'If he gets over the first three or four days safely he'll be all right,' Dr. Robson told me; and before the British Minister went away, I implored him to try and get leave for me to stay in Santa Cruz till then. He was awfully decent, drove straight away to the Club, found Captain Roger Hill, got leave not only for me but for Cousin Bob, and made us stay at his house too—which was jolly kind of him. As it was not far from General Zorilla's house we could very often run in to see Gerald for a few minutes at a time.They sent our clothes up from the ship, and as Gerald went on very well indeed, we had quite a good time; but on the second day after he'd been shot, I had to get into my brother's things and lead his little brown chaps down to Los Angelos. They wouldn't go without him, were getting troublesome again, and the city was in deadly fear lest they should still take it into their heads to sack the place. The little chaps still took me for Gerald whilst I was on horseback, with his polo helmet jammed down over my head, but I don't imagine that most of the officers did so. They pretended that I was Gerald in order to keep their men under control, and were much too anxious to get back to their homes and plantations in the provinces to give the show away.The 'Gnome' and José both came with me to help the deception, and I heard the 'Gnome' give a great sigh of relief when, eventually, the last of Gerald's men were put aboard those transports inside the breakwater. As each transport steamed out of the harbour, the little Santa Cruz ships cheered wildly and the men cheered back, 'Viva los Horizontals!' 'Viva de Costa!' 'Viva Don Geraldio!' and as the last one steamed slowly round the lighthouse and passed theHercules, I could still hear cries of 'Viva Don Geraldio!' 'Viva los Inglesas!'I stood on the wharf for some time, watching the transports steaming along the coast, some northwards, the others to the south, and I really felt very sorry to see the last of the little chaps with whom I had gone through so many exciting days. I could see that the 'Gnome,' however relieved he was for them to go away, felt as I did, and they seemed to have had so little reward for all they'd done in the last three months that you couldn't help feeling that, after all their pluck and hardships, they hadn't gained much for themselves.We rode slowly up the mountain to Santa Cruz, and at that sharp turning, where we had seen the yellow and green flag last flying, we stopped and for a minute watched the transports, little smoky dots on the glistening sea, a thousand feet below us, as they carried the brave little chaps to their homes.On the fifth morning after the operation, Bob and I had to wish Gerald good-bye, and go back to theHercules. He was going on grandly.'You'll have a pretty big job as Commander-in-Chief when you get well,' I said jokingly, but he shook his head. 'No, Billums! I shall chuck it and try and make some money on the estate again. I'm rather bored with revolutions and fighting just at present, and want to get away from here. I'll get that little chap you call the "Gnome" to come with me, and I'll see if I can't pay off some of my debts.'No one had told Gerald about the warrant, so it wasn't funk which made him think of leaving Santa Cruz, and you can guess how pleased I was to hear him say this, and how jolly pleased the mater would be too.'We've had an exciting three months of it, old chap, haven't we? but I'm going to take a rest. We've done all this fighting and killing, marching and starving, and we've only turned out one bad President to put another, just as bad, in his place. The game's not worth the candle.'At the back of my mind I really thought the same, and I only hoped that he would still stick to his determination when he did get strong again. I had to leave him there, in Zorilla's house—with the two nuns and José to look after him—and Bob and I rode, for the last time, through that square.Dear old Zorilla had lent us horses, and he and the 'Gnome' came with us along the road past San Sebastian and beyond the spot where Bob, the 'Angel,' and I had knocked over the carriage with theHercules' midshipmen, right along till the road began to drop down towards Los Angelos.I shook the old man's hand—I felt that Gerald would be safe with him—and I gripped the 'Gnome's' hand too; it was all I could do, for we could not speak each other's languages, and we rode away. At the next turning we looked back and they were still there, watching us, the General on his big black horse and the 'Gnome' on a little white one—showing up against the sky. We waved our hats, they gravely waved theirs, and that was the last we saw of them. We both felt intensely miserable, and didn't say a word for quite half an hour, when Bob at last said, 'Do you know what those two remind me of?—the picture of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.'I smiled at him. No knight of old could have been a grander chap than was old Zorilla, and I thought of what the British Minister had told me just before we left him. 'The first time in his life that old Zorilla has ever been known to disobey an order was when he tore your brother's warrant into pieces.'Funnily enough, the one thing that always makes me feel so glad, when I now think of this three months, was that I rescued his black horse, and was the means of him getting it back again.CHAPTER XVIIITheHectorgoes HomeWritten by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N.I have not much more to tell you.TheHerculeswent off to Bermuda the morning after Bob and I had come back from Santa Cruz, and we waited on deck till the long lines of towering black mountains were lost to sight. I couldn't bear to leave Gerald up among them, although he was in Zorilla's house, and practically out of danger, as far as the wound was concerned, but I'd learnt enough about politics, and the way they were 'run' in the Republic, to feel sure that his greatest danger lay in the jealousy of the New President, and that he would never be safe in the country—not even if he did resign the Command of the forces.We ran through the 'Narrows' five days later and anchored in Grassy Bay, off the naval dockyard of Ireland Island, Bermuda. It was rather a shock to see the poor oldHector'stwo funnels and damaged foremast sticking up behind the dockyard wall, and I noticed that Bob and one or two of the others looked very white when they saw them.As soon as the repairs to her ward-room had been completed the officers moved out of the gun-room, and I and my mids. were sent aboard her again. It didn't make much difference to me, but a good many of the mids. did not like going back a little bit. The still half-dismantled ship had too many sad memories for them, and I am sorry to say that Cousin Bob began to mope again—everything reminded him too much of his poor little chum.Every morning, before breakfast, I made them all run round the dockyard to Moresby Plain, for a hockey practice, below the little Naval Club, and whilst we remained here we had two very pleasant games against theHercules'gun-room, but as we had none to fill, properly, the 'Angel's' place at 'centre-half,' or Barton's at 'outside-right,' were beaten both times.'What a difference, Ginger, old chap,' I said, as we watched them scrambling into the tea-house together, after the match, just as chummy as they could be.'Difference!' Perkins, who was standing near us, said, smiling, 'I should think it was a difference. They won't leave a thimbleful of tea or a bun in the place, and I shall have to go without any, I suppose.''It's taken a good deal to make 'em friends, hasn't it?' Ginger said sadly.A fortnight later Gerald sent me a telegram, as he had promised, to say that he was allowed out of bed, and I knew that he had sent the same message home to the mater, and felt awfully glad.Nothing more happened at Bermuda worth telling about; we had to work very hard indeed; in six weeks' time the ship was seaworthy enough to steam home, and one beautiful Sunday morning in May, theHerculesand ourselves anchored behind Plymouth breakwater.As you can imagine, the poor oldHectorwas a great object of curiosity, and paddle-boats were bringing people off from shore, and steaming round her, all day long.Next morning two dockyard tugs made fast alongside us, we slipped our moorings, and as their paddles began churning the water and we commenced to move up harbour, Captain Roger Hill unbent, for the first time in his life, and 'cheered ship.''Three cheers for theHector,' we heard his Commander shout, and the whole crew swarmed on the upperworks and sent us three great cheers.'Tut, tut, lad!' our Skipper stuttered, dropping his eyeglass, '"Old Spats" has forgotten himself. Look at him! He's actually waving his cap.'He nodded to the Commander, whose great roaring voice bellowed out, 'Three cheers for Captain Roger Hill and theHercules,' and we all shouted.We were taken up harbour and put into dry dock immediately, and we heard that we should probably stay there for several months.As soon as it could be arranged, we got up a subscription for a tablet to the memory of all our people who'd been killed in that fight withLa Buena Presidente, and got permission to place it in Portsmouth Dockyard Chapel, where you can see it now.There were, unfortunately, a great number of names to go on it—Montague, Clegg, Bigge, Pearson, the 'Forlorn Hope' and his chum the 'Shadow' (whose name was put there because he died as a result of the fight), Barton, the 'Angel,' Marchant (the Inkslinger), the cheery, good-tempered, little Captain's Clerk, and below these the names of fifty-four men—several had died of their wounds at Princes' Town Colonial Hospital.Cousin Bob still moped and slept badly, often waking the whole of the gun-room flat by shrieking in his sleep, so that I worried very much about him. I told the Captain.'Well, boy! What d'you want me to do? The Fleet Surgeon has been speaking about him too.''I think it would be best to send him home for as long as you can, sir,' I said.'Right oh, lad! Tell him to leave his address and I'll wire for him when I want him. Have a bit of lunch?'I stayed to lunch with him, and we talked about Gerald.'Grand chap! grand chap! a little too haughty for me. Grand chap though—never thanked me for taking him that hydraulic machinery.''But he never thought you knew about it, sir,' I said, surprised.He polished his eyeglass very carefully, screwed it into his eye, and then very deliberately winked at me.I shipped Cousin Bob off home that very day and was jolly glad to get him away from the ship, although, as a matter of fact, I need not have been in such a hurry, because all the mids. were sent to other ships a few days later. Still he managed to get a little longer leave than the others, and I had a very grateful letter from his sister Daisy.I had a long letter, too, from Gerald some time afterwards. He had gone back to the rubber plantation with José and the 'Gnome,' and said that he was jolly glad to get back there again, start rebuilding the house and planting more trees, but I feared that he was of much too restless a disposition to remain there for long.Old Zorilla had taken on his job as Commander-in-Chief, and Gerald said that things were going on swimmingly, though what actual difference the change of President had made, he was hanged if he could tell. Little Navarro was limping about Santa Cruz as cheerful as ever, and every one wanted to be remembered to me.Well, however long I live, I shall never forget them.*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKON FOREIGN SERVICE***
'If he gets over the first three or four days safely he'll be all right,' Dr. Robson told me; and before the British Minister went away, I implored him to try and get leave for me to stay in Santa Cruz till then. He was awfully decent, drove straight away to the Club, found Captain Roger Hill, got leave not only for me but for Cousin Bob, and made us stay at his house too—which was jolly kind of him. As it was not far from General Zorilla's house we could very often run in to see Gerald for a few minutes at a time.
They sent our clothes up from the ship, and as Gerald went on very well indeed, we had quite a good time; but on the second day after he'd been shot, I had to get into my brother's things and lead his little brown chaps down to Los Angelos. They wouldn't go without him, were getting troublesome again, and the city was in deadly fear lest they should still take it into their heads to sack the place. The little chaps still took me for Gerald whilst I was on horseback, with his polo helmet jammed down over my head, but I don't imagine that most of the officers did so. They pretended that I was Gerald in order to keep their men under control, and were much too anxious to get back to their homes and plantations in the provinces to give the show away.
The 'Gnome' and José both came with me to help the deception, and I heard the 'Gnome' give a great sigh of relief when, eventually, the last of Gerald's men were put aboard those transports inside the breakwater. As each transport steamed out of the harbour, the little Santa Cruz ships cheered wildly and the men cheered back, 'Viva los Horizontals!' 'Viva de Costa!' 'Viva Don Geraldio!' and as the last one steamed slowly round the lighthouse and passed theHercules, I could still hear cries of 'Viva Don Geraldio!' 'Viva los Inglesas!'
I stood on the wharf for some time, watching the transports steaming along the coast, some northwards, the others to the south, and I really felt very sorry to see the last of the little chaps with whom I had gone through so many exciting days. I could see that the 'Gnome,' however relieved he was for them to go away, felt as I did, and they seemed to have had so little reward for all they'd done in the last three months that you couldn't help feeling that, after all their pluck and hardships, they hadn't gained much for themselves.
We rode slowly up the mountain to Santa Cruz, and at that sharp turning, where we had seen the yellow and green flag last flying, we stopped and for a minute watched the transports, little smoky dots on the glistening sea, a thousand feet below us, as they carried the brave little chaps to their homes.
On the fifth morning after the operation, Bob and I had to wish Gerald good-bye, and go back to theHercules. He was going on grandly.
'You'll have a pretty big job as Commander-in-Chief when you get well,' I said jokingly, but he shook his head. 'No, Billums! I shall chuck it and try and make some money on the estate again. I'm rather bored with revolutions and fighting just at present, and want to get away from here. I'll get that little chap you call the "Gnome" to come with me, and I'll see if I can't pay off some of my debts.'
No one had told Gerald about the warrant, so it wasn't funk which made him think of leaving Santa Cruz, and you can guess how pleased I was to hear him say this, and how jolly pleased the mater would be too.
'We've had an exciting three months of it, old chap, haven't we? but I'm going to take a rest. We've done all this fighting and killing, marching and starving, and we've only turned out one bad President to put another, just as bad, in his place. The game's not worth the candle.'
At the back of my mind I really thought the same, and I only hoped that he would still stick to his determination when he did get strong again. I had to leave him there, in Zorilla's house—with the two nuns and José to look after him—and Bob and I rode, for the last time, through that square.
Dear old Zorilla had lent us horses, and he and the 'Gnome' came with us along the road past San Sebastian and beyond the spot where Bob, the 'Angel,' and I had knocked over the carriage with theHercules' midshipmen, right along till the road began to drop down towards Los Angelos.
I shook the old man's hand—I felt that Gerald would be safe with him—and I gripped the 'Gnome's' hand too; it was all I could do, for we could not speak each other's languages, and we rode away. At the next turning we looked back and they were still there, watching us, the General on his big black horse and the 'Gnome' on a little white one—showing up against the sky. We waved our hats, they gravely waved theirs, and that was the last we saw of them. We both felt intensely miserable, and didn't say a word for quite half an hour, when Bob at last said, 'Do you know what those two remind me of?—the picture of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.'
I smiled at him. No knight of old could have been a grander chap than was old Zorilla, and I thought of what the British Minister had told me just before we left him. 'The first time in his life that old Zorilla has ever been known to disobey an order was when he tore your brother's warrant into pieces.'
Funnily enough, the one thing that always makes me feel so glad, when I now think of this three months, was that I rescued his black horse, and was the means of him getting it back again.
CHAPTER XVIII
TheHectorgoes Home
Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N.
I have not much more to tell you.
TheHerculeswent off to Bermuda the morning after Bob and I had come back from Santa Cruz, and we waited on deck till the long lines of towering black mountains were lost to sight. I couldn't bear to leave Gerald up among them, although he was in Zorilla's house, and practically out of danger, as far as the wound was concerned, but I'd learnt enough about politics, and the way they were 'run' in the Republic, to feel sure that his greatest danger lay in the jealousy of the New President, and that he would never be safe in the country—not even if he did resign the Command of the forces.
We ran through the 'Narrows' five days later and anchored in Grassy Bay, off the naval dockyard of Ireland Island, Bermuda. It was rather a shock to see the poor oldHector'stwo funnels and damaged foremast sticking up behind the dockyard wall, and I noticed that Bob and one or two of the others looked very white when they saw them.
As soon as the repairs to her ward-room had been completed the officers moved out of the gun-room, and I and my mids. were sent aboard her again. It didn't make much difference to me, but a good many of the mids. did not like going back a little bit. The still half-dismantled ship had too many sad memories for them, and I am sorry to say that Cousin Bob began to mope again—everything reminded him too much of his poor little chum.
Every morning, before breakfast, I made them all run round the dockyard to Moresby Plain, for a hockey practice, below the little Naval Club, and whilst we remained here we had two very pleasant games against theHercules'gun-room, but as we had none to fill, properly, the 'Angel's' place at 'centre-half,' or Barton's at 'outside-right,' were beaten both times.
'What a difference, Ginger, old chap,' I said, as we watched them scrambling into the tea-house together, after the match, just as chummy as they could be.
'Difference!' Perkins, who was standing near us, said, smiling, 'I should think it was a difference. They won't leave a thimbleful of tea or a bun in the place, and I shall have to go without any, I suppose.'
'It's taken a good deal to make 'em friends, hasn't it?' Ginger said sadly.
A fortnight later Gerald sent me a telegram, as he had promised, to say that he was allowed out of bed, and I knew that he had sent the same message home to the mater, and felt awfully glad.
Nothing more happened at Bermuda worth telling about; we had to work very hard indeed; in six weeks' time the ship was seaworthy enough to steam home, and one beautiful Sunday morning in May, theHerculesand ourselves anchored behind Plymouth breakwater.
As you can imagine, the poor oldHectorwas a great object of curiosity, and paddle-boats were bringing people off from shore, and steaming round her, all day long.
Next morning two dockyard tugs made fast alongside us, we slipped our moorings, and as their paddles began churning the water and we commenced to move up harbour, Captain Roger Hill unbent, for the first time in his life, and 'cheered ship.'
'Three cheers for theHector,' we heard his Commander shout, and the whole crew swarmed on the upperworks and sent us three great cheers.
'Tut, tut, lad!' our Skipper stuttered, dropping his eyeglass, '"Old Spats" has forgotten himself. Look at him! He's actually waving his cap.'
He nodded to the Commander, whose great roaring voice bellowed out, 'Three cheers for Captain Roger Hill and theHercules,' and we all shouted.
We were taken up harbour and put into dry dock immediately, and we heard that we should probably stay there for several months.
As soon as it could be arranged, we got up a subscription for a tablet to the memory of all our people who'd been killed in that fight withLa Buena Presidente, and got permission to place it in Portsmouth Dockyard Chapel, where you can see it now.
There were, unfortunately, a great number of names to go on it—Montague, Clegg, Bigge, Pearson, the 'Forlorn Hope' and his chum the 'Shadow' (whose name was put there because he died as a result of the fight), Barton, the 'Angel,' Marchant (the Inkslinger), the cheery, good-tempered, little Captain's Clerk, and below these the names of fifty-four men—several had died of their wounds at Princes' Town Colonial Hospital.
Cousin Bob still moped and slept badly, often waking the whole of the gun-room flat by shrieking in his sleep, so that I worried very much about him. I told the Captain.
'Well, boy! What d'you want me to do? The Fleet Surgeon has been speaking about him too.'
'I think it would be best to send him home for as long as you can, sir,' I said.
'Right oh, lad! Tell him to leave his address and I'll wire for him when I want him. Have a bit of lunch?'
I stayed to lunch with him, and we talked about Gerald.
'Grand chap! grand chap! a little too haughty for me. Grand chap though—never thanked me for taking him that hydraulic machinery.'
'But he never thought you knew about it, sir,' I said, surprised.
He polished his eyeglass very carefully, screwed it into his eye, and then very deliberately winked at me.
I shipped Cousin Bob off home that very day and was jolly glad to get him away from the ship, although, as a matter of fact, I need not have been in such a hurry, because all the mids. were sent to other ships a few days later. Still he managed to get a little longer leave than the others, and I had a very grateful letter from his sister Daisy.
I had a long letter, too, from Gerald some time afterwards. He had gone back to the rubber plantation with José and the 'Gnome,' and said that he was jolly glad to get back there again, start rebuilding the house and planting more trees, but I feared that he was of much too restless a disposition to remain there for long.
Old Zorilla had taken on his job as Commander-in-Chief, and Gerald said that things were going on swimmingly, though what actual difference the change of President had made, he was hanged if he could tell. Little Navarro was limping about Santa Cruz as cheerful as ever, and every one wanted to be remembered to me.
Well, however long I live, I shall never forget them.
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOKON FOREIGN SERVICE***