Chapter Nine.The Indian’s hut—alarming news.When consciousness at length returned, a very different scene met my sight. I had an idea that something dreadful had occurred, but what it was I could not tell. My belief was, that I had been dreaming that I had witnessed a battle, that I had fallen from my horse and hurt myself, and that I had been lifted up and carried along on men’s shoulders to some distant place. I had an indistinct recollection of a face full of tenderness often bending over me; but whether it were white or red I could not tell, the expression only had made any impression on me. There was, however, so great a want of clearness and reality in what I have described, that when I once more began to collect my thoughts, I was unable to determine whether or not I had been dreaming all the time, and was still half asleep.At length I opened my eyes, and discovered that I was lying under the shade of a small hut or wigwam, composed of the boughs of trees, and thatched carefully over with straw. My couch was on the ground; but it was a very soft one, for the bed was stuffed with a quantity of the fine wool of the vicuñas, and covered with a delicately woven woollen stuff.The hut stood in an open space amid a forest of gigantic trees, such as a tropical clime can alone produce. Beyond were dark and frowning rocks, above which rose ridges of lofty mountains, one overtopping the other, till the more distant, covered with a mantle of everlasting snow, seemed lost in the clouds. The sky overhead was of intense blue; and through it sailed, with outstretched wings, a mighty condor, carrying in his talons a kid he had snatched from the valley below to his eyrie on the summit of the rugged cliffs in the distance. I watched the majestic bird as it sailed along, forgetful of my own condition, and wondering whether any one would be able to rescue the poor animal from its impending fate. On it went, growing smaller and smaller, till it became a mere speck in the sky, and then disappeared altogether.This trifling circumstance served to arouse me, and I began to look about me with some attention. I discovered, at length, that the forest glade was not tenantless, for the part farthest removed from me was crowded with dense masses of Indians, who were collected round one who, by his height, his rich dress, and noble bearing, I conjectured to be a chief, though I never recollected to have seen him before. Other Indians kept arriving from all sides through the forest. He stood elevated above the rest on a mound of earth under a canopy of cloth of many colours; and I observed that theborla, the red fringe worn only in ancient days by the proud Incas, bound his brow. From this sign I could have no doubt that he was the well-known chieftain, Tupac Amaru, the lineal descendant of the Incas, and the elder uncle of my friend Manco. By the Indians he had been known usually by the name of Condorcanqui, and by the Spanish as Don José Gabriel, Marquis de Alcalises, a title which had been given to one of his ancestors by the King of Spain.He was addressing the multitude in a harangue which, from the distance he was from me, I could not hear. The people listened with deep earnestness and silence, till some expression aroused their passions, when brandishing their weapons, their bows, their clubs and spears, they uttered shouts of approval, or wild cries of defiance and hatred to their foe.I had no doubt that I was in one of the strongholds of the Indians, among the mountains on the eastern side of the Andes. The Inca, for so I may call him, continued speaking for an hour or more, when I again fell off into a sleep or stupor. I had discovered that I was wounded both in the head and side; and I felt dreadfully weak and ill. The sun was just gliding behind the mountains when I again opened my eyes. By my side sat a young and very beautiful woman, her large black eyes and the tinge of copper in her complexion showing that she was of Indian birth.In front of the hut stood a man whose figure I thought I knew. An exclamation of surprise escaped my lips. He turned his head at the sound of my voice, and I recognised, to my joy, the chief Manco. He knelt down by my side.“Ah! my young friend, I rejoice to hear you speak once again,” he said. “My wife and I have watched over you anxiously, for we thought with sorrow that you would never recover.”I did not before know that Manco had a wife. “You have been very good to me; and had it not been for her care, I must have died,” I replied. “I dare say I shall now soon get well; but can you tell me anything of my parents and my brothers and sisters? Is Ithulpo with you?”“I can give you no tidings of them,” he replied, turning away his head. “Ithulpo has not come back to us, and I know not where he is.”“My poor father and mother! they will think I have been killed,” I ejaculated. “It will make them grieve very much.”“They will trust in God and hope for the best, as you must, my friend,” he observed. “But I must not let you talk, or it will bring back the fever which has been on you. Nita will watch over you, for I have matters which call me away.” As he spoke, his young wife handed me a cup filled with a cooling draught distilled from herbs, which I drank eagerly off. “That will do you good,” he remarked. “To-morrow, if you are stronger, I will answer the questions I see you are eager to put. Now, farewell!” He shook his head when he saw that I was about again to speak, and went off across the glade.I next tried to interrogate Nita, speaking in the Quichua language, supposing she did not understand Spanish; but with a smile she signed to me not to talk.“Sleep, stranger, sleep,” she said in a sweet musical voice in her native tongue; “it will strengthen you to undergo the toils which are in store for you. My husband has promised to tell you more to-morrow. I must quit you if you persist in talking.”Seeing that she was determined not to answer any of the questions I longed to ask, I felt that it would be ungrateful not to do as she desired me, and I once more resigned myself to sleep.The next day I felt better and stronger, and my wounds were healing rapidly; but Manco did not return, and Nita told me that he was engaged in mustering and arming his followers. She would, however, give me no other information. I felt very sad and solitary, notwithstanding her kindness; for, whenever I could collect my thoughts, I could not help fearing that some misfortune had befallen those I best loved on earth. Fortunately I slept or dozed away the greater part of the day, and this, I suspect, contributed to the rapidity of my recovery, aided by my good constitution and the pure air I breathed. At night Nita sent an old woman to sit by me, who was relieved by a young lad of my own age. I expected to gain some information from the latter, for he looked very intelligent; but when I spoke to him he shook his head, and I afterwards discovered that the poor fellow was deaf and dumb. There were several huts near mine, one of which I found was occupied by Nita and her husband.Three days passed away, and at last, to my great joy, Manco came back. He seemed in high spirits when he spoke of the prospects of his people. He told me that the Indians throughout the whole of the mountain districts of Peru were up in arms, and that whenever they had encountered the Spaniards the latter had been defeated; though he confessed, with regret, that many atrocities had been committed by the enraged natives, and that the white inhabitants of whole villages and districts, including women and children, had been cruelly massacred, as had also the negroes and those with any white blood in their veins.I may as well here pause in my personal narrative to give a short account of the cause of the disastrous revolt of the Indians of Peru, from which so many thousand lives were sacrificed. I have already spoken of the systematic cruelty practised by the Spaniards from their first occupation of the country, and of the dreadful effects of themita(as the parcelling out of the people among the conquerors as slaves was called, under the pretence of enabling them to learn trades and to become domestic servants, as also to make them work in the mines); but another injustice was the immediate cause of the outbreak. This was therepartimiento. It was a law originally made by the Spanish Government, authorising thecorregidoresto distribute among the natives goods imported from Europe at fixed prices, and which they were compelled to purchase whether they required them or not. Consequently, all sorts of things damaged and useless were sent out from Spain to Peru, where they were certain of realising a profit to be obtained nowhere else. Among them might be found silk stockings, satins, and velvets—razors for men who never shaved, and spectacles for those whose eyesight was excellent. I remember especially a consignment of spectacles arriving to a merchant at Lima. He could nowhere dispose of them, till he bethought himself of applying to acorregidorof a neighbouring district, who was his friend, to help him. The latter threw no difficulty in the way.“Your goods shall be sold immediately, my friend,” he replied; and forthwith he issued an order that no Indian should appear at church or at festivals unless adorned with a pair of spectacles, intimating the place where they were to be sold. The poor people had to come and buy the spectacles, and to pay a very high price for them into the bargain.The Spanish Government, when they framed the law, had doubtless no idea that it would be thus abused; their intention being to civilise the people by the introduction of European clothing and luxuries, and in that manner to create a good market for the product of the industry of the mother country. It is one of the many examples of the folly of attempting to force the interests of commerce by unjust laws. For a time a few merchants sold their goods; but the ultimate result, independent of the bloodshed which it caused, was that the Indians took a dislike to Spanish manufactures, and the Peruvian market was ultimately lost for ever to Spain.Therepartimientohad lately been put in force by thecorregidoreswith even more than the usual injustice. Thecorregidoreswere, I must explain, Spanish municipal officers, who had very great authority in the districts they governed; and as they were the receivers of all taxes, tributes, and customs, they were able to ensure it with unsparing rapacity, which they did not fail to do in most instances.At length, after years of suffering, the Indian population were thoroughly aroused, and determined to throw off the hated yoke of the tyrants. Condorcanqui placed himself at their head; and before the Spaniards were aware of the storm which was gathering, he had collected a large but undisciplined army. He had two sons, called Andres and Mariano, and a brother named Diogo, all of whom assumed the title of Tupac Amaru, which means in the Quichua language,the highly endowed. Several others of his relations also assumed the same title, and took command of the patriots’ forces in other parts of the country. The Spaniards, despising the Indians, and regardless of any warnings they might have received, were completely taken by surprise, and defeated in all directions. The villages in whole districts were totally destroyed, and several large towns were besieged, many of which were captured and the inhabitants put to the sword.Of their first victory I had been a witness. Condorcanqui had beencaciqueof the province of Tungasuca, thecorregidorof which was among the most exacting and rapacious of his class. For a long time the Indian chief had brooded over the sufferings of his countrymen, till he resolved to avenge them. He confided his plans to a few othercaciquesonly, and to his own relatives. They prepared the people by means of faithful emissaries throughout the country; and arms and munitions of war were collected with the greatest secrecy and expedition. At an appointed day the signal of revolt was given; and thecorregidoresin many of the provinces, whom they looked upon as their principal oppressors, were seized and executed.Thecorregidorof Tungasuca had been entertaining a party of friends and some travellers at his house. The feast was over; they had taken theirsiesta; and other guests had assembled to pass the evening with music and dancing. His wife and daughters were there, and several ladies young and lovely. The gay guitar was sounding in the hall, and happy hearts and light feet were keeping time to the music. Thecorregidorwas standing apart from the rest in earnest conversation with a stranger.“This is my farewell assembly,” he observed. “I have now, thank Providence, amassed a fortune sufficient for my wants; and in a few weeks’ time I shall sail for my beloved Spain. This country is a good one for making money, but for nothing else.”“It is a fine country, though; and history tells us was once a perfect paradise,” remarked the stranger.“A paradise it might have been when the fields were better cultivated and more mines were worked; but the people have chosen to die off, and those who remain are idle and lazy, and will not work,” answered thecorregidor, with a scornful laugh.“They have lately taken to care very little for religion either,” observed Padre Diogo, the family chaplain, who now joined the speakers. “When we go among them with the saints to collect offerings, our boxes come back not a quarter full.”Just then a servant, pale with terror, rushed up to his master.“What is the matter?” asked thecorregidor. “Speak, fool, speak!” for the man could only utter some unintelligible sounds.“The Indians! the Indians!” cried the man, at length finding his voice. “The house is surrounded by thousands of them!”“Impossible!” exclaimed thecorregidor. “The slaves would not dare—”Just then an unearthly cry rent the air. The music ceased, and the strangers hurried to go—the ladies clasping their partners’ arms, and the children clinging to their mothers. Some of the men went to the windows. What the servant had reported was too true. On each side were seen, by the beams of the pale moon, dense masses of armed savages, forming an impenetrable barrier round the house; while others kept arriving from every direction.“What means all this?” exclaimed thecorregidor. “I will go out and order the slaves to disperse.”“O stay, stay!” cried his wife, clinging to him with an air of despair, which showed her too true forebodings of evil. “They are exasperated against you, and may do you harm. Let Padre Diogo go; he has influence with the people, and may persuade them to depart.”Thecorregidorwas easily persuaded to follow his wife’s counsel, for his conscience told him that the Indians had just cause to hate him. One of the strangers suggested that efforts should instantly be made to barricade the house, and prepare for defending it, should the Indians be assembled with any hostile intention. Thecorregidorwas about to give orders to that effect, when another loud unearthly shriek paralysed the nerves of all the inmates.“Oh, go, Señor Padre, go! save my husband and children!” cried the terrified wife.“Save us! save us!” cried the guests, now fully aware of the horrible danger that threatened them.Thus urged, Padre Diogo prepared, with many misgivings, to go forth and appeal to the people. He looked round with a sad countenance on those he had lately seen so full of life and gaiety.“May Heaven and the saints protect you, my children,” he said solemnly.Then taking in his hand a crucifix which hung in a little oratory near the hall, he opened the front door of the house and stepped out among the crowd. He held the sacred symbol of his faith aloft in his hand. It served as his safeguard. No one attempted to injure him; but before he could utter a word, he was surrounded and hurried away from the house. No one would listen to his prayers and entreaties.“Mercy, mercy, for the unfortunates in yonder mansion!” he cried.“Mercy, mercy, Señor Padre! did they ever show mercy to us?” exclaimed a voice from the crowd.He looked back; the Indians were pouring into the house. Loud agonised shrieks of women and children reached his ears. A few shots were heard, followed by the triumphant shouts of the Indians. Flames were seen bursting forth from the house. They burned up bright and clear in the night air. By their light he observed a man dragged along among a crowd of Indians. They stopped and appeared to be busily at work. In a short time a gibbet was erected near the burning building.“You are required to shrive a dying man, Señor Padre,” said an Indian who approached him.He was led towards the engine of death. There, beneath it, he found, pale with terror, and trembling in every limb, thecorregidor, his patron.“They tell me, my son, that I am to perform the last offices of religion for the dying,” said Padre Diogo.“For me, Padre, for me!” exclaimed thecorregidorin a voice of agony. “Alas! it is cruel mockery. They have murdered my wife and children, my guests and servants—all, all are dead! and now they will murder me.”“I will plead for you; I will try to save your life,” said the padre. “But they cannot have been so cruel—they cannot have murdered those innocents!”“Alas! I speak true. Before my eyes they slew all I love on earth, and they only preserved me to make me endure longer suffering,” said the wretched man.“You are delaying to perform your duty,” cried a voice from among the crowd of Indians.“Mercy, mercy, for him, my children!” ejaculated the padre.“He showed us none,” answered a hundred voices in return. “Proceed, proceed, or he must die without shrift.”The padre felt there was no hope; but he attempted to make another appeal. He was answered in the same strain.“My son, you must prepare your soul for another world,” he whispered into the ear of thecorregidor.The unhappy man saw that indeed there was no hope for him, but still he clung to life. He dared not die. At that moment all his deeds of cruelty, all his tyranny, came crowding to his memory in a light they had never before worn. Of what use now was to him the wealth he had thus unjustly acquired? Oh! if men would at all times and seasons remember that they must one day die, and give an account of their deeds on earth, would it not restrain them from committing acts of injustice and wrong? Thecorregidorattempted to enumerate his misdeeds. They were too many for him to recollect.“I have offended—I have miserably offended!” he exclaimed in his agony.“God is full of mercy. He rejoices in pardoning the repentant sinner,” answered the padre.But his words brought no hope to a doubting mind. He felt that his crimes were too great for pardon; though till that moment he had not considered them as crimes.The priest then proceeded to administer to him the last sacrament of the Roman Catholic Church. He had scarcely concluded, when the Indians, who had stood around in reverential silence, raised a loud clamour for the instant execution of the culprit; but Padre Diogo was a brave man.“My children,” he cried, “you have already committed a great sin in murdering the innocents who this night have fallen by your hands. Their blood will cry to Heaven for vengeance. Preserve this man’s life, repent, and pray for mercy.”Acaciquenow stepped forward from among the crowd.“Señor Padre,” he said, “we listen to your words with reverence, for you are a priest, and have ever proved our friend; but this man was placed in authority over us, and most cruelly did he abuse that authority. He has been tried and found guilty. As his ancestors murdered our last Inca, the great Atahualpa, so he must die. He has but one minute more to live. We have already shown him more mercy than he deserves.”The tone, as much as the words of the speaker, convinced the padre that his penitent must die. To the last he stood by his side, whispering such words of consolation as he could offer. Several Indians, appointed as executioners, advanced; and in an instant the miserable man was hurried into eternity.“For this man’s death, the vengeance of his countrymen will fall terribly on your heads, my children,” exclaimed the padre; for the proud spirit of the Spaniard was aroused within his bosom, and he did not fear what they might do to him. Too truly were his words afterwards verified. No one seemed to heed what he said; and he was led away from the spot by a party of Indians, in whose charge he was given by the chief Tupac Amaru. To his horror, he found that every man, woman, and child among the white inhabitants of the village had fallen victims to the exasperated fury of the Indians.This account was given me some time afterwards by Padre Diogo himself; though I thought the present a proper opportunity of introducing it.I will now return to my own narrative. I rapidly recovered my strength, and in a few more days was able to leave the hut and walk about without assistance; but my anxiety for the fate of my family was in no way relieved; and though Manco made all the inquiries in his power, he could afford me no consolation. I was sitting one evening in front of the hut, meditating what course to pursue, when Manco came and threw himself on the ground by my side. He took my hand and looked kindly in my face; but I saw that his countenance wore an expression of deep melancholy. With a trembling voice I asked him what news he had to communicate.“Bad news, bad news, my young friend,” he said; and then stopped, as if afraid of proceeding.“Of my parents?” I inquired, for I could not bear the agony of suspense. “Speak, Manco; has Ithulpo not arrived?”“Alas! no,” he answered, sorrowfully shaking his head. “I have too certain evidence of Ithulpo’s death; and, faithful as he was, he would never have deserted your parents. His body has been discovered near a village which has been attacked and burned by my countrymen. There can be no doubt that they had taken refuge within it. Alas that I should say it, who have received such benefits from them! The Indians put to the sword every inhabitant they found there, and among them your parents must have perished.”At first I was stunned with what he said, though I could not bring myself to believe the horrid tale.“I will go in search of them,” I at length exclaimed. “I will find them if they are alive; or I must see their bodies, if, as you say, they have been murdered, before I can believe you. The Indians, whom they always loved and pitied, could not have been guilty of such barbarity. If your countrymen have murdered their benefactors, I tell you that they are miserable worthless wretches; and the Spaniards will be justified in sweeping them from the face of the earth.”As I gave utterance to these exclamations, I felt my spirit maddening within me. I cared not what I said; I felt no fear for the consequences. At first, after I had spoken, a cloud came over Manco’s brow; but it quickly cleared away, and he regarded me with looks of deep commiseration.“Should I not feel as he does, if all those I loved best on earth had been slaughtered?” he muttered to himself. “I feel for you, my friend, and most deeply grieve,” he said aloud, taking my hand, which I had withdrawn, and watering it with his tears. “Yet you are unjust in thus speaking of my people. They did not kill your parents knowingly. The sin rests with the Spaniards, whom they desired to punish; and the innocent have perished with the guilty. Sure I am that not an Indian would have injured them; and had they been able to come into our camp, they would have been received with honour and reverence.”I hung down my head, and my bursting heart at length found relief in tears. I was still very weak, or I believe that my feelings would have assumed a fiercer character.“I have been unjust to you, Manco,” I said, when I could once more give utterance to my thoughts. “I will try not to blame your countrymen for your sake; but I must leave you, to discover whether your dreadful report is true or false.”He took my hand again, and pressed it within his own. It was night before I was tolerably composed; and as I threw myself on my couch within the hut, I wept bitterly as a child, till sleep came to relieve my misery. I must not dwell on the anguish I felt on waking—the utter wretchedness of the next day. I was too ill to move, though I prayed for strength to enable me to prosecute my search. Strength and health came again at last; and in four days after I had heard the account given by Manco, I insisted that I was able to undergo the fatigue to which I must be exposed. Nothing that Manco or his wife could say had power to deter me.“You will be taken by the cruel Spaniards, and executed as a spy,” said Nita, the tears dropping from her eyes as she spoke.“No Indian on whom you can rely will be able to accompany you, and you cannot find your way alone,” observed Manco. “Besides, in these unhappy times robbers and desperadoes of every sort are ranging through the country; and if you escape other dangers, they will murder you.”“My kind friends,” I answered, taking both their hands, “I feel your regard for me; but I fear neither Spaniards nor Indians, nor robbers nor wild beasts, nor deserts nor storms, nor heat nor cold, nor hunger nor thirst. I have a holy duty to perform, and I should be unworthy of the name I bear if I shrunk from encountering the danger which may be before me.”“If go you must, and I see that there is no use in attempting to dissuade you, I will give you every assistance in my power,” said Manco.And thus it was arranged that I was to set out on my perilous undertaking the next day but one, by which time he would be able to accompany me to the foot of the mountains, though he would not be absent long from his important duty in the patriots’ army.
When consciousness at length returned, a very different scene met my sight. I had an idea that something dreadful had occurred, but what it was I could not tell. My belief was, that I had been dreaming that I had witnessed a battle, that I had fallen from my horse and hurt myself, and that I had been lifted up and carried along on men’s shoulders to some distant place. I had an indistinct recollection of a face full of tenderness often bending over me; but whether it were white or red I could not tell, the expression only had made any impression on me. There was, however, so great a want of clearness and reality in what I have described, that when I once more began to collect my thoughts, I was unable to determine whether or not I had been dreaming all the time, and was still half asleep.
At length I opened my eyes, and discovered that I was lying under the shade of a small hut or wigwam, composed of the boughs of trees, and thatched carefully over with straw. My couch was on the ground; but it was a very soft one, for the bed was stuffed with a quantity of the fine wool of the vicuñas, and covered with a delicately woven woollen stuff.
The hut stood in an open space amid a forest of gigantic trees, such as a tropical clime can alone produce. Beyond were dark and frowning rocks, above which rose ridges of lofty mountains, one overtopping the other, till the more distant, covered with a mantle of everlasting snow, seemed lost in the clouds. The sky overhead was of intense blue; and through it sailed, with outstretched wings, a mighty condor, carrying in his talons a kid he had snatched from the valley below to his eyrie on the summit of the rugged cliffs in the distance. I watched the majestic bird as it sailed along, forgetful of my own condition, and wondering whether any one would be able to rescue the poor animal from its impending fate. On it went, growing smaller and smaller, till it became a mere speck in the sky, and then disappeared altogether.
This trifling circumstance served to arouse me, and I began to look about me with some attention. I discovered, at length, that the forest glade was not tenantless, for the part farthest removed from me was crowded with dense masses of Indians, who were collected round one who, by his height, his rich dress, and noble bearing, I conjectured to be a chief, though I never recollected to have seen him before. Other Indians kept arriving from all sides through the forest. He stood elevated above the rest on a mound of earth under a canopy of cloth of many colours; and I observed that theborla, the red fringe worn only in ancient days by the proud Incas, bound his brow. From this sign I could have no doubt that he was the well-known chieftain, Tupac Amaru, the lineal descendant of the Incas, and the elder uncle of my friend Manco. By the Indians he had been known usually by the name of Condorcanqui, and by the Spanish as Don José Gabriel, Marquis de Alcalises, a title which had been given to one of his ancestors by the King of Spain.
He was addressing the multitude in a harangue which, from the distance he was from me, I could not hear. The people listened with deep earnestness and silence, till some expression aroused their passions, when brandishing their weapons, their bows, their clubs and spears, they uttered shouts of approval, or wild cries of defiance and hatred to their foe.
I had no doubt that I was in one of the strongholds of the Indians, among the mountains on the eastern side of the Andes. The Inca, for so I may call him, continued speaking for an hour or more, when I again fell off into a sleep or stupor. I had discovered that I was wounded both in the head and side; and I felt dreadfully weak and ill. The sun was just gliding behind the mountains when I again opened my eyes. By my side sat a young and very beautiful woman, her large black eyes and the tinge of copper in her complexion showing that she was of Indian birth.
In front of the hut stood a man whose figure I thought I knew. An exclamation of surprise escaped my lips. He turned his head at the sound of my voice, and I recognised, to my joy, the chief Manco. He knelt down by my side.
“Ah! my young friend, I rejoice to hear you speak once again,” he said. “My wife and I have watched over you anxiously, for we thought with sorrow that you would never recover.”
I did not before know that Manco had a wife. “You have been very good to me; and had it not been for her care, I must have died,” I replied. “I dare say I shall now soon get well; but can you tell me anything of my parents and my brothers and sisters? Is Ithulpo with you?”
“I can give you no tidings of them,” he replied, turning away his head. “Ithulpo has not come back to us, and I know not where he is.”
“My poor father and mother! they will think I have been killed,” I ejaculated. “It will make them grieve very much.”
“They will trust in God and hope for the best, as you must, my friend,” he observed. “But I must not let you talk, or it will bring back the fever which has been on you. Nita will watch over you, for I have matters which call me away.” As he spoke, his young wife handed me a cup filled with a cooling draught distilled from herbs, which I drank eagerly off. “That will do you good,” he remarked. “To-morrow, if you are stronger, I will answer the questions I see you are eager to put. Now, farewell!” He shook his head when he saw that I was about again to speak, and went off across the glade.
I next tried to interrogate Nita, speaking in the Quichua language, supposing she did not understand Spanish; but with a smile she signed to me not to talk.
“Sleep, stranger, sleep,” she said in a sweet musical voice in her native tongue; “it will strengthen you to undergo the toils which are in store for you. My husband has promised to tell you more to-morrow. I must quit you if you persist in talking.”
Seeing that she was determined not to answer any of the questions I longed to ask, I felt that it would be ungrateful not to do as she desired me, and I once more resigned myself to sleep.
The next day I felt better and stronger, and my wounds were healing rapidly; but Manco did not return, and Nita told me that he was engaged in mustering and arming his followers. She would, however, give me no other information. I felt very sad and solitary, notwithstanding her kindness; for, whenever I could collect my thoughts, I could not help fearing that some misfortune had befallen those I best loved on earth. Fortunately I slept or dozed away the greater part of the day, and this, I suspect, contributed to the rapidity of my recovery, aided by my good constitution and the pure air I breathed. At night Nita sent an old woman to sit by me, who was relieved by a young lad of my own age. I expected to gain some information from the latter, for he looked very intelligent; but when I spoke to him he shook his head, and I afterwards discovered that the poor fellow was deaf and dumb. There were several huts near mine, one of which I found was occupied by Nita and her husband.
Three days passed away, and at last, to my great joy, Manco came back. He seemed in high spirits when he spoke of the prospects of his people. He told me that the Indians throughout the whole of the mountain districts of Peru were up in arms, and that whenever they had encountered the Spaniards the latter had been defeated; though he confessed, with regret, that many atrocities had been committed by the enraged natives, and that the white inhabitants of whole villages and districts, including women and children, had been cruelly massacred, as had also the negroes and those with any white blood in their veins.
I may as well here pause in my personal narrative to give a short account of the cause of the disastrous revolt of the Indians of Peru, from which so many thousand lives were sacrificed. I have already spoken of the systematic cruelty practised by the Spaniards from their first occupation of the country, and of the dreadful effects of themita(as the parcelling out of the people among the conquerors as slaves was called, under the pretence of enabling them to learn trades and to become domestic servants, as also to make them work in the mines); but another injustice was the immediate cause of the outbreak. This was therepartimiento. It was a law originally made by the Spanish Government, authorising thecorregidoresto distribute among the natives goods imported from Europe at fixed prices, and which they were compelled to purchase whether they required them or not. Consequently, all sorts of things damaged and useless were sent out from Spain to Peru, where they were certain of realising a profit to be obtained nowhere else. Among them might be found silk stockings, satins, and velvets—razors for men who never shaved, and spectacles for those whose eyesight was excellent. I remember especially a consignment of spectacles arriving to a merchant at Lima. He could nowhere dispose of them, till he bethought himself of applying to acorregidorof a neighbouring district, who was his friend, to help him. The latter threw no difficulty in the way.
“Your goods shall be sold immediately, my friend,” he replied; and forthwith he issued an order that no Indian should appear at church or at festivals unless adorned with a pair of spectacles, intimating the place where they were to be sold. The poor people had to come and buy the spectacles, and to pay a very high price for them into the bargain.
The Spanish Government, when they framed the law, had doubtless no idea that it would be thus abused; their intention being to civilise the people by the introduction of European clothing and luxuries, and in that manner to create a good market for the product of the industry of the mother country. It is one of the many examples of the folly of attempting to force the interests of commerce by unjust laws. For a time a few merchants sold their goods; but the ultimate result, independent of the bloodshed which it caused, was that the Indians took a dislike to Spanish manufactures, and the Peruvian market was ultimately lost for ever to Spain.
Therepartimientohad lately been put in force by thecorregidoreswith even more than the usual injustice. Thecorregidoreswere, I must explain, Spanish municipal officers, who had very great authority in the districts they governed; and as they were the receivers of all taxes, tributes, and customs, they were able to ensure it with unsparing rapacity, which they did not fail to do in most instances.
At length, after years of suffering, the Indian population were thoroughly aroused, and determined to throw off the hated yoke of the tyrants. Condorcanqui placed himself at their head; and before the Spaniards were aware of the storm which was gathering, he had collected a large but undisciplined army. He had two sons, called Andres and Mariano, and a brother named Diogo, all of whom assumed the title of Tupac Amaru, which means in the Quichua language,the highly endowed. Several others of his relations also assumed the same title, and took command of the patriots’ forces in other parts of the country. The Spaniards, despising the Indians, and regardless of any warnings they might have received, were completely taken by surprise, and defeated in all directions. The villages in whole districts were totally destroyed, and several large towns were besieged, many of which were captured and the inhabitants put to the sword.
Of their first victory I had been a witness. Condorcanqui had beencaciqueof the province of Tungasuca, thecorregidorof which was among the most exacting and rapacious of his class. For a long time the Indian chief had brooded over the sufferings of his countrymen, till he resolved to avenge them. He confided his plans to a few othercaciquesonly, and to his own relatives. They prepared the people by means of faithful emissaries throughout the country; and arms and munitions of war were collected with the greatest secrecy and expedition. At an appointed day the signal of revolt was given; and thecorregidoresin many of the provinces, whom they looked upon as their principal oppressors, were seized and executed.
Thecorregidorof Tungasuca had been entertaining a party of friends and some travellers at his house. The feast was over; they had taken theirsiesta; and other guests had assembled to pass the evening with music and dancing. His wife and daughters were there, and several ladies young and lovely. The gay guitar was sounding in the hall, and happy hearts and light feet were keeping time to the music. Thecorregidorwas standing apart from the rest in earnest conversation with a stranger.
“This is my farewell assembly,” he observed. “I have now, thank Providence, amassed a fortune sufficient for my wants; and in a few weeks’ time I shall sail for my beloved Spain. This country is a good one for making money, but for nothing else.”
“It is a fine country, though; and history tells us was once a perfect paradise,” remarked the stranger.
“A paradise it might have been when the fields were better cultivated and more mines were worked; but the people have chosen to die off, and those who remain are idle and lazy, and will not work,” answered thecorregidor, with a scornful laugh.
“They have lately taken to care very little for religion either,” observed Padre Diogo, the family chaplain, who now joined the speakers. “When we go among them with the saints to collect offerings, our boxes come back not a quarter full.”
Just then a servant, pale with terror, rushed up to his master.
“What is the matter?” asked thecorregidor. “Speak, fool, speak!” for the man could only utter some unintelligible sounds.
“The Indians! the Indians!” cried the man, at length finding his voice. “The house is surrounded by thousands of them!”
“Impossible!” exclaimed thecorregidor. “The slaves would not dare—”
Just then an unearthly cry rent the air. The music ceased, and the strangers hurried to go—the ladies clasping their partners’ arms, and the children clinging to their mothers. Some of the men went to the windows. What the servant had reported was too true. On each side were seen, by the beams of the pale moon, dense masses of armed savages, forming an impenetrable barrier round the house; while others kept arriving from every direction.
“What means all this?” exclaimed thecorregidor. “I will go out and order the slaves to disperse.”
“O stay, stay!” cried his wife, clinging to him with an air of despair, which showed her too true forebodings of evil. “They are exasperated against you, and may do you harm. Let Padre Diogo go; he has influence with the people, and may persuade them to depart.”
Thecorregidorwas easily persuaded to follow his wife’s counsel, for his conscience told him that the Indians had just cause to hate him. One of the strangers suggested that efforts should instantly be made to barricade the house, and prepare for defending it, should the Indians be assembled with any hostile intention. Thecorregidorwas about to give orders to that effect, when another loud unearthly shriek paralysed the nerves of all the inmates.
“Oh, go, Señor Padre, go! save my husband and children!” cried the terrified wife.
“Save us! save us!” cried the guests, now fully aware of the horrible danger that threatened them.
Thus urged, Padre Diogo prepared, with many misgivings, to go forth and appeal to the people. He looked round with a sad countenance on those he had lately seen so full of life and gaiety.
“May Heaven and the saints protect you, my children,” he said solemnly.
Then taking in his hand a crucifix which hung in a little oratory near the hall, he opened the front door of the house and stepped out among the crowd. He held the sacred symbol of his faith aloft in his hand. It served as his safeguard. No one attempted to injure him; but before he could utter a word, he was surrounded and hurried away from the house. No one would listen to his prayers and entreaties.
“Mercy, mercy, for the unfortunates in yonder mansion!” he cried.
“Mercy, mercy, Señor Padre! did they ever show mercy to us?” exclaimed a voice from the crowd.
He looked back; the Indians were pouring into the house. Loud agonised shrieks of women and children reached his ears. A few shots were heard, followed by the triumphant shouts of the Indians. Flames were seen bursting forth from the house. They burned up bright and clear in the night air. By their light he observed a man dragged along among a crowd of Indians. They stopped and appeared to be busily at work. In a short time a gibbet was erected near the burning building.
“You are required to shrive a dying man, Señor Padre,” said an Indian who approached him.
He was led towards the engine of death. There, beneath it, he found, pale with terror, and trembling in every limb, thecorregidor, his patron.
“They tell me, my son, that I am to perform the last offices of religion for the dying,” said Padre Diogo.
“For me, Padre, for me!” exclaimed thecorregidorin a voice of agony. “Alas! it is cruel mockery. They have murdered my wife and children, my guests and servants—all, all are dead! and now they will murder me.”
“I will plead for you; I will try to save your life,” said the padre. “But they cannot have been so cruel—they cannot have murdered those innocents!”
“Alas! I speak true. Before my eyes they slew all I love on earth, and they only preserved me to make me endure longer suffering,” said the wretched man.
“You are delaying to perform your duty,” cried a voice from among the crowd of Indians.
“Mercy, mercy, for him, my children!” ejaculated the padre.
“He showed us none,” answered a hundred voices in return. “Proceed, proceed, or he must die without shrift.”
The padre felt there was no hope; but he attempted to make another appeal. He was answered in the same strain.
“My son, you must prepare your soul for another world,” he whispered into the ear of thecorregidor.
The unhappy man saw that indeed there was no hope for him, but still he clung to life. He dared not die. At that moment all his deeds of cruelty, all his tyranny, came crowding to his memory in a light they had never before worn. Of what use now was to him the wealth he had thus unjustly acquired? Oh! if men would at all times and seasons remember that they must one day die, and give an account of their deeds on earth, would it not restrain them from committing acts of injustice and wrong? Thecorregidorattempted to enumerate his misdeeds. They were too many for him to recollect.
“I have offended—I have miserably offended!” he exclaimed in his agony.
“God is full of mercy. He rejoices in pardoning the repentant sinner,” answered the padre.
But his words brought no hope to a doubting mind. He felt that his crimes were too great for pardon; though till that moment he had not considered them as crimes.
The priest then proceeded to administer to him the last sacrament of the Roman Catholic Church. He had scarcely concluded, when the Indians, who had stood around in reverential silence, raised a loud clamour for the instant execution of the culprit; but Padre Diogo was a brave man.
“My children,” he cried, “you have already committed a great sin in murdering the innocents who this night have fallen by your hands. Their blood will cry to Heaven for vengeance. Preserve this man’s life, repent, and pray for mercy.”
Acaciquenow stepped forward from among the crowd.
“Señor Padre,” he said, “we listen to your words with reverence, for you are a priest, and have ever proved our friend; but this man was placed in authority over us, and most cruelly did he abuse that authority. He has been tried and found guilty. As his ancestors murdered our last Inca, the great Atahualpa, so he must die. He has but one minute more to live. We have already shown him more mercy than he deserves.”
The tone, as much as the words of the speaker, convinced the padre that his penitent must die. To the last he stood by his side, whispering such words of consolation as he could offer. Several Indians, appointed as executioners, advanced; and in an instant the miserable man was hurried into eternity.
“For this man’s death, the vengeance of his countrymen will fall terribly on your heads, my children,” exclaimed the padre; for the proud spirit of the Spaniard was aroused within his bosom, and he did not fear what they might do to him. Too truly were his words afterwards verified. No one seemed to heed what he said; and he was led away from the spot by a party of Indians, in whose charge he was given by the chief Tupac Amaru. To his horror, he found that every man, woman, and child among the white inhabitants of the village had fallen victims to the exasperated fury of the Indians.
This account was given me some time afterwards by Padre Diogo himself; though I thought the present a proper opportunity of introducing it.
I will now return to my own narrative. I rapidly recovered my strength, and in a few more days was able to leave the hut and walk about without assistance; but my anxiety for the fate of my family was in no way relieved; and though Manco made all the inquiries in his power, he could afford me no consolation. I was sitting one evening in front of the hut, meditating what course to pursue, when Manco came and threw himself on the ground by my side. He took my hand and looked kindly in my face; but I saw that his countenance wore an expression of deep melancholy. With a trembling voice I asked him what news he had to communicate.
“Bad news, bad news, my young friend,” he said; and then stopped, as if afraid of proceeding.
“Of my parents?” I inquired, for I could not bear the agony of suspense. “Speak, Manco; has Ithulpo not arrived?”
“Alas! no,” he answered, sorrowfully shaking his head. “I have too certain evidence of Ithulpo’s death; and, faithful as he was, he would never have deserted your parents. His body has been discovered near a village which has been attacked and burned by my countrymen. There can be no doubt that they had taken refuge within it. Alas that I should say it, who have received such benefits from them! The Indians put to the sword every inhabitant they found there, and among them your parents must have perished.”
At first I was stunned with what he said, though I could not bring myself to believe the horrid tale.
“I will go in search of them,” I at length exclaimed. “I will find them if they are alive; or I must see their bodies, if, as you say, they have been murdered, before I can believe you. The Indians, whom they always loved and pitied, could not have been guilty of such barbarity. If your countrymen have murdered their benefactors, I tell you that they are miserable worthless wretches; and the Spaniards will be justified in sweeping them from the face of the earth.”
As I gave utterance to these exclamations, I felt my spirit maddening within me. I cared not what I said; I felt no fear for the consequences. At first, after I had spoken, a cloud came over Manco’s brow; but it quickly cleared away, and he regarded me with looks of deep commiseration.
“Should I not feel as he does, if all those I loved best on earth had been slaughtered?” he muttered to himself. “I feel for you, my friend, and most deeply grieve,” he said aloud, taking my hand, which I had withdrawn, and watering it with his tears. “Yet you are unjust in thus speaking of my people. They did not kill your parents knowingly. The sin rests with the Spaniards, whom they desired to punish; and the innocent have perished with the guilty. Sure I am that not an Indian would have injured them; and had they been able to come into our camp, they would have been received with honour and reverence.”
I hung down my head, and my bursting heart at length found relief in tears. I was still very weak, or I believe that my feelings would have assumed a fiercer character.
“I have been unjust to you, Manco,” I said, when I could once more give utterance to my thoughts. “I will try not to blame your countrymen for your sake; but I must leave you, to discover whether your dreadful report is true or false.”
He took my hand again, and pressed it within his own. It was night before I was tolerably composed; and as I threw myself on my couch within the hut, I wept bitterly as a child, till sleep came to relieve my misery. I must not dwell on the anguish I felt on waking—the utter wretchedness of the next day. I was too ill to move, though I prayed for strength to enable me to prosecute my search. Strength and health came again at last; and in four days after I had heard the account given by Manco, I insisted that I was able to undergo the fatigue to which I must be exposed. Nothing that Manco or his wife could say had power to deter me.
“You will be taken by the cruel Spaniards, and executed as a spy,” said Nita, the tears dropping from her eyes as she spoke.
“No Indian on whom you can rely will be able to accompany you, and you cannot find your way alone,” observed Manco. “Besides, in these unhappy times robbers and desperadoes of every sort are ranging through the country; and if you escape other dangers, they will murder you.”
“My kind friends,” I answered, taking both their hands, “I feel your regard for me; but I fear neither Spaniards nor Indians, nor robbers nor wild beasts, nor deserts nor storms, nor heat nor cold, nor hunger nor thirst. I have a holy duty to perform, and I should be unworthy of the name I bear if I shrunk from encountering the danger which may be before me.”
“If go you must, and I see that there is no use in attempting to dissuade you, I will give you every assistance in my power,” said Manco.
And thus it was arranged that I was to set out on my perilous undertaking the next day but one, by which time he would be able to accompany me to the foot of the mountains, though he would not be absent long from his important duty in the patriots’ army.
Chapter Ten.My wanderings with Manco—How a Padre told his beads, but his beads told him nothing.The morning I was to set out arrived at last, and I bid farewell to Nita and her little infant, which I kissed over and over again for its mother’s sake; for my heart was full of gratitude for her kindness and compassion. Manco had procured a mule for me—a small but strong animal, with great sagacity. It was very sure-footed, and could climb up the most rugged rocks, and slip down mountain precipices like a goat. It was of the greatest value to me; for, weak as I was, I could not possibly have walked a mile of my journey. We had to descend some way, and then to travel along the side of the mountain range, in order to gain the road which led across the Cordilleras. I speak of the path as a road; but in many spots it was so narrow and difficult that I thought it would be impossible for any mule to get along. Here and there large blocks of stone had been placed, with the intention of facilitating the ascent. My mule sprung up them with such violent jerks that I was at first almost thrown over his head; but when we had to descend, he picked his way with great caution. Manco went before me with a long pole in his hand, ready to assist me if I required it.After proceeding some way, I observed a large valley spread out at our feet. It was full of people and numerous tents and huts. Manco pointed to it with an expression of pride in his countenance.“There,” said he, “you see the headquarters of the army which is to liberate our country from the power of the conqueror. The Inca Tupac Amaru himself, and his two young and noble sons, are there. In a few days the whole army will be assembled, when we march upon Cuzco, once more to reinstate our sovereign in the capital of his ancestors.”Manco’s dark eyes flashed proudly as he spoke; for after the recent success of the Indian arms he had no doubt of victory. I thought differently. Hitherto the Indians had fought among mountains, where discipline was of little avail, and their bows and slings could send their missiles with effect; or they had attacked unfortified and unprepared villages; but in the neighbourhood of Cuzco they would be in an open valley, where the cavalry and artillery of the Spaniards could be brought into play, and I trembled for the consequences. I was unwilling to damp Manco’s ardour; but I endeavoured to point out the dangers I foresaw, and urged him to persuade the chiefs not to be over-confident.We kept along the ridge of the height forming the side of the valley without descending, and I was thus able to obtain a full view of the Indian army. I was surprised not only at the vast number of people collected, but at the apparent order which prevailed, and at the great state which the Inca and his chief officers maintained. In the centre of the camp, amid a number of banners fluttering in the breeze, was erected a large canopy of gay-coloured cloth, beneath which was a throne, richly ornamented with gold and silver. A flight of steps led to it, along which were ranged a body of guards armed with battle-axes and spears. The Inca sat on his throne, dressed in the ancient costume of his ancestors, which I have before described; and officers of various ranks kept continually coming up to receive orders. As they approached, they bowed reverentially before him, and knelt at his feet while he addressed them. I could scarcely believe that what I saw was a reality, and that I was not dreaming of the accounts I had read of the early history of the country. It did not then occur to me that much valuable time was thus lost to the Indian cause in idle ceremony; and that Tupac Amaru would have had a better chance of success had he at once swept the country from north to south with his forces, before the Spaniards had recovered from their terror and dismay at their first defeat.After stopping for a few minutes to gaze at the novel and interesting scene, we turned up a path through a ravine, and were quickly again in the solitude of the mountains. We travelled upwards for three days, sleeping at nights at the huts of Indians, where we received a warm welcome from their wives, but the men were in all cases absent. We were now crossing the Puna heights, as the table-lands on the upper part of the Cordilleras are called. We were some fourteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. On either side arose the lofty summits of the Cordilleras, covered with the ice of centuries. Before us stretched out to a great extent the level heights, covered with the dull yellow Puna grass, blending its tint with the greenish hue of the glaciers. It was truly a wild and desolate scene. Herds of vicuñas approached to gaze with wonder at us, and then turning affrighted, fled away with the swiftness of the wind. The Puna stag, with stately step, advanced from his lair in the recesses of the mountains, and gazed on us with his large wondering eyes. Farther off were groups of huancas, looking cautiously at us as we passed, while the rock-rabbits disported nimbly around us. I begged Manco not to shoot them, for we did not require food, and I never liked killing an animal for sport.The mountain air and exercise had completely restored my strength, when on a sudden an indescribable oppression overcame me. My heart throbbed audibly, and my breathing became short and interrupted, while a weight as if of lead lay on my chest. My lips swelled and burst, blood flowed from my eyelids, and I began to lose my senses. I should have fallen from my mule had not Manco lifted me off. A grey mist floated before my eyes, and I could neither see, hear, nor feel distinctly. Manco sat down, and took my head in his lap; when after a time I began to recover, and I saw that he was anxiously looking at a dense mass of clouds gathering above us.“Up, up, my friend, and mount if you value your life!” he said. “You are better now. A storm is about to burst, and we must face it boldly.”Scarcely had he spoken, when, loud peals of thunder were heard, and lightning darted from the skies. Down, too, came the snow in flakes, so heavy that it was impossible to see many yards before us.“We must push on,” observed Manco. “We have lost much time already, and night will overtake us before we can reach the nearest village.” The snow, however, fell faster, and completely concealed all signs of the path. “When the snow-storm has ceased, I shall easily find the way by the flight of the birds we are certain to see,” he continued. “So, fear not. You are suffering from the keen air of the mountains, and you will quickly recover when we begin to descend to lower ground.”Even his sagacity was at fault, and we soon found that we had wandered from the right path. As I did not grow worse, I kept up my spirits. Two or three hours passed away, and the snow ceased. It had scarcely done so, when the clouds opened, and the bright glance of the burning sun burst forth dazzlingly on the white expanse of snow before me. In a moment I felt my eyes stricken with almost total blindness. A cry of horror escaped me. I fancied that I should not recover. Manco tried to console me, assuring me that I was merely suffering from thesurumpe, a common complaint in those regions.“I ought to have guarded you against it,” he said. “Strangers unaccustomed to the sight of the glittering snow constantly suffer from it; but it will soon pass away.”I, however, thought differently, though I was unwilling to complain to him. We went on as fast as we could; but the sun set when we were still a long way from the edge of the plain. We had with difficulty avoided several swamps, in which he had told me animals and men were sometimes lost. They are the chief dangers of that region. Fortunately, he recognised a range of lofty rocks near us.“There is a cavern within them not far off, where we must rest for the night,” he said. “We might have a worse lodging, for we shall there, at all events, be sheltered from the snow and wind.”It was now perfectly dark; but after searching for some time, we succeeded in discovering the cavern. While he tethered my male outside, I staggered in, and, overcome with fatigue and the pain I was suffering, sunk upon the ground, a stone which lay near me serving for a pillow. I begged him to let me remain where I was, while he refreshed himself with some of the provisions we had brought with us. We had no means of striking a light: and as he could afford me no assistance beyond throwing a poncho over me, he did not interfere; but soon afterwards, stretching himself out near me, he fell asleep. Having been on foot all day, he required rest as much as I did. As soon as I fell into a slumber, the smarting pain of thesurumpeawoke me, and I was obliged to give up all hope of sleep. How long the night seemed! My thoughts all the time were active, and I need scarcely say that they were fixed on my expedition, and means of accomplishing my object.It was towards the morning, when a dreadful turn was given to them. Happening to stretch out my hand, it came in contact with a cold clammy substance. I drew it back, and an indescribable horror crept over me; but influenced by an impulse I could not control, I again put it out towards the object. It rested on the face of a human being. I was certain that I could not be mistaken. I felt the mouth, and nose, and hair; but the features were rigid and immoveable. It was that of a corpse. Constitutionally fearless, under other circumstances I should have got up and removed myself from the disagreeable neighbourhood, supposing that some unfortunate traveller had like us taken shelter there, and died from cold or hunger; but weak with mental and bodily suffering, I had now no power over myself, and lay trembling with horror, not even venturing to call out to Manco to break the dreadful spell which was upon me. It is impossible to describe my feelings, or the ideas which took possession of my mind. Whose corpse could it be? Might there not be others in the cave? I thought, if I could be said to be thinking. At last, I believe I swooned away, for most certainly I did not sleep. An exclamation from Manco aroused me. Daylight was streaming into the cavern, and he was sitting up and gazing towards me. In another instant he was by my side, and, with careful forethought, was endeavouring to keep my attention fixed on himself, so as to prevent me from seeing the dreadful objects in the inner part of the cavern.“Manco,” I said, “I have had a horrid dream. I fancied that the cavern was full of corpses.” As I spoke I really thought I had been dreaming.Without answering me, he lifted me up, and led me towards the open air. An impulse I could not restrain made me turn my head; and on the ground, close to where I had rested, I saw the corpse of a man. Trembling in every limb, I stopped to look at it. It was that of a white man. Several ghastly wounds were seen on the broad chest, and another on the head. The dress and the full black beard and moustache showed me that he was a Spaniard. There were no other corpses to be seen; and as I looked at the object in the broad daylight, with the fresh breeze blowing in my face, the undefined horror I had before felt completely vanished. I felt ashamed of my previous fears, and releasing myself from his support, assured him that I had recovered my strength. The effort itself assisted to restore my nerves to their usual tension; and I was able to turn back and examine the corpse.“Who can have murdered the man and placed him here?” I asked.Manco shook his head. “It is a bad thing—a very bad thing!” he replied, as he examined the wounds of the man. “I fear my countrymen have done it. He must have been taken prisoner, for I find the marks of cords round his wrists, and he attempted to escape, and thus was killed; but ask no further questions. Come, it is time to proceed.”The little mule was safe outside, so I mounted and hastened from the spot.As I rode on, my spirits returned with the air and exercise, and my mind no longer dwelt on the events of the previous night; and the effects of thesurumpealso began to wear off. Several rock-rabbits crossed our path, two of which Manco shot; and when we came to a height which sheltered us from the wind, we halted for breakfast. Having tethered the mule, we set to work to collect the dry grass and the stems of creepers growing from the clefts of the rocks for fuel. Manco had with him the means of striking a light, and a fire was soon kindled, over which we cooked the rabbits and boiled some cocoa in a tin pannikin, by the aid of which, with some Indian corn bread, we made a very fair meal. In an hour more we reached the edge of theAlto, or high plain, over which we had been travelling. Before us lay, deep and deeper, the dark valleys of the lower mountain regions, among which, scarcely discernible, were scattered numerous Indian villages. Far beyond a more level country stretched out, till it was lost in the distant line of the horizon. For several hours we descended, till we began to experience a very great change of temperature. We rested that night at a village inhabited entirely by Indians. It was situated among such inaccessible rocks that they had no fear of being surprised by the Spaniards. To my great grief, Manco told me that he must quit me by dawn on the morrow. I of course could not be so selfish as to wish to detain him.“I have been, fortunately, able to find a trustworthy guide for you,” he said. “He is a lad a year or so younger than you are, but very quick and intelligent. He is of a white complexion, though he has an Indian heart, for he has been among us from his childhood. When an infant he was discovered by some of our people in a wood near a Spanish village, and was brought hither by them. Their idea is, that either he had been deserted by his mother, or that his parents had been murdered by robbers, who, for some reason or other, saved his life. He is called Pedro. He speaks Spanish well; and should you fall among the Spaniards, he will be supposed to belong to their people. Should you discover your parents, of which I have no hopes, give him his liberty, and he will return to us; and if you abandon the attempt, he will lead you back to us. But I will bring him to you, and he will speak for himself.”On this Manco left the hut where we were lodging, and soon returned, accompanied by a youth, whose clear complexion and full black eyes showed that he was descended from the race who had conquered Peru.“Are you willing to accompany me, Pedro?” I asked in Spanish. “You will probably have many dangers to encounter.”He looked at me attentively for some time, as if examining my countenance to judge if he could trust me, before he answered.“Yes,” he at length said. “I will aid you gladly in the work you are about. I care not for dangers. God will protect me, as He has before done.”I was much struck with his words and manner, and gladly accepted his services.“But I have no means of rewarding you, Pedro,” I remarked. “Some day I may have, but the time is probably far distant.”“A good action is its own reward,” he answered, in an unaffected tone. “I require no reward. My chief and benefactor wishes me to go; and I desire to obey him.”Pedro was an unusual character. He possessed all the genius and fire of his Spanish fathers, with the simple education of an Indian uncontaminated by mixing with the world. The next morning he appeared habited in the dress of a Spanish farmer’s son, which was the character he was to assume should he be interrogated. He rode a mule similar to mine. He and I set forward together towards the west at the same time that Manco started to return to the Indian camp. I found that Manco had supplied him amply with money to pay our expenses, when we should reach the territory inhabited by Spaniards; but he told me that we should require none while we wandered among the Indian villages.“I thought that all the Indians were poor, and that even a chief like Manco would have little or no money,” I remarked.He smiled as he answered, “When men are slaves, if they are wise they conceal their wealth, lest their masters should take it from them. These mountains are full of rich mines of gold and silver, with which none but the Indians are acquainted. Many such exist, known only to particular families, to whom the knowledge has been handed down from father to son. Perhaps Manco has such a mine; but he is too wise to speak of it.”I did not think it right to inquire further about the source of Manco’s wealth; but I was satisfied that he could spare what he had provided for me. My young guide, however, was inclined to be communicative, and he beguiled the way by a number of interesting anecdotes.“O yes,” he continued; “the Indians are wise to conceal their riches; for if the Spaniards discovered them, they would no longer be theirs. Not far from this, there lives a good padre, the curate of the parish. He is very much liked by all the Indians, though he has his faults like other men. He is very kind-hearted and generous, and is ready to administer to the sick in body as well as in mind; but he is sadly addicted to gambling. He will play all day and night with anybody who will play with him, till he has lost his last real, and has often, I know, to go supperless to bed. When the Indians know by his looks and his staying at home that he is in poverty, they will send him fowls and eggs, and bread and provisions of all sorts. One day he had just received his yearly stipend, when the evil spirit came upon him, and he went away to the nearest town and lost it all. He came home very miserable, and could scarcely attend to his duties. Fortunately for him, an Indian, whose sick child he had attended, had compassion on his grief, and told him to be comforted. The next day, as soon as it was dark, the Indian came to his house, bringing a bag full of rich silver ore. The padre was very grateful; but instead of spending it wisely to supply his wants, he took it into the town, and it went the way of his stipend—into the pockets of his gambling companions. Again he returned home as full of grief as before. The Indian soon heard of what had happened, for he loved the padre very much; so he brought him another bag of silver. The padre’s propensity was incurable, and he lost that as he had done the first. The Indian’s generosity was not yet worn out, and he brought him a third bag full of ore. When the padre saw it, he could scarcely believe his own senses.“‘I fear that I am robbing you, my kind friend,’ he said. ‘I shall bring you into the poverty to which I have foolishly reduced myself.’“‘O no, Señor Padre; there is plenty more where this comes from,’ returned the Indian. ‘What I have given you is but like a drop of water in the ocean to the abundance of rich ore which there lies concealed.’“‘If that be the case, my kind friend, why not show it to me?’ exclaimed the padre. ‘I shall soon become a rich man, and will no longer think of gambling.’“After much persuasion, the Indian agreed to lead the padre to the mine, on condition that he would consent to be blindfolded both going and returning. The next night they accordingly set out, the Indian leading the padre by the hand. After walking for some hours, the bandage was taken from the padre’s eyes, and he found himself in a spot he had never before visited. The Indian set to work, and clearing away a quantity of earth and bushes, exposed to the delighted eyes of the padre a cave full of glittering masses of pure silver.“‘There, Señor Padre, is the mine I spoke of. Take as much as you can carry, and we will return speedily home,’ said the Indian.“The padre filled a number of bags he had brought with him under his cloak, till he could scarcely stagger onwards with the weight. While also he was collecting the treasure, avarice seized his soul, and he forgot the dictates of honour. He was then again blindfolded; and he set forward on his return in the same manner as he had come. But though he had got as much silver as would have supplied him with food and clothing for many years, he wanted more. He contrived, therefore, as he thought unperceived, to break the string of his rosary, and as he returned he dropped one bead, then another, hoping thus to trace his way by means of them back to the mine. At last he reached home, congratulating himself on his cleverness. Of what use, he thought, is all that silver to the Indians? They are not the better for it, but I shall know how to spend it. He was eager to set out the next morning, when just as he was leaving his house, the Indian stepped in at his door.“‘Ah, Señor Padre, I am come to see how you are after your long walk,’ said the Indian, smiling.“‘Very well, my son—very well, thank the saints,’ answered the padre. ‘I am just going out to take another.’“‘I hope it may be a pleasant one, Señor Padre,’ observed the Indian. ‘But I forgot—I came to return you your rosary, which you dropped last night.’“And to the dismay of the padre, the Indian gave him all the beads which he had carefully collected. The padre had nothing to say for himself; but the Indian did not utter any other rebuke, though he never again offered to bring him any more silver ore.”“I think the Indian behaved very well; but I can find no excuse for the padre,” I remarked.With similar stories, which he told with far more spirit than I have at this distance of time been able to give to them, Pedro endeavoured to divert my mind from dwelling on the thoughts which he saw oppressed it. He certainly succeeded better than I could have expected.Our road led us over a lofty height, at the summit of which we halted to rest ourselves and our mules. As we were sitting on the ground, and employed in eating our dinner, we observed a large condor high above us in the air. He approached us with outstretched wings, and at first I thought that he had been attracted by the provisions we carried, and that he was about to attack us. I cocked a gun Manco had given me, and prepared to shoot him should he come near us; but he passed beyond us, and presently he pounced down on the ground at some distance off. Instead, however, of his rising again with his prey in his talons as we expected, we saw him violently flapping his wings; and, to our great surprise, directly afterwards he was surrounded by a number of Indians, who began to strike him about the head with sticks to keep him quiet. Our curiosity induced us to run as fast as we could towards the spot, when we found that the condor had been caught in a trap laid on purpose for him. A hole had been dug in the ground, over which had been spread a fresh cowhide, with parts of the flesh still adhering to it. Underneath this an Indian had concealed himself with a rope in his hand. The condor, attracted by the smell of the flesh, had darted down on the hide, when the Indian below had firmly bound his claws together, and held on with all his might, the cowhide protecting him from the attacks of the bird’s beak. The other Indians had been concealed near the spot to help their companion. They quickly secured the monster bird, and prepared to carry him off in triumph to their village. At first when we appeared, they looked suspiciously at us; but after Pedro had spoken to them, their looks brightened up, and they invited us to accompany them to their dwellings, which were on the other side of the height.We gladly accepted their invitations, for they lived near the road we wished to pursue. I have so often spoken of the wretchedness of Indian huts, and of the coarseness of the food, that I need not describe them. They were no exceptions to the general rule. The scene before them was wild and dreary. At some distance off appeared a mass of long rushes, beyond which extended a sheet of water, the opposite shore of which was scarcely visible. Numerous flocks of waterfowl were hovering over the marshy banks of this lake, which I found was of very considerable extent, though inferior to that of Titicaca, the largest in South America.Pedro and I were sitting round a fire in the hut with our Indian hosts, before retiring to rest, when a loud moaning noise was heard in the distance. The Indians regarded each other with terrified looks.“What can cause that noise?” I inquired of Pedro. He shook his head, and turned to one of the Indians.“It forebodes evil to the herdsmen,” answered the man. “In yonder lake, which is so profound that no plummet has ever reached the bottom, there dwell huge monsters, neither beasts nor fish. No man has ever seen one near; but at night, when the moon is shining, they have been descried at a distance, prowling about in search of prey. When that noise is heard, which has just sounded in our ears, it is a sign that they have attacked some of the cattle feeding in the surrounding pastures; and to-morrow morning there is no doubt several will be found missing.”“But cannot the monsters be caught or killed?” I asked. “Surely it is foolish in the herdsmen to allow the cattle to be killed with impunity.”“Who would venture to do it?” exclaimed the Indian with a look of horror. “Besides, I told you, Señor, that no one has seen them near enough to observe their form; and sure I am that neither stones cast from slings, nor arrows shot from bows, nor bullets from guns, would pierce their hides.”“I should like to encounter one of these monsters,” I replied. “A ball from a good rifle would soon enable me to judge what they are like.”“May Heaven protect you from such an adventure!” answered the Indian.“If I ever return here, we will see.”I said this because I very much doubted the existence of the monsters he spoke of, and suspected that the moanings we heard arose most probably from some of the cattle which had sunk into the marshes near the lake, and were unable to extricate themselves. In every part of the world where I have since been, I have heard similar legends, and have in most instances been able to discover a very probable explanation of the mystery.The rays of the sun were shining on the waters of the lake as we passed one end of it the next morning, and it now wore a far more cheerful aspect than it had done on the previous evening. The two next days of our journey were one continual descent, and we were now approaching the ruined village, near which the body of the faithful Ithulpo was said to have been discovered, and in which I supposed my parents had taken refuge.I could no longer attend to any of Pedro’s remarks, but rode on sadly and moodily, dreading to find the truth of the dreadful report I had heard, confirmed, yet not daring to believe in its possibility. It was now necessary to proceed with great caution, for we were in a part of the country which had been inhabited chiefly by Spaniards; but we found that they had all fled or been destroyed, and the blackened ruins of farm-houses and hamlets met our sight every league we proceeded. Here and there we encountered an Indian, of whom Pedro made inquiries; but from no one could we obtain information to guide us.
The morning I was to set out arrived at last, and I bid farewell to Nita and her little infant, which I kissed over and over again for its mother’s sake; for my heart was full of gratitude for her kindness and compassion. Manco had procured a mule for me—a small but strong animal, with great sagacity. It was very sure-footed, and could climb up the most rugged rocks, and slip down mountain precipices like a goat. It was of the greatest value to me; for, weak as I was, I could not possibly have walked a mile of my journey. We had to descend some way, and then to travel along the side of the mountain range, in order to gain the road which led across the Cordilleras. I speak of the path as a road; but in many spots it was so narrow and difficult that I thought it would be impossible for any mule to get along. Here and there large blocks of stone had been placed, with the intention of facilitating the ascent. My mule sprung up them with such violent jerks that I was at first almost thrown over his head; but when we had to descend, he picked his way with great caution. Manco went before me with a long pole in his hand, ready to assist me if I required it.
After proceeding some way, I observed a large valley spread out at our feet. It was full of people and numerous tents and huts. Manco pointed to it with an expression of pride in his countenance.
“There,” said he, “you see the headquarters of the army which is to liberate our country from the power of the conqueror. The Inca Tupac Amaru himself, and his two young and noble sons, are there. In a few days the whole army will be assembled, when we march upon Cuzco, once more to reinstate our sovereign in the capital of his ancestors.”
Manco’s dark eyes flashed proudly as he spoke; for after the recent success of the Indian arms he had no doubt of victory. I thought differently. Hitherto the Indians had fought among mountains, where discipline was of little avail, and their bows and slings could send their missiles with effect; or they had attacked unfortified and unprepared villages; but in the neighbourhood of Cuzco they would be in an open valley, where the cavalry and artillery of the Spaniards could be brought into play, and I trembled for the consequences. I was unwilling to damp Manco’s ardour; but I endeavoured to point out the dangers I foresaw, and urged him to persuade the chiefs not to be over-confident.
We kept along the ridge of the height forming the side of the valley without descending, and I was thus able to obtain a full view of the Indian army. I was surprised not only at the vast number of people collected, but at the apparent order which prevailed, and at the great state which the Inca and his chief officers maintained. In the centre of the camp, amid a number of banners fluttering in the breeze, was erected a large canopy of gay-coloured cloth, beneath which was a throne, richly ornamented with gold and silver. A flight of steps led to it, along which were ranged a body of guards armed with battle-axes and spears. The Inca sat on his throne, dressed in the ancient costume of his ancestors, which I have before described; and officers of various ranks kept continually coming up to receive orders. As they approached, they bowed reverentially before him, and knelt at his feet while he addressed them. I could scarcely believe that what I saw was a reality, and that I was not dreaming of the accounts I had read of the early history of the country. It did not then occur to me that much valuable time was thus lost to the Indian cause in idle ceremony; and that Tupac Amaru would have had a better chance of success had he at once swept the country from north to south with his forces, before the Spaniards had recovered from their terror and dismay at their first defeat.
After stopping for a few minutes to gaze at the novel and interesting scene, we turned up a path through a ravine, and were quickly again in the solitude of the mountains. We travelled upwards for three days, sleeping at nights at the huts of Indians, where we received a warm welcome from their wives, but the men were in all cases absent. We were now crossing the Puna heights, as the table-lands on the upper part of the Cordilleras are called. We were some fourteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. On either side arose the lofty summits of the Cordilleras, covered with the ice of centuries. Before us stretched out to a great extent the level heights, covered with the dull yellow Puna grass, blending its tint with the greenish hue of the glaciers. It was truly a wild and desolate scene. Herds of vicuñas approached to gaze with wonder at us, and then turning affrighted, fled away with the swiftness of the wind. The Puna stag, with stately step, advanced from his lair in the recesses of the mountains, and gazed on us with his large wondering eyes. Farther off were groups of huancas, looking cautiously at us as we passed, while the rock-rabbits disported nimbly around us. I begged Manco not to shoot them, for we did not require food, and I never liked killing an animal for sport.
The mountain air and exercise had completely restored my strength, when on a sudden an indescribable oppression overcame me. My heart throbbed audibly, and my breathing became short and interrupted, while a weight as if of lead lay on my chest. My lips swelled and burst, blood flowed from my eyelids, and I began to lose my senses. I should have fallen from my mule had not Manco lifted me off. A grey mist floated before my eyes, and I could neither see, hear, nor feel distinctly. Manco sat down, and took my head in his lap; when after a time I began to recover, and I saw that he was anxiously looking at a dense mass of clouds gathering above us.
“Up, up, my friend, and mount if you value your life!” he said. “You are better now. A storm is about to burst, and we must face it boldly.”
Scarcely had he spoken, when, loud peals of thunder were heard, and lightning darted from the skies. Down, too, came the snow in flakes, so heavy that it was impossible to see many yards before us.
“We must push on,” observed Manco. “We have lost much time already, and night will overtake us before we can reach the nearest village.” The snow, however, fell faster, and completely concealed all signs of the path. “When the snow-storm has ceased, I shall easily find the way by the flight of the birds we are certain to see,” he continued. “So, fear not. You are suffering from the keen air of the mountains, and you will quickly recover when we begin to descend to lower ground.”
Even his sagacity was at fault, and we soon found that we had wandered from the right path. As I did not grow worse, I kept up my spirits. Two or three hours passed away, and the snow ceased. It had scarcely done so, when the clouds opened, and the bright glance of the burning sun burst forth dazzlingly on the white expanse of snow before me. In a moment I felt my eyes stricken with almost total blindness. A cry of horror escaped me. I fancied that I should not recover. Manco tried to console me, assuring me that I was merely suffering from thesurumpe, a common complaint in those regions.
“I ought to have guarded you against it,” he said. “Strangers unaccustomed to the sight of the glittering snow constantly suffer from it; but it will soon pass away.”
I, however, thought differently, though I was unwilling to complain to him. We went on as fast as we could; but the sun set when we were still a long way from the edge of the plain. We had with difficulty avoided several swamps, in which he had told me animals and men were sometimes lost. They are the chief dangers of that region. Fortunately, he recognised a range of lofty rocks near us.
“There is a cavern within them not far off, where we must rest for the night,” he said. “We might have a worse lodging, for we shall there, at all events, be sheltered from the snow and wind.”
It was now perfectly dark; but after searching for some time, we succeeded in discovering the cavern. While he tethered my male outside, I staggered in, and, overcome with fatigue and the pain I was suffering, sunk upon the ground, a stone which lay near me serving for a pillow. I begged him to let me remain where I was, while he refreshed himself with some of the provisions we had brought with us. We had no means of striking a light: and as he could afford me no assistance beyond throwing a poncho over me, he did not interfere; but soon afterwards, stretching himself out near me, he fell asleep. Having been on foot all day, he required rest as much as I did. As soon as I fell into a slumber, the smarting pain of thesurumpeawoke me, and I was obliged to give up all hope of sleep. How long the night seemed! My thoughts all the time were active, and I need scarcely say that they were fixed on my expedition, and means of accomplishing my object.
It was towards the morning, when a dreadful turn was given to them. Happening to stretch out my hand, it came in contact with a cold clammy substance. I drew it back, and an indescribable horror crept over me; but influenced by an impulse I could not control, I again put it out towards the object. It rested on the face of a human being. I was certain that I could not be mistaken. I felt the mouth, and nose, and hair; but the features were rigid and immoveable. It was that of a corpse. Constitutionally fearless, under other circumstances I should have got up and removed myself from the disagreeable neighbourhood, supposing that some unfortunate traveller had like us taken shelter there, and died from cold or hunger; but weak with mental and bodily suffering, I had now no power over myself, and lay trembling with horror, not even venturing to call out to Manco to break the dreadful spell which was upon me. It is impossible to describe my feelings, or the ideas which took possession of my mind. Whose corpse could it be? Might there not be others in the cave? I thought, if I could be said to be thinking. At last, I believe I swooned away, for most certainly I did not sleep. An exclamation from Manco aroused me. Daylight was streaming into the cavern, and he was sitting up and gazing towards me. In another instant he was by my side, and, with careful forethought, was endeavouring to keep my attention fixed on himself, so as to prevent me from seeing the dreadful objects in the inner part of the cavern.
“Manco,” I said, “I have had a horrid dream. I fancied that the cavern was full of corpses.” As I spoke I really thought I had been dreaming.
Without answering me, he lifted me up, and led me towards the open air. An impulse I could not restrain made me turn my head; and on the ground, close to where I had rested, I saw the corpse of a man. Trembling in every limb, I stopped to look at it. It was that of a white man. Several ghastly wounds were seen on the broad chest, and another on the head. The dress and the full black beard and moustache showed me that he was a Spaniard. There were no other corpses to be seen; and as I looked at the object in the broad daylight, with the fresh breeze blowing in my face, the undefined horror I had before felt completely vanished. I felt ashamed of my previous fears, and releasing myself from his support, assured him that I had recovered my strength. The effort itself assisted to restore my nerves to their usual tension; and I was able to turn back and examine the corpse.
“Who can have murdered the man and placed him here?” I asked.
Manco shook his head. “It is a bad thing—a very bad thing!” he replied, as he examined the wounds of the man. “I fear my countrymen have done it. He must have been taken prisoner, for I find the marks of cords round his wrists, and he attempted to escape, and thus was killed; but ask no further questions. Come, it is time to proceed.”
The little mule was safe outside, so I mounted and hastened from the spot.
As I rode on, my spirits returned with the air and exercise, and my mind no longer dwelt on the events of the previous night; and the effects of thesurumpealso began to wear off. Several rock-rabbits crossed our path, two of which Manco shot; and when we came to a height which sheltered us from the wind, we halted for breakfast. Having tethered the mule, we set to work to collect the dry grass and the stems of creepers growing from the clefts of the rocks for fuel. Manco had with him the means of striking a light, and a fire was soon kindled, over which we cooked the rabbits and boiled some cocoa in a tin pannikin, by the aid of which, with some Indian corn bread, we made a very fair meal. In an hour more we reached the edge of theAlto, or high plain, over which we had been travelling. Before us lay, deep and deeper, the dark valleys of the lower mountain regions, among which, scarcely discernible, were scattered numerous Indian villages. Far beyond a more level country stretched out, till it was lost in the distant line of the horizon. For several hours we descended, till we began to experience a very great change of temperature. We rested that night at a village inhabited entirely by Indians. It was situated among such inaccessible rocks that they had no fear of being surprised by the Spaniards. To my great grief, Manco told me that he must quit me by dawn on the morrow. I of course could not be so selfish as to wish to detain him.
“I have been, fortunately, able to find a trustworthy guide for you,” he said. “He is a lad a year or so younger than you are, but very quick and intelligent. He is of a white complexion, though he has an Indian heart, for he has been among us from his childhood. When an infant he was discovered by some of our people in a wood near a Spanish village, and was brought hither by them. Their idea is, that either he had been deserted by his mother, or that his parents had been murdered by robbers, who, for some reason or other, saved his life. He is called Pedro. He speaks Spanish well; and should you fall among the Spaniards, he will be supposed to belong to their people. Should you discover your parents, of which I have no hopes, give him his liberty, and he will return to us; and if you abandon the attempt, he will lead you back to us. But I will bring him to you, and he will speak for himself.”
On this Manco left the hut where we were lodging, and soon returned, accompanied by a youth, whose clear complexion and full black eyes showed that he was descended from the race who had conquered Peru.
“Are you willing to accompany me, Pedro?” I asked in Spanish. “You will probably have many dangers to encounter.”
He looked at me attentively for some time, as if examining my countenance to judge if he could trust me, before he answered.
“Yes,” he at length said. “I will aid you gladly in the work you are about. I care not for dangers. God will protect me, as He has before done.”
I was much struck with his words and manner, and gladly accepted his services.
“But I have no means of rewarding you, Pedro,” I remarked. “Some day I may have, but the time is probably far distant.”
“A good action is its own reward,” he answered, in an unaffected tone. “I require no reward. My chief and benefactor wishes me to go; and I desire to obey him.”
Pedro was an unusual character. He possessed all the genius and fire of his Spanish fathers, with the simple education of an Indian uncontaminated by mixing with the world. The next morning he appeared habited in the dress of a Spanish farmer’s son, which was the character he was to assume should he be interrogated. He rode a mule similar to mine. He and I set forward together towards the west at the same time that Manco started to return to the Indian camp. I found that Manco had supplied him amply with money to pay our expenses, when we should reach the territory inhabited by Spaniards; but he told me that we should require none while we wandered among the Indian villages.
“I thought that all the Indians were poor, and that even a chief like Manco would have little or no money,” I remarked.
He smiled as he answered, “When men are slaves, if they are wise they conceal their wealth, lest their masters should take it from them. These mountains are full of rich mines of gold and silver, with which none but the Indians are acquainted. Many such exist, known only to particular families, to whom the knowledge has been handed down from father to son. Perhaps Manco has such a mine; but he is too wise to speak of it.”
I did not think it right to inquire further about the source of Manco’s wealth; but I was satisfied that he could spare what he had provided for me. My young guide, however, was inclined to be communicative, and he beguiled the way by a number of interesting anecdotes.
“O yes,” he continued; “the Indians are wise to conceal their riches; for if the Spaniards discovered them, they would no longer be theirs. Not far from this, there lives a good padre, the curate of the parish. He is very much liked by all the Indians, though he has his faults like other men. He is very kind-hearted and generous, and is ready to administer to the sick in body as well as in mind; but he is sadly addicted to gambling. He will play all day and night with anybody who will play with him, till he has lost his last real, and has often, I know, to go supperless to bed. When the Indians know by his looks and his staying at home that he is in poverty, they will send him fowls and eggs, and bread and provisions of all sorts. One day he had just received his yearly stipend, when the evil spirit came upon him, and he went away to the nearest town and lost it all. He came home very miserable, and could scarcely attend to his duties. Fortunately for him, an Indian, whose sick child he had attended, had compassion on his grief, and told him to be comforted. The next day, as soon as it was dark, the Indian came to his house, bringing a bag full of rich silver ore. The padre was very grateful; but instead of spending it wisely to supply his wants, he took it into the town, and it went the way of his stipend—into the pockets of his gambling companions. Again he returned home as full of grief as before. The Indian soon heard of what had happened, for he loved the padre very much; so he brought him another bag of silver. The padre’s propensity was incurable, and he lost that as he had done the first. The Indian’s generosity was not yet worn out, and he brought him a third bag full of ore. When the padre saw it, he could scarcely believe his own senses.
“‘I fear that I am robbing you, my kind friend,’ he said. ‘I shall bring you into the poverty to which I have foolishly reduced myself.’
“‘O no, Señor Padre; there is plenty more where this comes from,’ returned the Indian. ‘What I have given you is but like a drop of water in the ocean to the abundance of rich ore which there lies concealed.’
“‘If that be the case, my kind friend, why not show it to me?’ exclaimed the padre. ‘I shall soon become a rich man, and will no longer think of gambling.’
“After much persuasion, the Indian agreed to lead the padre to the mine, on condition that he would consent to be blindfolded both going and returning. The next night they accordingly set out, the Indian leading the padre by the hand. After walking for some hours, the bandage was taken from the padre’s eyes, and he found himself in a spot he had never before visited. The Indian set to work, and clearing away a quantity of earth and bushes, exposed to the delighted eyes of the padre a cave full of glittering masses of pure silver.
“‘There, Señor Padre, is the mine I spoke of. Take as much as you can carry, and we will return speedily home,’ said the Indian.
“The padre filled a number of bags he had brought with him under his cloak, till he could scarcely stagger onwards with the weight. While also he was collecting the treasure, avarice seized his soul, and he forgot the dictates of honour. He was then again blindfolded; and he set forward on his return in the same manner as he had come. But though he had got as much silver as would have supplied him with food and clothing for many years, he wanted more. He contrived, therefore, as he thought unperceived, to break the string of his rosary, and as he returned he dropped one bead, then another, hoping thus to trace his way by means of them back to the mine. At last he reached home, congratulating himself on his cleverness. Of what use, he thought, is all that silver to the Indians? They are not the better for it, but I shall know how to spend it. He was eager to set out the next morning, when just as he was leaving his house, the Indian stepped in at his door.
“‘Ah, Señor Padre, I am come to see how you are after your long walk,’ said the Indian, smiling.
“‘Very well, my son—very well, thank the saints,’ answered the padre. ‘I am just going out to take another.’
“‘I hope it may be a pleasant one, Señor Padre,’ observed the Indian. ‘But I forgot—I came to return you your rosary, which you dropped last night.’
“And to the dismay of the padre, the Indian gave him all the beads which he had carefully collected. The padre had nothing to say for himself; but the Indian did not utter any other rebuke, though he never again offered to bring him any more silver ore.”
“I think the Indian behaved very well; but I can find no excuse for the padre,” I remarked.
With similar stories, which he told with far more spirit than I have at this distance of time been able to give to them, Pedro endeavoured to divert my mind from dwelling on the thoughts which he saw oppressed it. He certainly succeeded better than I could have expected.
Our road led us over a lofty height, at the summit of which we halted to rest ourselves and our mules. As we were sitting on the ground, and employed in eating our dinner, we observed a large condor high above us in the air. He approached us with outstretched wings, and at first I thought that he had been attracted by the provisions we carried, and that he was about to attack us. I cocked a gun Manco had given me, and prepared to shoot him should he come near us; but he passed beyond us, and presently he pounced down on the ground at some distance off. Instead, however, of his rising again with his prey in his talons as we expected, we saw him violently flapping his wings; and, to our great surprise, directly afterwards he was surrounded by a number of Indians, who began to strike him about the head with sticks to keep him quiet. Our curiosity induced us to run as fast as we could towards the spot, when we found that the condor had been caught in a trap laid on purpose for him. A hole had been dug in the ground, over which had been spread a fresh cowhide, with parts of the flesh still adhering to it. Underneath this an Indian had concealed himself with a rope in his hand. The condor, attracted by the smell of the flesh, had darted down on the hide, when the Indian below had firmly bound his claws together, and held on with all his might, the cowhide protecting him from the attacks of the bird’s beak. The other Indians had been concealed near the spot to help their companion. They quickly secured the monster bird, and prepared to carry him off in triumph to their village. At first when we appeared, they looked suspiciously at us; but after Pedro had spoken to them, their looks brightened up, and they invited us to accompany them to their dwellings, which were on the other side of the height.
We gladly accepted their invitations, for they lived near the road we wished to pursue. I have so often spoken of the wretchedness of Indian huts, and of the coarseness of the food, that I need not describe them. They were no exceptions to the general rule. The scene before them was wild and dreary. At some distance off appeared a mass of long rushes, beyond which extended a sheet of water, the opposite shore of which was scarcely visible. Numerous flocks of waterfowl were hovering over the marshy banks of this lake, which I found was of very considerable extent, though inferior to that of Titicaca, the largest in South America.
Pedro and I were sitting round a fire in the hut with our Indian hosts, before retiring to rest, when a loud moaning noise was heard in the distance. The Indians regarded each other with terrified looks.
“What can cause that noise?” I inquired of Pedro. He shook his head, and turned to one of the Indians.
“It forebodes evil to the herdsmen,” answered the man. “In yonder lake, which is so profound that no plummet has ever reached the bottom, there dwell huge monsters, neither beasts nor fish. No man has ever seen one near; but at night, when the moon is shining, they have been descried at a distance, prowling about in search of prey. When that noise is heard, which has just sounded in our ears, it is a sign that they have attacked some of the cattle feeding in the surrounding pastures; and to-morrow morning there is no doubt several will be found missing.”
“But cannot the monsters be caught or killed?” I asked. “Surely it is foolish in the herdsmen to allow the cattle to be killed with impunity.”
“Who would venture to do it?” exclaimed the Indian with a look of horror. “Besides, I told you, Señor, that no one has seen them near enough to observe their form; and sure I am that neither stones cast from slings, nor arrows shot from bows, nor bullets from guns, would pierce their hides.”
“I should like to encounter one of these monsters,” I replied. “A ball from a good rifle would soon enable me to judge what they are like.”
“May Heaven protect you from such an adventure!” answered the Indian.
“If I ever return here, we will see.”
I said this because I very much doubted the existence of the monsters he spoke of, and suspected that the moanings we heard arose most probably from some of the cattle which had sunk into the marshes near the lake, and were unable to extricate themselves. In every part of the world where I have since been, I have heard similar legends, and have in most instances been able to discover a very probable explanation of the mystery.
The rays of the sun were shining on the waters of the lake as we passed one end of it the next morning, and it now wore a far more cheerful aspect than it had done on the previous evening. The two next days of our journey were one continual descent, and we were now approaching the ruined village, near which the body of the faithful Ithulpo was said to have been discovered, and in which I supposed my parents had taken refuge.
I could no longer attend to any of Pedro’s remarks, but rode on sadly and moodily, dreading to find the truth of the dreadful report I had heard, confirmed, yet not daring to believe in its possibility. It was now necessary to proceed with great caution, for we were in a part of the country which had been inhabited chiefly by Spaniards; but we found that they had all fled or been destroyed, and the blackened ruins of farm-houses and hamlets met our sight every league we proceeded. Here and there we encountered an Indian, of whom Pedro made inquiries; but from no one could we obtain information to guide us.