by this pass, which my guns command. There is no other way—by land—but there is the sea.”“And the gunboat?” said Fitz.“Ah–h, yes, the gunboat!” cried the Don, with his face convulsed, as he clenched his hands. “The gunboat—yes. It is the key to the Presidency.”“No,” said the skipper suddenly, “I would change nothing, Don Ramon. As far as I know, your position is magnificent.”“Hah!” cried the Don, with his face smoothing once more, and his eyes lighting up with pleasure. “But you think my grand, my beautiful and perfect little guns that you have brought me are well-placed?”“Capitally,” said the skipper sincerely. “But they are not perfect,” said the Don, with a peculiar smile, as he keenly watched the skipper the while. “There is one thing wanting.”“Surely not,” cried the skipper angrily. “I saw them packed myself, and I can answer for it that nothing was left out, unless it was in the hurry of the unpacking last night. Quick, while there is time! What has been left behind? Do you mean there is something still on board?”“Yes, my good friend,” said the Don softly; “the crew. Captain Reed,” he continued excitedly, “with your brave fellows to man that battery the day must be my own. Villarayo’s sun would set in blood and dust; my poor oppressed country would rise in pride to happiness and peace; and I should be President indeed—my people’s father—he who has saved them from slavery and chains.”The skipper shook his head.“No, no,” continued the Don softly. “Listen. This country is rich in mines; there are precious stones; there is no reward you could ask me afterwards that I would not give. I care for nothing of these things, for I am fighting for my country and my people’s homes. Captain Reed, you have always been my friend, my trusted friend, who brought me all these in answer to my prayer. There is this one thing more. I ask it of my trusted friend.”Poole glanced at his father’s stern face, which seemed to turn colder and harder than he had ever seen it before, and then turned quickly to look at Fitz, who was watching him with questioning eyes which seemed to say, What will he reply?But reply there was none, apparently for minutes, though the space of time that elapsed could have been numbered in moments, before he spoke, and then it was in a low, softened and pained voice.“No, Don Ramon,” he said. “You ask me for what I cannot give.”“Give!” cried the Don passionately. “I offer to pay you!”“Yes, sir,” said the captain, without changing his tone, “and that makes it worse. I tell you my heart is with you in your project, and that I wish you success, but I am answerable to those men, their friends, and I suppose to my country’s laws for their lives. I have no right to enter into such an enterprise as this.”“Why?” cried the Don passionately. “You fought with me before!”“Yes—to save their lives and yours. It was in an emergency. This is a different thing. I cannot do it.”“Then you forsake me?” cried the Don angrily. “That is neither true nor fair,” replied the skipper sternly. “I have helped you truly and well, and run great risks in bringing you those munitions of war. With that you must be content. As for forsaking you, you know in your heart, through my help and the counsel you have received from my young companion here, you never stood in a better position for dealing a death-blow at your rival’s position. Is that the truth, or is it not?”“Ah!” cried the Don passionately, evading the question. “When your help means so much you give me empty words.”“That is no answer, sir,” replied the skipper. “Is what I have said the truth, or is it not?”Don Ramon turned upon him furiously, his eyes flashing and his hands clenched; but as he met the Englishman’s stern questioning eyes he stopped short, fixed by them, as it were, and then tossing his open hands in the air with a gesture which seemed to say, There, I surrender! his angry countenance softened, and he supported himself by taking hold of the pommel of his saddle.“Yes,” he said wearily, “of course it is the truth. You always were the man in whom I could trust, and I suppose you are right. Forgive me for being so exacting. But, captain, I have so much at stake.”“Then trust to the strength of your cause, your position, and the bravery of your people. But I am not going to forsake you, Ramon,” continued the skipper, in a graver and softer tone, “and I will tell you this; if the day goes against you, the schooner will be lying a few hundred yards from shore with her boats ready to take off you and as many of your friends as you wish to bring. I will do that at any risk, but I can do no more.”Don Ramon was silent for a few moments, before repeating the captain’s last words slowly. Then, after a pause—“It may be different,” he said, “but if matters are as bad as that, it will be because I have fired my last shot, and Villarayo has found that another lover of his country is in his way no more. No, Captain Reed, I shall not have to put your hospitality to the test. I could not escape, and leave those who have been fighting for me to the death. There,” he added quickly, completely changing his tone, “I do not mean to die; I mean to win. Forgive me once again. You will after your fashion shake hands?”“With all my heart,” cried the skipper, stretching out both his, which were eagerly caught and raised quickly to the Spaniard’s lips.“Thank you,” he cried, “I am a man once more. Just now I talked like a disappointed woman who could not have her way.—What does that mean?” he said sharply as there was a shout from the distance.“People coming down the pass,” cried Fitz excitedly, and there was the report of a rifle which ran reverberating with many echoes along the rocks.Before the sounds had ceased Don Ramon had sprung upon his mule, to turn smiling with a comprehensive wave of his hand to the trio, and then cantered off amongst the rugged stones, while they watched him till he reached the battery of field-pieces and sprang off to throw the rein to one of his men.“That shot was the opening of the ball,” said the skipper. “Now, my lads, back aboard the schooner, to make our arrangements, Poole, for keeping my word with the Don if he and his people have to run.”“No!” burst out both the boys in a breath.“No?” cried the skipper good-humouredly. “What do you mean? This isn’t going to be a show. You don’t want to stop and see the fight?”“Not want to stop and see it?” cried Fitz excitedly.“Well, I am not fond of fighting, father,” said Poole, “but I do. I want to see Don Ramon win.”“Humph!” grunted the skipper. “Well, you must be disappointed. As for you, Mr Burnett, the sooner you are out of reach of bullets the better.”“Well,” cried Fitz, “I like that—coming from the skipper of a trading schooner! Do you know what I am?”“Of course,” was the answer, with a smile.“It doesn’t seem like it,” cried Fitz. “I know I am almost a boy still—Don’t laugh, Poole!” he added sharply, with a stamp of the foot—“Well, quite a boy; but young as I am, I am a naval officer, and I was never taught that it was my duty to run away if ever I came under fire.”“It’s the safest way,” said the skipper mockingly. “‘He who fights and runs away, will live to fight another day.’ That’s it, isn’t it?”“I suppose so,” said Fitz, getting on his stilts—“to be laughed at for a coward as long as he lives. Look here, Captain Reed, I am your prisoner, but you are not my captain, and I mean to stop and see this fight. Why, I must. I shall have to tell. Captain Glossop all about this some day, and I should look well if I owned that I had run away.—But you don’t mean it, sir. It’s all nonsense to talk of being in danger up here, all this distance off. Yes, he is joking, isn’t he, Poole?”“Well, there’s not much joke about it, my lad,” said the skipper gravely. “I must own that I don’t want to go away myself. Seems to me that what we ought to do is to hurry back to where the women are, get a good supply of linen and bandages from them, and muster some bearers for— Yes, the firing is going on, and I don’t suppose that it will be long before some poor fellows will be falling out and crawling back to the rear.”“Yes,” said Fitz eagerly; “I never thought of that. Come on, then, and let’s make haste so as to get back in time.”The skipper nodded, and they hurried away, but had very little distance to go, for the sound of the firing was bringing the curious from out of the town, and it was not long before they had been furnished with the material for binding up wounds, and better still, with a doctor, who joined hands with them at once in making the rough ambulance arrangements.Within half-an-hour they were back at the spot where the interview with Don Ramon had taken place, to find that which their ears had prepared them for, the rattle of musketry going steadily on as the enemy advanced, while they were just in time for the sharp dull thud and echoing roar of the first field-piece, whose shell was seen to burst and send up its puff of smoke far along the rugged valley.This checked the advance for some minutes, scattering the enemy in all directions, but it was plain to the lookers-on from their post of observation, that they were being rallied, and the speaking out of the second gun from the battery plainly told that this was the case.What followed in the next two hours was a scene of confusion and excitement far up the valley, and of quiet steady firing from the battery, whose shells left little for Don Ramon’s advance posts to do.They lay low in their shelters, and built up rifle-screens, hastily made, firing as they had a chance, but their work only helped to keep the enemy back. It was to the guns that Don Ramon owed his success. There was no lack of bravery on the part of the enemy’s officers, for they exposed themselves recklessly, rallying their men again and again, and gradually getting them nearer and nearer to those who served the guns.But the rifle-firing was wild, and not a man among the gunners went down, or was startled from his task of loading and laying the sheltered pieces. All the same the enemy advanced, the rugged pass affording them plenty of places that they could hold, and at the end of three hours they had made such progress that matters were beginning to look serious for the defenders of Velova, and the time had come when it was evident to the watchers that Don Ramon was making ready to retire his guns to his next defence, for the teams of mules were hurried up and placed in a hollow beyond the reach of the enemy’s rifles; and now too it was seen plainly enough that Villarayo or his captains were preparing for a rush to capture the guns, and in the excitement the skipper forgot about all risks to him and his, and proposed that they should hurry to a spot higher up one side of the pass and fifty yards nearer to the battery.This proved to be an admirable point of vantage, and enlightened the lookers-on to far more than they had been before, for they were startled to see how much greater was the number of the attacking force than they had believed.The enemy were in two bodies, gathered-together and lying down on the opposite sides of the pass, and the lads had hardly raised their heads above the shelter of some stones when they saw that the order had been given for the advance, and the men were springing to their feet.“I must go and warn him,” cried the skipper, beneath his breath, “or he will lose his guns; and then—”He said no more, but stood spellbound like his young companions at what was taking place, for Don Ramon was better supplied with information than he had believed, and as the attacking forces of the enemy sprang up, he found that the direction of the battery’s fire had been altered to left and right, and the attacking forces had barely commenced their crowded charge when the six pieces burst forth almost together with such a hurricane of grape that a way was torn through each rough column and the fight was over, the smoke from the discharge as it rose showing the enemy scattered and in full flight, the steep sides of the little valley littered with the wounded, and more and more faltering behind and dropping as their comrades fled.“Viva!” shouted the skipper, with all his might; but it was a feeble sound as compared with the roar of voices which rose from the battery and beyond, while it only needed the rifle-shots of those lying in the shelters higher up the pass, and a shell dropped here and there till the full range of the field-pieces had been reached, to complete Villarayo’s discomfiture for that day at least.“Now,” said the skipper quietly, “we must leave the succour of the wounded to Ramon’s own people. I am sick of all this. Let’s get back on board the schooner.”It was about an hour afterwards that Poole went to his father on the deck of theTeal.“Oughtn’t we to have stopped a little longer,” he said, “and tried to be of some help?”“I should have liked to, my boy,” said the skipper sadly, “but I didn’t want you and young Burnett to see what was bound to follow. The rougher portion of Don Ramon’s followers have not the same ideas of mercy to a fallen enemy that belong to a European mind, and so I came away.”
There was little sleep that night for those on board, for once his little cargo was discharged, the skipper had everything made snug and ready for putting to sea if necessary at a moment’s notice.
Most of the men had been busy over the landing of the cases and guns, and Fitz had thoroughly enjoyed the looking on, feeling a strange longing the while to go ashore and superintend the unpacking and putting together of the gun-limbers, and the mounting of the pieces. Not that there was a great deal to do, for, in obedience to instructions, the British manufacturers had sent the little field-guns with everything so simplified that the rough artillery-men from the Central American fort had few difficulties with which to contend. He saw little of Poole in the darkness, but knew that he was busy over something with a couple of men at his beck, while a third had had a duty of his own where a bright light had gleamed out and a little chimney had roared in a way which made Poole anxiously consult his father, who was superintending the landing of cases, when in their brief conversation something was said about sparks, and then a couple of tarpaulins were rigged up with lines, in a way which entirely cut off the galley from the rest of the deck.
The result of all this was, that when the deck was clear and hatches replaced, the Camel stood smiling, with glistening face, for his work too was done, and the fresh provisions that had been abundantly brought on board by the women of the place were in a most welcome form for the half-starved, weary crew, and about midnight there was something as nearly like a banquet as could be expected under the circumstances, and to the delight of all.
There had been no form; the only ceremony had been for officers and men to sit down sailor or tailor fashion, cross-legged upon the deck, and eat as much as such men would.
“Hah!” said the boatswain, turning towards the two lads, after being very silent for quite half-an-hour. “I call this something like; but I do hope as the Camel’s had time to pick a bit.”
So busy had the party on board been, that they had thought little about the proceedings on shore, the less so that the excitement and noise of shouting orders, trampling feet, and the buzz of chattering women and children had drifted farther and farther away to the opposite side of the town, where beyond the low houses and hovels of the poorer part of the population the long low valley commenced which rapidly became a pass, the key, so to speak, of the little city.
Here Don Ramon had mustered his force, and here during the rest of the night his men worked by the light of the stars, making a wall of stones with openings for the field-pieces, and clearing the road behind between them and the earthwork nearer to the fort, to which in case of emergency they could be withdrawn ready for another stand.
He was no novice in such matters, having passed his life as he had amidst a volcanic people where revolutions came and went as if indigenous to the countries bordering upon the Mexican Gulf.
In his way he was no bad soldier, and in fact a better man than his rival the tyrant and oppressor, whom he had been urged by the superior part of his fellow-countrymen to supplant.
Hence it was that before morning, and without interruption, he made the most of the rough but enthusiastic and willing materials to his hand, so that at last he could breathe more freely and accept the congratulations of his friends over the knowledge they shared that Villarayo would find when he came up that not only had he a formidable nut to crack, but the probability before him that the nutcrackers would give way first.
All this was plain enough in the coming daylight, when the skipper and the two lads made their way ashore in one of the boats from the spot where theTealwas moored, floating more lightly now, and almost as gracefully in the pearly grey light as the beautiful little waterfowl after which she was named.
“Why, it looks almost like an anthill,” said Fitz, as they approached the mouth of the pass, whose sides were dotted with men, most of whom were carrying rifles, while each displayed a formidable knife in his belt. “But there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the enemy as yet.”
“No,” said Poole; “but I say, father, do you think that they will be able to manage those guns?”
“Yes,” said the skipper gravely. “The men who had the gumption to plant them like that will be pretty sure to find out the way to use them with effect. Besides, they have had some experience, of course, with the old-fashioned pieces in the fort.”
“There go their colours up!” cried Fitz excitedly, as the national flag was run up to the head of the flagstaff that had been raised during the night. “I hope they’ll win, Captain Reed, for the Don’s been very plucky, and I suppose he is in the right.”
“If he hadn’t been in the right I wouldn’t have helped him as I have,” said the skipper gruffly.
“No,” said Poole firmly, as if to endorse his father’s words. “But don’t you think, father, that if you brought all our chaps ashore to set these men by the guns at liberty and leave our lads to work them, they’d manage them much better—fire more regularly and twice as fast?”
“Yes, that they would,” cried Fitz excitedly. “There’s hardly one of them who doesn’t know his gun-drill.”
“How do you know that?” said the skipper grimly.
“Oh, I asked them,” replied the lad, flushing. “They all talk to me about their old life on board different Queen’s ships. It was because I was a midshipman, I suppose. Why,” he continued, growing more excited by what he saw, “our Chips—I mean, your Chips,” he said, hastily correcting himself—“would make a splendid captain for one of the guns; Mr Butters another, of course; and the Camel, though he’s cook now. Oh, I could man all those guns easily.”
“Like to do it, perhaps,” said the skipper dryly, “and fancy that battery was the broadside of a ship?”
“Yes, of course,” said the lad; “I mean—” he stammered—“that is— Oh, it’s nothing to do with me.”
“No,” said the skipper quietly, as he stood looking critically at the preparations Don Ramon had made, while the scene around seemed to have had the same peculiar exciting effect upon his son as it had upon the midshipman, for Poole said suddenly—
“Why, father, if you were to do that it would make all the difference, and be like turning the scale to Don Ramon’s side.”
“Yes, my boy,” said the skipper, “and here he is;” for the Don suddenly appeared, mounted upon a sturdy mule, cantering towards them, with his steed making very light of the rugged stony ground, and stopping short close up to the group in response to a touch upon its rein, when its rider sprang lightly to the ground, looking as wiry and fresh as the beast he rode, in spite of the labours of the night.
“Ah, my friend! Welcome!” he cried. “And you too, my braves. Now,” he added joyously, his eyes sparkling with excitement, “have not my brave fellows worked? Are we not ready for the enemy when he comes? What have you to say? There are the guns! Tell me, are they well-placed? You who have brought them know so much. If they are not right, tell me what to do, and it shall be done.”
“I would not alter anything now,” said the skipper gravely.
“Why not, if they, are wrong? There is time, and plenty, for my scouts are far enough away, and the enemy is not in sight.”
The skipper was silent, but his eyes were not idle, and he seemed to be examining every disposition closely.
“He does not speak,” continued Don Ramon. “Then you, my young English officer; you come from a ship with guns, what have you to say?”
“I was wondering,” said Fitz, flushing, “not about the guns, for they seem well-placed, but whether the enemy could come down that little valley up yonder or get round by the rear.”
“No, no, no,” cried the Don exultantly. “Velova can only be reached by this pass, which my guns command. There is no other way—by land—but there is the sea.”
“And the gunboat?” said Fitz.
“Ah–h, yes, the gunboat!” cried the Don, with his face convulsed, as he clenched his hands. “The gunboat—yes. It is the key to the Presidency.”
“No,” said the skipper suddenly, “I would change nothing, Don Ramon. As far as I know, your position is magnificent.”
“Hah!” cried the Don, with his face smoothing once more, and his eyes lighting up with pleasure. “But you think my grand, my beautiful and perfect little guns that you have brought me are well-placed?”
“Capitally,” said the skipper sincerely. “But they are not perfect,” said the Don, with a peculiar smile, as he keenly watched the skipper the while. “There is one thing wanting.”
“Surely not,” cried the skipper angrily. “I saw them packed myself, and I can answer for it that nothing was left out, unless it was in the hurry of the unpacking last night. Quick, while there is time! What has been left behind? Do you mean there is something still on board?”
“Yes, my good friend,” said the Don softly; “the crew. Captain Reed,” he continued excitedly, “with your brave fellows to man that battery the day must be my own. Villarayo’s sun would set in blood and dust; my poor oppressed country would rise in pride to happiness and peace; and I should be President indeed—my people’s father—he who has saved them from slavery and chains.”
The skipper shook his head.
“No, no,” continued the Don softly. “Listen. This country is rich in mines; there are precious stones; there is no reward you could ask me afterwards that I would not give. I care for nothing of these things, for I am fighting for my country and my people’s homes. Captain Reed, you have always been my friend, my trusted friend, who brought me all these in answer to my prayer. There is this one thing more. I ask it of my trusted friend.”
Poole glanced at his father’s stern face, which seemed to turn colder and harder than he had ever seen it before, and then turned quickly to look at Fitz, who was watching him with questioning eyes which seemed to say, What will he reply?
But reply there was none, apparently for minutes, though the space of time that elapsed could have been numbered in moments, before he spoke, and then it was in a low, softened and pained voice.
“No, Don Ramon,” he said. “You ask me for what I cannot give.”
“Give!” cried the Don passionately. “I offer to pay you!”
“Yes, sir,” said the captain, without changing his tone, “and that makes it worse. I tell you my heart is with you in your project, and that I wish you success, but I am answerable to those men, their friends, and I suppose to my country’s laws for their lives. I have no right to enter into such an enterprise as this.”
“Why?” cried the Don passionately. “You fought with me before!”
“Yes—to save their lives and yours. It was in an emergency. This is a different thing. I cannot do it.”
“Then you forsake me?” cried the Don angrily. “That is neither true nor fair,” replied the skipper sternly. “I have helped you truly and well, and run great risks in bringing you those munitions of war. With that you must be content. As for forsaking you, you know in your heart, through my help and the counsel you have received from my young companion here, you never stood in a better position for dealing a death-blow at your rival’s position. Is that the truth, or is it not?”
“Ah!” cried the Don passionately, evading the question. “When your help means so much you give me empty words.”
“That is no answer, sir,” replied the skipper. “Is what I have said the truth, or is it not?”
Don Ramon turned upon him furiously, his eyes flashing and his hands clenched; but as he met the Englishman’s stern questioning eyes he stopped short, fixed by them, as it were, and then tossing his open hands in the air with a gesture which seemed to say, There, I surrender! his angry countenance softened, and he supported himself by taking hold of the pommel of his saddle.
“Yes,” he said wearily, “of course it is the truth. You always were the man in whom I could trust, and I suppose you are right. Forgive me for being so exacting. But, captain, I have so much at stake.”
“Then trust to the strength of your cause, your position, and the bravery of your people. But I am not going to forsake you, Ramon,” continued the skipper, in a graver and softer tone, “and I will tell you this; if the day goes against you, the schooner will be lying a few hundred yards from shore with her boats ready to take off you and as many of your friends as you wish to bring. I will do that at any risk, but I can do no more.”
Don Ramon was silent for a few moments, before repeating the captain’s last words slowly. Then, after a pause—
“It may be different,” he said, “but if matters are as bad as that, it will be because I have fired my last shot, and Villarayo has found that another lover of his country is in his way no more. No, Captain Reed, I shall not have to put your hospitality to the test. I could not escape, and leave those who have been fighting for me to the death. There,” he added quickly, completely changing his tone, “I do not mean to die; I mean to win. Forgive me once again. You will after your fashion shake hands?”
“With all my heart,” cried the skipper, stretching out both his, which were eagerly caught and raised quickly to the Spaniard’s lips.
“Thank you,” he cried, “I am a man once more. Just now I talked like a disappointed woman who could not have her way.—What does that mean?” he said sharply as there was a shout from the distance.
“People coming down the pass,” cried Fitz excitedly, and there was the report of a rifle which ran reverberating with many echoes along the rocks.
Before the sounds had ceased Don Ramon had sprung upon his mule, to turn smiling with a comprehensive wave of his hand to the trio, and then cantered off amongst the rugged stones, while they watched him till he reached the battery of field-pieces and sprang off to throw the rein to one of his men.
“That shot was the opening of the ball,” said the skipper. “Now, my lads, back aboard the schooner, to make our arrangements, Poole, for keeping my word with the Don if he and his people have to run.”
“No!” burst out both the boys in a breath.
“No?” cried the skipper good-humouredly. “What do you mean? This isn’t going to be a show. You don’t want to stop and see the fight?”
“Not want to stop and see it?” cried Fitz excitedly.
“Well, I am not fond of fighting, father,” said Poole, “but I do. I want to see Don Ramon win.”
“Humph!” grunted the skipper. “Well, you must be disappointed. As for you, Mr Burnett, the sooner you are out of reach of bullets the better.”
“Well,” cried Fitz, “I like that—coming from the skipper of a trading schooner! Do you know what I am?”
“Of course,” was the answer, with a smile.
“It doesn’t seem like it,” cried Fitz. “I know I am almost a boy still—Don’t laugh, Poole!” he added sharply, with a stamp of the foot—“Well, quite a boy; but young as I am, I am a naval officer, and I was never taught that it was my duty to run away if ever I came under fire.”
“It’s the safest way,” said the skipper mockingly. “‘He who fights and runs away, will live to fight another day.’ That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” said Fitz, getting on his stilts—“to be laughed at for a coward as long as he lives. Look here, Captain Reed, I am your prisoner, but you are not my captain, and I mean to stop and see this fight. Why, I must. I shall have to tell. Captain Glossop all about this some day, and I should look well if I owned that I had run away.—But you don’t mean it, sir. It’s all nonsense to talk of being in danger up here, all this distance off. Yes, he is joking, isn’t he, Poole?”
“Well, there’s not much joke about it, my lad,” said the skipper gravely. “I must own that I don’t want to go away myself. Seems to me that what we ought to do is to hurry back to where the women are, get a good supply of linen and bandages from them, and muster some bearers for— Yes, the firing is going on, and I don’t suppose that it will be long before some poor fellows will be falling out and crawling back to the rear.”
“Yes,” said Fitz eagerly; “I never thought of that. Come on, then, and let’s make haste so as to get back in time.”
The skipper nodded, and they hurried away, but had very little distance to go, for the sound of the firing was bringing the curious from out of the town, and it was not long before they had been furnished with the material for binding up wounds, and better still, with a doctor, who joined hands with them at once in making the rough ambulance arrangements.
Within half-an-hour they were back at the spot where the interview with Don Ramon had taken place, to find that which their ears had prepared them for, the rattle of musketry going steadily on as the enemy advanced, while they were just in time for the sharp dull thud and echoing roar of the first field-piece, whose shell was seen to burst and send up its puff of smoke far along the rugged valley.
This checked the advance for some minutes, scattering the enemy in all directions, but it was plain to the lookers-on from their post of observation, that they were being rallied, and the speaking out of the second gun from the battery plainly told that this was the case.
What followed in the next two hours was a scene of confusion and excitement far up the valley, and of quiet steady firing from the battery, whose shells left little for Don Ramon’s advance posts to do.
They lay low in their shelters, and built up rifle-screens, hastily made, firing as they had a chance, but their work only helped to keep the enemy back. It was to the guns that Don Ramon owed his success. There was no lack of bravery on the part of the enemy’s officers, for they exposed themselves recklessly, rallying their men again and again, and gradually getting them nearer and nearer to those who served the guns.
But the rifle-firing was wild, and not a man among the gunners went down, or was startled from his task of loading and laying the sheltered pieces. All the same the enemy advanced, the rugged pass affording them plenty of places that they could hold, and at the end of three hours they had made such progress that matters were beginning to look serious for the defenders of Velova, and the time had come when it was evident to the watchers that Don Ramon was making ready to retire his guns to his next defence, for the teams of mules were hurried up and placed in a hollow beyond the reach of the enemy’s rifles; and now too it was seen plainly enough that Villarayo or his captains were preparing for a rush to capture the guns, and in the excitement the skipper forgot about all risks to him and his, and proposed that they should hurry to a spot higher up one side of the pass and fifty yards nearer to the battery.
This proved to be an admirable point of vantage, and enlightened the lookers-on to far more than they had been before, for they were startled to see how much greater was the number of the attacking force than they had believed.
The enemy were in two bodies, gathered-together and lying down on the opposite sides of the pass, and the lads had hardly raised their heads above the shelter of some stones when they saw that the order had been given for the advance, and the men were springing to their feet.
“I must go and warn him,” cried the skipper, beneath his breath, “or he will lose his guns; and then—”
He said no more, but stood spellbound like his young companions at what was taking place, for Don Ramon was better supplied with information than he had believed, and as the attacking forces of the enemy sprang up, he found that the direction of the battery’s fire had been altered to left and right, and the attacking forces had barely commenced their crowded charge when the six pieces burst forth almost together with such a hurricane of grape that a way was torn through each rough column and the fight was over, the smoke from the discharge as it rose showing the enemy scattered and in full flight, the steep sides of the little valley littered with the wounded, and more and more faltering behind and dropping as their comrades fled.
“Viva!” shouted the skipper, with all his might; but it was a feeble sound as compared with the roar of voices which rose from the battery and beyond, while it only needed the rifle-shots of those lying in the shelters higher up the pass, and a shell dropped here and there till the full range of the field-pieces had been reached, to complete Villarayo’s discomfiture for that day at least.
“Now,” said the skipper quietly, “we must leave the succour of the wounded to Ramon’s own people. I am sick of all this. Let’s get back on board the schooner.”
It was about an hour afterwards that Poole went to his father on the deck of theTeal.
“Oughtn’t we to have stopped a little longer,” he said, “and tried to be of some help?”
“I should have liked to, my boy,” said the skipper sadly, “but I didn’t want you and young Burnett to see what was bound to follow. The rougher portion of Don Ramon’s followers have not the same ideas of mercy to a fallen enemy that belong to a European mind, and so I came away.”