CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIIIOf Powder and Bullets

Dayafter day of the long voyage passed without incident. Danbury and Wilson in the close relationship necessary aboard ship grew to be warm friends. And yet the latter still remained silent concerning that part of his quest relating to the hidden treasure. This was not so much due to any remaining suspicion of Danbury as to the fact that the latter seemed so occupied with his own interests. In fact, he was tempted far more to confide in Stubbs. The latter would be an ideal partner on such a search. As the days passed he became more and more convinced that it would be to his advantage to enlist the services of Stubbs even upon as big a basis as share and share alike.

Danbury trod the decks each day with a light step, and at night relieved his buoyant heart of its dreams to Wilson and of its plans to Stubbs. The latter had spoken once or twice of the necessity of finding something for the men below to do, but Danbury had waved aside the suggestion with a good-natured “Let ’em loaf.” But finally their grumblings and complainings grew so loud that Stubbs was forced to take some150notice of it, and so, upon his own responsibility, had them up on deck where he put them through a form of drill. But they rebelled at this and at last reached a condition which threatened to become serious.

“We’ve jus’ got to find something for them to do,” Stubbs informed him.

“They ought certainly to be kept in trim. Don’t want them to get flabby.”

“’Nother thing, they are livin’ too high,” said Stubbs. “Salt pork and hardtack is what they needs,––not beefsteak.”

“Nonsense, Stubbs. This isn’t a slave-ship. Nothing like good fodder to keep ’em in trim. They are getting just what you get at a training table, and I know what that does,––keeps you fit as a king.”

“Mebbe so. I’ll tell you what it’ull do for them,––it’ll inspire ’em to cut our bonny throats some day. The ale alone ’ud do it. Think of servin’ ale to sech as them with nothin’ to do but sit in the sun. Darned if they ain’t gettin’ to look as chubby as them babies you see in the advertisements. An’ their tempers is growin’ likewise.”

“Good fightin’ spirit, eh?”

“Yes,” drawled Stubbs, “an’ a hell of a bad thing to have on the high seas.”

“Well,” said Danbury, after a moment’s thought, “you have them up on deck to-morrow and I’ll have a talk with them.”

It was Danbury’s first opportunity to look over his mercenaries as a whole and he gave a gasp of surprise151at the row after row of villainous faces raised with sneering grins to his. Well in the front squatted “Bum” Jocelin, known to the water-front police for fifteen years,––six feet of threatening insolence; “Black” Morrison with two penitentiary sentences back of him; and “Splinter” Mallory, thin, leering, shifty. And yet Danbury, after he had recovered himself a bit, saw in their very ugliness the fighting spirit of the bulldog. He had not hired them for ornament but for the very lawlessness which led them rather to fight for what they wished than to work for it. Doubtless below their flannel shirts they all had hearts which beat warmly. So he met their gaze frankly and, raising one foot to a capstan, he bent forward with a smile and began. Stubbs stood by with the strained expression of a father who stands helpless watching a son do a foolish thing. On the other hand, Wilson, though he would not have done it himself, rather admired the spirit that prompted the act.

“Men,” began Danbury,––and Stubbs choked back an exclamation at his gentleness,––“men, I haven’t told you much about the errand upon which you are bound, but I feel now that you ought to know. You signed for two months and agreed to accept your orders from me. You were told there would be some scrapping–––”

“The hell we were,” broke in Splinter. Danbury, ignoring the interruption, blandly continued:

“And you were all picked out as men who wouldn’t balk at a bit of a mix-up. But you weren’t told what it is all about.

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“Well, then, this is the game: down there in Carlina where we are going there is a one-horse republic where they used to have a dinky little kingdom. A republic is all right when it’s an honest republic, but this one isn’t. It was stolen, and stolen from the finest woman in the world. I’m going to give you all a chance to see her some day, and I know you’ll throw up your hats then and say the game is worth it, if you don’t before.”

Their faces were as stolid as though they could not understand a word of what he was saying. But he had lost sight of them and saw only the eyes of the girl of whom he was speaking.

“Once, when she was a little girl, they put her in prison. And it wasn’t a man’s prison either, but a mangy, low-down, dog kennel. Think of it! Put her down there in the dark among the rats. But that was too much for the decent ones of even that crowd, and they had to let her go. So now she lives in a little house in her kingdom, like a beggar outside her own door.”

Danbury had worked himself up to a fever pitch. His words came hoarsely and he stepped nearer in his excitement. But as he paused once more, he realized that he was facing a pack of dummies. For a moment he stared at them in amazement. Then he burst out,

“Are you with us, men? Haven’t we something worth fighting for––something worth fighting hard for?”

He heard a rough guffaw from a few men in the rear; then a voice:

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“It’s the dough we’re out fer––no damned princess.”

Danbury whitened. He leaped forward as though to throw himself into the midst of them all, and reached for the throat of the man who had spoken. But Stubbs who had been watching, drew his revolver, and followed close behind. With the aid of Wilson he separated the two and drew off Danbury, while keeping the others at bay.

“Go below,” he commanded. “Let me talk to ’em a minute.”

“But––but the damned jellyfish––the–––”

Wilson seized his arm and managed to drag him away and down to his cabin. Then Stubbs, with feet wide apart, faced the gang. His voice was low, but they did not miss a word.

“Th’ cap’n,” he began, “has talked to ye as though ye was white men ’cause he’s young and clean an’ doesn’t know the likes of ye. He hain’t had so much to do with a bunch of white-livered, swill-tub jail birds as I have. But don’t you go further an’ make th’ mistake thet ’cause he’s young he ain’t a man yet. ’Cause if ye do, ye’ll wake up sudden with a jolt. Even if he did mistake a pack of yaller dogs fer men, don’t ye think he doesn’t know how to handle yaller dogs. But I s’pose ye are jus’ as good to shoot at as better. Now I gut ye aboard this craft––me, Stubbs,” he pointed to his breast with a thick forefinger, “an’ ye’re goneter earn yer grub afore ye’re done.”

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“Shanghaied––we was shanghaied,” ventured Splinter.

“You was, was ye? D’ ye think ye could make anyone b’lieve a man in his sober senses would shanghai the likes of you? But howsomever that may be, here you is and here you stays till ye git ashore. Then you has yer chi’ce er gittin’ shot in front er gittin’ shot behind,––gittin’ shot like white men er gittin’ shot like niggers. ’Cause I tells you right now thet in all the shootin’, I’ll be hangin’ round where I can spot the first man who goes the wrong way. An’,” he drew his weapon from his pocket, “I can shoot.”

He placed a bullet within two inches of the hand of a man who was leaning against the rail. The group huddled more closely together like frightened sheep.

“Now,” he concluded, “ye’re goneter git more exercise an’ less grub arter this. Tuck it away fer future ref’rence thet th’ next time yer cap’n talks to yer ye’d better show a little life. Now, jus’ ter prove ye appreciate what he said, cheer. An’ cheer good, ye dogs.”

They let out a howl.

“Now back to yer kennels!”

They slunk away, crowding one another in their effort to get from the range of the weapon which Stubbs still carelessly held pointed at their heels.

It was several days after this that Wilson was pacing the deck alone one night rather later than usual. The sky was filled with big, top-heavy clouds which rolled across the purple, blotting out every now and then155the half moon which sprinkled the sea with silver butterflies. The yacht quivered as though straining every timber, but it looked to Wilson a hopeless task ever to run out from under the dark cup and unchanging circumference. It seemed as though one might go on this path through eternity with the silver butterflies ever fluttering ahead into the boundless dark.

He lounged up to Martin at the wheel. The latter, a sturdy, somewhat reserved man, appeared glad to see him and showed evidence of being disturbed about something. He frequently glanced up from the lighted compass before the wheel as though on the point of speaking, but turned back to his task each time, reconsidering his impulse. Finally he cleared his throat and remarked with a fine show of indifference, “Everything been all quiet below, to-day?”

“So far as I know.”

“Been down there lately?”

“No; but the men seemed this morning in unusually good form. More cheerful than they’ve been at all.”

“So?”

For a few moments he appeared engrossed in his work, turning the creaking wheel to the right, the left, and finally steadying it on its true course. Wilson waited. The man had said enough to excite his interest and he knew the best way to induce him to talk more freely was to keep silent.

“Happened to go for’ard afore my shift to-night an’ I heard some of ’em talkin’. Didn’t sound to me like th’ sorter talk that’s good aboard ship.”

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“So? What were they saying?”

“Nothin’ much,” he answered, frightened back into stubborn silence.

“They talk pretty free at all times,” returned Wilson. “They haven’t learned much about ship discipline.”

“I hopes they don’t act as free as they talk.”

“No fear of that, I guess.”

Another long silence. Then Martin asked:

“Where’s the ammunition stowed?”

“We had it moved the other day to the vacant cabins just beyond our quarters.”

“All of it?”

“Every cartridge. Why do you ask that, Martin?”

“I happened to go for’ard afore my shift,” he repeated.

Wilson arose and stepped to his side.

“See here, if you heard anything unusual, I’d like to know it before I turn in.”

“My business is a-workin’ of this wheel, an’ what I says is we’ve gut a damned bad cargo.”

Wilson smiled. After all, it was probably only the constitutional jealousy that always exists between a seaman and a landsman.

“All right, Martin, only we’re all in the same kettle. Keep your ears open, and if you hear anything definite let me know.”

“Then I says I puts my chest agin my door afore I sleeps an’ I watches out for shadows when I’m at the wheel.”

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“And have you seen any to-night?”

“No, an’ I hopes I won’t.”

“All right. Good night.”

“Good night, sir.”

Wilson stepped out of the pilot-house and made a short round of the ship. He even ventured down to the forward hold, but all was as quiet there as ever. He turned towards his own cabin. Danbury’s light was out. Beyond he saw the form of the first mate who had been posted there to guard the ammunition. He spoke to him and received a cordial reply.

“All quiet?”

“All quiet, sir.”

The door of Stubbs’ cabin was closed, and he heard within his heavy snoring. He entered his own cabin and closed the door. But he felt uneasy and restless. Instead of undressing he threw himself down on the bunk, after placing his pistol underneath his pillow. Martin’s talk had been just suggestive enough to start his brain to working, disturbed as he was by so many other things. He had an impulse to rouse Stubbs. He wanted someone with whom to talk. He would also have been more comfortable if he had been able to make sure that those bits of parchment were still safe in his comrade’s chest, where he had locked them. If the crew once got even a suspicion that there was on board such a golden chance as these offered, it would be a temptation difficult for even better men to resist. He realized that if they were able sufficiently to surrender each his own selfish individual158desires and organize compactly under a single leader, they would form an almost irresistible force. But of course the key to the whole situation lay in the ammunition. Without this they were helpless. Knives and clubs could not resist powder and bullet. He became drowsy finally and his thoughts wandered once more to the treasure and then to Jo until his eyes closed and, though his lips still remained tense, he slept.

He was awakened by the sound of a muffled fall in the next cabin. He sprang to his feet, seizing his weapon. The electric light wire had been cut so that the cabin was in suffocating darkness. By some instinct he forced himself flat against the wall by the door. The next second the door was flung open and two forms hurled themselves with a grunt upon the bunk. He fired twice and darted out into the passageway. Here all was confusion, but all was dark. Man fell against man with oaths and wild threshing of the arms, but they all knew one another for friends. He was for the moment safe. The doors to the cabins of Stubbs and Danbury were wide open. He knew that either they had escaped by some such miracle as his, or that they were beyond help. It seemed to him that there was but one thing to do, make the deck and collect whatever honest men were left. The mutineers were still fighting with one another and had grown so panic-stricken that they were making little progress towards their goal. Quick action might even now save the ship. He heard a voice raised in a vain endeavor to control them.

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“Steady, boys, steady! Wait till we get a light.”

At the head of the stairs leading to the deck he found a sentinel. He struck at him and then grappled. The two rolled on the deck, but the struggle was brief. Wilson soon had him pinned to the deck. He raised the fellow’s head and threw him with all his strength backwards. The man lay very still after this.

When he rose to his feet the deck was as deserted as though nothing at all unusual were going on below. He rushed to the pilot-house. The ship swerved tipsily and then the engines ceased their throbbing. Martin lay limply over his wheel. The cutthroats had got below to the engines.

For a moment his head whirled with twenty impossible plans. Then he steadied himself. There was but one thing to do; the gang was evidently so far in control of the ship as to prevent aid from the crew; Danbury and Stubbs were doubtless unconscious, if not dead, and he was left, the one man still free to act. Once the rifles were loaded a hundred men could not control this crowd, but before then––one man with a loaded weapon and with his wits about him, might make himself master.

He groped his way down the stairs and into the midst of the tumult. No one had as yet obtained a light. The leader had succeeded in partly controlling his gang, but one man had only to brush the shoulder of another to start a fight. David elbowed through them, striking right and left in the endeavor to stir up anew the panic. He succeeded instantly. In160two minutes pandemonium reigned. Then a man scrambled in with a lantern and was greeted with a cheer. Wilson turned, shot twice, and ducked. The cabin was once more in darkness and confusion.

“Wha’ th’ hell?” roared Splinter.

Wilson plunged on until he stood facing the door which still barred the way to the cartridges. It was intact. At this point someone reached his side with an axe. Snatching it from the fellow’s hand he himself swung it against the lock. He had two things in mind; the act would turn away suspicion, and once within the small room, with his back to the cartridges, he could take the men one by one as they pressed through the narrow door. He had on his cartridge belt and ought to be able, not only to keep them at bay until possible aid arrived from the crew’s quarters, but might even be able to start sufficient panic to drive them out altogether. Wilson swung a couple of times until the lock weakened. Splinter shouted:

“Fer Gawd’s sake, don’t act like frightened rats! Keep cool now an’ we have ’em.”

One more blow and the door fell. With a jump Wilson scrambled in and, turning, fired four times in rapid succession. In the pause which ensued he refilled his weapon. There was a chorus of ugly growls and a concerted movement towards the door. He shot again, aiming low and relying as much on the flash and noise to frighten them as on actual killing. To those without it sounded as though there might be several161men. No one knew but what the man next to him had turned traitor. They groped for one another’s throats and finally, as though by one impulse, crowded for the exit. They fought and pounded and kicked at each other. It was every man for himself and the Devil take the hindmost. Wilson helped them along by continued shooting––aiming high and low. In five minutes the cabin was cleared save for the wounded, who managed, however, to drag themselves out of sight.

As Wilson fell back exhausted and half choked from the smoke with which the room was filled, he heard the bark of pistols above and knew that the crew had reached the deck. He waited only long enough to recover strength to walk, and then moved cautiously forward. He was undisturbed. The mutineers had gone, to the last man able to stand. He groped his way to Danbury’s cabin and his hand fell upon a limp form in the bunk. But even as he recoiled the man moved and muttered feeble queries.

“Are you safe, Danbury?” gasped Wilson.

“What––what’s the trouble? Give me a drink––brandy.”

Wilson turned to the wine closet just beyond the bunk and drew out the first bottle his fingers touched. He placed it to Danbury’s lips, and the latter took several deep swallows of it, spitting indignantly as he thrust it away.

“Darned stuff––Martini cocktails. But––but–––”

Wilson found himself laughing. Nothing Danbury162could have said would so prove the inconsequence of his injuries. It relieved his strained nerves until, in reaction, he became almost hysterical.

“What’s the joke?” demanded Danbury, rising to a sitting posture and feeling at the cut in the back of his head. “Where’s the lights? What has happened?”

“A bit of a fight. Can you make your feet?”

Danbury groped for the side of the bunk, and with the help of Wilson stood up. He was at first dizzy, but he soon came to himself.

“If you can walk, come on. I want to look for Stubbs.”

Wilson groped his way into the smoke-filled passageway and across to the other cabin. They found Stubbs lying on the floor unconscious. A superficial examination revealed no serious wound and so, urged on by the increasing noise above, they left him and hurried to the deck. They found the second mate pushing the stubborn group nearer and nearer their own quarters. He was backed by only two men armed with knives and clubs. The gang was hesitating, evidently tempted to turn upon the tiny group, but with the appearance of Wilson and Danbury they pressed at once for the narrow opening.

At sight of them Danbury completely lost his head. It was as though he then first realized what had actually been attempted. He raised his weapon and was upon the point of shooting into their midst when Wilson knocked up his hand and sent the revolver163spinning across the deck. But Danbury scarcely looked around to see who had foiled him. He rushed headlong into the group as though he were the center of a football team. He struck right and left with his naked fists and finally by chance fell upon Splinter. The two rolled upon the deck until the mate stooped and picked up Splinter bodily and, raising him above his head, fairly hurled him like a bag of grain down the ladder after the last of the mutineers.

Danbury, in spite of his loss of blood, held himself together wonderfully. For the next hour all were busy, and between them placed Splinter in irons, and crowded the mutineers, a cowed lot, into the forward hold. They found Stubbs still unconscious, but he came around after a good swig of brandy. He rose to his elbow and blinked dazedly at Danbury.

“What’s the trouble?” he demanded.

“Mutiny,” answered Danbury, briefly.

“And me laid up, an’ outer it. Jus’ my pizen luck,” he growled.

CHAPTER XIVIn the Shadow of the Andes

Assoon as lights were secured an examination of the battle ground was made. Four men were found, three of them with leg wounds which did no more than cripple them, and one with a scalp wound made by a grazing bullet which had knocked him unconscious. There was no surgeon aboard, but one of the mates had a good working knowledge of surgery and cleaned and dressed the wounds.

As soon as it was daylight Stubbs had a talk with the mutineers.

“’Course,” he informed them, “’course ye knows the medicine ye gets fer mutiny on the high seas.Every yeller dog of ye can look for’ard to a prison sentence of twenty years or so. As for Splinter––yer leader––I can ’member the time I’d ha’ had the pleasure er watchin’ him squirm from a yardarm without any further preliminaries. As ’tis, maybe he’ll be ’lowed to think it over th’ rest of his life in a cell.”

He kept them on a diet of crackers and corned beef and they never opened their lips in protest. Every day they were brought up morning and afternoon for drill. After this the three men divided the night into165the three shifts so that at least one of them was always upon guard. But the men were thoroughly cowed, and evidently hoped, by good behavior, to reëstablish themselves before port was reached.

It was during these night watches that Wilson had many long talks with Stubbs––talks that finally became personal and which in the end led him, by one of those quick impulses which make in lives for a great deal of good or wrecking harm, to confide in him the secret of the treasure. This he did at first, however, without locating it nearer than “Within five hundred miles of where we’re going,” and with nothing in his narrative to associate the idol with the priest. Truth to tell, Wilson was disappointed at the cool way in which Stubbs listened. But the latter explained his indifference somewhat when he remarked, removing the clay pipe from his mouth:

“M’ boy, I’m sorter past my treasure hunting days. Once’t I dug up ’bout an acre of sand on one of the islands of the South seas an’ it sorter took all th’ enthusiasm, as ye might say, fer sech sport outern me. We didn’t git nothin’ but clam shells, as I remember. Howsomever, I wouldn’t git nothin’ but clam shells outern a gold mine. Thet’s th’ way m’ luck runs. Maybe th’ stuff’s there, maybe it ain’t; but if I goes, it ain’t.”

He added, a moment later:

“Howsomever, I can see how, in order to find the girl, you has to go. The dago gent––if he lives––will make fer that right off. I’ve heern o’ women with166the gift o’ conjurin’––like seventh sons o’ seventh sons––but I ain’t ever met with sech. I dunno now––I dunno now but what I might consider your proposition if we comes outern this right and the cap’n here can spare me. I can’t say this minute as how I takes much stock in it, as ye might say. But I tell ye fair, I’m glad to help a pardner and glad to have a try, fer the sake of the girl if nothin’ more. I don’t like ter see an older man play no sech games as this man––who d’ ye say his name is?”

“Sorez.”

“Maybe we can find out more ’bout him down here. Anyhow, we’ll talk it over, boy, when we gits through this. In the meanwhile yer secret is safe.”

Wilson felt better at the thought that there was now someone with whom he could talk freely of the treasure. It became the main topic of conversation during the watch which he usually sat out with Stubbs, after his own.

The ship’s log of the remainder of this long journey would read as uninterestingly as that of an ocean liner. Day succeeded day, and week followed week, with nothing to disturb the quiet of the trip. A stop was made at Rio for coal, another after rounding the Horn (here they did not have the excitement of even high seas), and another halfway up the West coast. But at these places not a man was allowed to leave the ship, Danbury, Wilson, and Stubbs themselves remaining on board in fear of a possible attempt on the part of the mercenaries to land.

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As a matter of fact, the latter were thoroughly frightened and did their best by good behavior to offset the effect of their attempt. They were obedient at drills, respectful to all, and as quiet as the crew itself. This was as Stubbs had anticipated, but he on his side gave no sign of relenting in the slightest until the day before they sighted Choco Bay, where the landing was to be made. On the contrary, by dark hints and suggestions he gave them to understand that certain of them––and no one knew who was included in this generality––stood actually in danger of prison sentences. So they outdid one another in the hope of reinstating themselves. At the conclusion of what was to be their last drill Stubbs called them to attention and sprung the trap to which he had been gradually leading them. He studied them with a face heavy with clouds.

“We are nearing our port,” he drawled, “an’ some of you are nearin’ the jail. An’ a jail in these diggin’s, my beauties, is a thing that ain’t no joke, ’cause they shets you up below ground where ye has only your natural frien’s the rats fer playmates,––rats as big as dogs an’ hungry as sharks, as ye might say. Sometimes the cap’n of these here ports fergits ye––’specially if they’s frien’s er mine. If they thinks of it, they brings yer sour bread an’ water an’ yer fights the rats fer it; if they fergits, as they has a way er doin’, you jus’ stay there until the rats gits stronger than you. Then, little by little, yer goes. But they buries yer bones very partic’lar, if they finds any. They takes their time in this country, they takes their time.”

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Several of the men in the rear huddled closer to one another. One or two in the front row wiped the back of their hands over their brows.

“They can’t take ’Merican citizens,” growled someone.

“No, they can’t––wuss luck for the ’Merican citizens. The others stand some show––but ’Merican citizens don’t stand none. ’Cause they shets yer up without a hearin’ and communicates with the consul. The consul is drunk mostly an’ devilesh hard to find an’ devilesh slow to move. But the rats ain’t,––Lord, no, the rats ain’t. They is wide awake an’ waitin’.”

A big man in the rear shouldered his way to the front.

“See here, Cap’n,” he blurted out, “I’ve had a talk with some of the men, an’ we don’t want none er that. We’ve done wrong, maybe, but, Gawd, we don’t want thet. Give us a show,––give us a fightin’ show. We’ll go where you say and we’ll fight hard. We weren’t used to this sorter thing an’ so it comes a bit tough. But give us a show an’ we’ll prove what we can do.”

He turned to the band behind him.

“Wha’ d’ yer say, fellers? Is this on the level?”

“Sure! Sure! Sure!”

The cry came heartily.

Stubbs thought a moment.

“Is this here another little game?” he asked. “Once yer git on land are yer goin’ ter turn yeller agin?”

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“No! No! No!”

“’Cause it won’t do yer no good, anyhow. Now I tell yer––the cap’n an’ I had a talk over this an’ I was fer lettin’ yer take yer medicine an’ pickin’ up another bunch. Men is cheap down here. But he says, ‘No; if they’ll act like white men, give ’em a show. I want to git this princess with ’Mericans an’ I want to show these fellers what ’Mericans can do behin’ a rifle.’ Our game is to git to Carlina and lick the bunch of Guinnies thet has stolen the young lady’s throne. If ye wanter do thet an’ do it hard and square––well, he’s fer lettin’ this other thing drop. Fight an’ yer gits cash ’nuff to keep drunk fer a year; squeal an’ yer gits shot in the back without any more talk. There’s a square offer––do ye take it like men?”

“Sure! Give us a show!”

“Then three cheers fer yer cap’n––Cap’n Danbury.”

This time the cheers were given with a will, and the boat rang with the noise.

“Now then, lay low an’ take yer orders. An’ I wish yer luck.”

“Three cheers fer Cap’n Stubbs,” shouted someone.

And as Stubbs bashfully beat a hasty retreat, the cheers rang lustily in his ears.

But he reported to Danbury with his face beaming.

“Now,” he said, “ye’ve gut some men worth something. They’ll be fightin’ fer themselves––fightin’ to keep outern jail. Mutiny has its uses.”

The next morning the anchor clanked through blue170waters into golden sand and the throbbing engines stopped.

The land about Choco Bay is a pleasant land. It is surpassed only by the plains along the upper Orinoco where villages cluster in the bosom of the Andes in a season of never changing autumn. Nearer the coast the climate is more fitful and more drowsy. One wonders how history would have been changed had the early Puritans chanced upon such rich soil for their momentous conquering, instead of the rock-ribbed, barren coast of New England. The same energy, the same dauntless spirit, the same stubborn clinging to where the foot first fell, if expended here, would have gained for them and their progeny a country as near the Garden of Eden as any on earth. But perhaps the balmy breezes, the warming sun, the coaxing sensualism of Nature herself would have wheedled them away from their stern principles and turned them into a nation of dreamers. If so, what dreamers we should have had! We might have had a dozen more Keatses, perhaps another Shakespeare. For this is a poet’s land, where things are only half real. The birds sing about Choco Bay.

Rippling through the blue waters after dark, the yacht glided in as close to the shore as possible. The morning sun revealed a golden semicircle of sand rimming the turquoise waters of the bay. Across the blue sky above seagulls skimmed and darted and circled; so clear the waters beneath that the clean bottom showed like a floor of burnished gold. The harbor proper lay171ten miles beyond, where a smaller inlet with deeper soundings was protected from the open inrush of the sea by the promontory forming one tip of this broader crescent. Far, very far in the distance the lofty Andes raised their snowy crests––monarchs which, Jove-like, stood with their heads among the clouds. So they had stood while kings were born, fought their petty fights, died, and gave place to others; so they stood while men contended for their different gods; so they stood while men loved and followed their loves into other spheres. It was these same summits upon which Wilson now looked which had greeted Quesada, and these same summits at which Quesada had shaken his palsied fist. It was these same summits which but a short while before must have greeted Jo; it was possible that at their very base he might find her again, and with her a treasure which should make her a queen before men. It made them seem very intimate to him.

CHAPTER XVGood News and Bad

ThoughWilson had listened with interest enough to the plans of the present campaign as outlined to him by Danbury, it must be confessed that he was still a bit hazy about the details. He understood that three interests were involved; those of the Revolutionary party, who under General Otaballo were inspired by purely patriotic motives in their desire to see the present government overthrown; those of Danbury, who was governed by more sentimental considerations, and, finally, those of the priest, who was prompted by revenge. General Otaballo was the last of one of those old families of Carlina who had spent their lives in the service of the family of Montferaldo. His grandfather, to go back no further, had died defending the last reigning queen, his father had been shot for leading a conspiracy to restore the family, and now the grandson was following in the old way. He was an old man now and had missed death a hundred times by narrow margins owing to his connection with just such enterprises as this. This was to be his last stand and into it he was throwing his heart and soul and to his standard gathering whatever forces he could win by hook or crook. It173was he who had heard of Danbury and it was he who had prompted him to bargain with the priest. With a record of past defeats he himself had lost prestige with the hill people. And yet both the priest and Danbury turned to him now to manage the campaign. He knew the people, he knew every detail of the Republican army, every particular of the forts and other defenses, and every traitor in their ranks.

To take Carlina it was necessary only to capture Bogova, its capital. This city of some 20,000 inhabitants lay about the inner port and some eight miles from the bay where Danbury’s yacht now rode at anchor, safely, because of the treachery of the harbor patrol, who to a man were with the Revolutionists. Danbury had been instructed by Otaballo, through the priest, to make this harbor and remain until receiving further instructions. The latter came within three hours in the form of two letters; one from the General, and the other, enclosed, from the princess herself. Danbury tore open the letter before glancing at the official communication. He read it through and then stood with it in his hand looking dreamily out across the blue waters. He whistled to himself. Then handing it to Wilson, he asked,

“What do you think of that?”

Wilson read,

“Dear Dick:

I hope you have thought over what I said to you and haven’t planned to do anything foolish. Because, honestly, it can’t do any good. The old people are174gone and with them the old cause. But I have heard rumors on all sides until I am nearly frightened to death about what you may have stirred up. When General Otaballo stole in this morning and showed me beneath his coat that old uniform I knew something serious was meant.

And, Dicky, I don’t want to be a queen––even to get revenge upon the cads who haven’t been nice. I don’t want to rule; it’s more bother than it’s worth; I’m afraid the royal blood has got pretty well thinned out in me, for I don’t feel any thrill stirring within at the war-cry,––only trembles. I want to jog along the same old peaceful path and I want you to come and see me like the dear good friend you’ve always been. And if you’ve got your pockets full of pistols, and your hands full of swords, throw them away, Dicky, and just jump into a carriage and come up and have supper with me. I’ve really been lonesome for you,––more, to be honest, than I thought I’d be or than I like to be. It’s the woman and not the queen who has been lonesome, too. So be a good boy and don’t get either of us into trouble, but bring the general to tea with you. We can fight it all out just as well over the cakes and no one the wiser.

Yours,Beatrice.”

Wilson smiled.

“I should think,” he said, “that it might be pleasant to––take supper with her.”

Danbury spoke earnestly.

“But a man can’t sit and eat cakes while such as she is insulted on her own streets. A man can’t drink tea with her––he must be up and doing for her. I shall take supper with her when she is a queen in her own kingdom.”

“She doesn’t seem to want to be queen.”

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“But she shall,” he exclaimed, “by the grace of God, she shall, within two days!”

He tore open the missive from General Otaballo, and read aloud the instructions. But not until the last paragraph did Wilson learn anything of moment. Then, in a second his whole attitude towards the campaign was changed.

“In addition to your present interest in this movement, I have news that ought to spur your men on to added effort; the dogs of Republicans have arrested and imprisoned an American young lady, who reached here on the Columba in company with Dr. Sorez. The latter, though formerly a loyal Republican, has for some reason been thought in league with us, though, as far as I know, he is not. But the girl is the victim of the arbitrary and unjust persecution which has always been meted out to foreigners.”

Wilson was left dumb for a moment. But his mind soon grasped the urgency of the situation. He placed his hand upon Danbury’s arm.

“Danbury,” he said quietly, “I’ve got to get to her.”

“You don’t mean to say that this is–––”

“The same one. Evidently Sorez has got her into trouble.”

“But this is serious––this imprisonment. The dungeons aren’t fit for a dog.”

“I know,” answered Wilson; “but we’ll get her out.”

“We can’t, until we batter down the old prison.Theywon’t let her out––not for us.”

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“But why should they shut her up? What possible excuse can they have? It’s outrageous. If we can reach the authorities–––”

“We’ll be locked up too. The authorities would be glad to have you come within reach. No, their suspicions are aroused, and to make a move towards her release would be only to excite them to do worse. You’ll have to wait–––”

“That’s impossible. Wait, with her in the hands of those ruffians!”

“Wait until we get the ruffians in our hands. Otaballo plans the attack for early to-morrow; we ought to be in the city by noon. Once the place is ours you can take a force of men and go through the jail; I imagine that it is in the old palace. That is where I was locked up overnight, at any rate; and if it is like that–––”

Wilson glanced up swiftly, his face pale.

“It was bad?”

“It was worse than that. But maybe they have a better place for the women.”

The remainder of the day was a nightmare to Wilson. He paced the decks until in weariness he dropped into his bunk. Both Danbury and Stubbs kept a watch upon him for fear that he might attempt to go ashore on some wild project for reaching the city. He scarcely slept an hour that night and went with the first boat load to leave the ship.

A full moon lighted the beach like a colorless sun. He stood with the silent group handling their Winchesters.177There was not one of them, even though he peered somewhat anxiously into the deep shadows by the roadside, who did not feel more of a man now that he was on shore; this, even with the prospect of danger ahead. They were essentially landsmen––a thing which Stubbs had not understood. They looked upon the ship only as a prison. Now, with their feet on firm ground, they were a different lot of men. Few of them were actual cowards, and still fewer of them objected to the prospective fight, even though they had been drawn into it in what they considered an underhanded way. But the real reason for their good humor lay deeper, so deep that not one man had dared as yet whisper it to another, although each knew the other to be of the same mind. This was the prospect of loot. Whichever side won, there would be a fine confusion in a lawless city, with opportunities galore for plunder.

Most of them had vague notions that these South American cities were fabulously rich in gold. Consequently, if they could not be depended upon afterwards, they could be trusted to do their best to make the city, and to fight so long as their own security was in jeopardy. To rebel before they got there would only place them between two fires, and they feared Stubbs too well to attempt it even if there was a chance. So, take them all in all as they stood there upon dry land, they were about as fair a fighting lot as mercenaries ever average.

The last thing to be brought from the boat was the ammunition, and this was not distributed until the178only method left of reaching the ship was by swimming. Wilson sat upon the boxes with a revolver in each hand until the last boat left the shore. Then Stubbs broke open the boxes and made his final speech to the men who in a way he was now placing without his authority.

“Afore I gives you these,” he began, “I wants to remind yer of the little talk we had t’ other night. Each man of yer gits fifty cartridges and with them either he makes Bogova er Hell. There ain’t no other stoppin’ places. Ye may have thought, some of ye, that once yer rifles was loaded ye could do ’bout as ye pleased. But t’ain’t so. Jus’ behin’ you there’ll march one hundred men from the hills. They don’t know much, but they obey orders, an’ their orders is to shoot anybody what ain’t goin’ our way. Ye’ve got a chance, marchin’ straight on an’ takin’ the city; ye ain’t gut the ghost of a chance, if ye don’t take the city er if ye fergits the way and starts back towards the ship. ’Nother thing; hold tergether. It ain’t pleasant fer a man caught by hisself in Bogova. Thet’s all, gents, an’ I hopes it will be my pleasant duty to hand ye soon a five-dollar gold piece fer everyone of these here things I now hands ye.”

Wilson suppressed a shout, and soon there was the confused clicking of the locks as they closed over the full chambers of the rifles. It was music to the ears of Danbury, who from the moment his feet had touched shore was impatient to take the road without further delay. Wilson was just as bad, if not worse,179which left Stubbs really the only man of them all able to think calmly and somewhat rationally.

He formed the men into columns of two, hastily inspected each one of them, and finally got them started with Danbury and the guide leading, Wilson, on the right side, and himself on the left and well to the rear where he could watch for possible desertions until the hill men took their place behind them. It was a new world for them all; the strange tropical foliage silhouetted against the vivid night sky, the piercing perfume of new flowers, and the shadow jungle either side made it seem almost unreal. At the junction of this forest path and the main road the hill men fell in behind like ghosts. They were brown, medium-sized men, dressed in cotton trousers and blouses. They were without shoes or hats and were armed with a medley of weapons, from modern rifles to the big, two-edged sword with which their ancestors fought. Save under the leadership of the priest, they were said not to be good fighters, but with him to spur them on they became veritable demons, hurling themselves upon the enemy with a recklessness only possible to religious fanatics. So fiercely had they resisted the attack made upon them in the expedition of the hills that it was said that not within ten years would it be possible to organize again sufficient men with courage to venture to cross the Andes.

The road turned and twisted, wandered up hill and down, beckoning them on through this phantasmal world which but for them would have slept on in180aromatic peace. To Wilson this all seemed part of a dream. It was one of those strange visions he had seen between the stars that night after the crash when he had gazed from his study window. Somehow it did not seem to belong in his life at all. The girl did, but nothing else did. It was meant for him to have her, but in the usual ruts of men.

This was some other self which, with holsters and cartridge belt, was marching in the dark with this group of uncouth men. The only thing that made it real was the fact that he was moving towards her. Once he had found her he would go back again and seek his place in the vast machine which weaved cloths of more sober fabric. Then he thought of the map which he had taken from the chest and put into his pocket. That, too, was a part of this dream. It was fitting that in such an atmosphere as this there should be hidden gold and jewels; fitting, too, that this new self of his should be in search of them. But if only he could reach her, if only he could have her fairly within his arms, he would give this up to others who had more need of it. She had said that if ever she were in need of him, she would call and he would come to her. That seemed like an idle phrase at the time, and yet it had come true. She had called and he was now on his way to give her aid. He could not imagine her in the dungeon.

At the end of two hours, a rifle shot spat through the dark branches by the roadside. Then silence––a silence so unbroken that it seemed in a minute as181though the noise had never been. Then Otaballo rode up at a gallop and gave a few orders. His men, who led the forces, divided silently and disappeared each side of the road into the dark timber. Then for another half hour the remainder of the men marched on as before. The sky began to brighten in the east. A grayish pink stole from the horizon line and grew ever brighter and brighter as though a breeze were blowing into the embers of an ash-covered fire. The pink grew to crimson and with it the shadows sought their deeper haunts. As the first real beams of the sun shot above the distant hills the angular jumble of distant roof-tops became silhouetted against the clear, blue sky.

A messenger came galloping down the road with orders for Danbury.

“You are to enter by the East Road. Follow your guide.”

The sputtering report of distant rifles came to their ears.

“But, see here,” protested Danbury, “the fighting is straight ahead.”

“Take your orders,” advised Wilson. “There will be enough of that to go around, I guess.”

The rattle directly ahead acted like wine upon Danbury. Wilson heard him shout.

“All right, men. Let’s take it at double-quick.”

But the men could not stand the pace he cut out and so he was forced to fall back to stubborn marching. Their path swung to the right, and past many straggling182houses where the good housewives were just up and kindling their fires, with no inkling of what was about. To them nothing was ahead but the meagre routine of another day. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of the passing men and returned, startled, to drag out their sleepy spouses and all the children. The sun had warmed the whole of this little world now and trees and houses stood out clean and distinct as though freshly washed. To the left the dry crackle of the rifles still sounded. It was evident that Otaballo had met with a good-sized force and one evidently prepared. It was not long before the road took them into the city proper. Before they had reached the first paved street Danbury turned to his men.

“Now, come on at a jump. There is a five-hundred-dollar bonus to the first man in the palace.”

He drew a revolver from his holster and, spurring on the guide, encouraged the men to a double-quick. Wilson kept by his side. They ran through the silent streets like phantom ghouls in a deserted city. Every window was tight shut and every door double-barred. The rumor had spread fast and entered the city an hour before them. They made a great rattling as they ran heavily down the narrow alleys and through the silent squares, but they received no more attention than a party of merry-makers returning in the small hours from some country dance. Then they rounded a corner and––a blinding flash from a red line of rifles checked their brisk progress. Wilson staggered back a few steps with his hand over his eyes like a183man hit beneath the chin. The noise was deafening. Then he turned slowly in a daze and looked to see what the men were doing. A half dozen of them had lain down as though to sleep, sprawled out in curiously uncomfortable attitudes. The others had paused a moment as if in doubt.

Their frightened eyes brought him to himself.

“Come on,” he growled. “Shoot low and fast.”

A group of the real fighters swept past to the accompaniment of biting snaps like the explosion of firecrackers. Then he fought his way to the front again, elbowing men to one side.

The thing that seemed remarkable to him was that he could face that spitting red line of rifles and yet keep his feet. They must be poor shots, he thought. He himself began to shoot rather deliberately. He did not see the faces of the men at whom he shot, for he always aimed at their breasts. Once, however, he took careful aim at a white face which lay against the breech of a rifle leveled at him. He aimed for the white space between the eyes quite as coolly as though he were facing a target. Yet he jumped a little in surprise as, following his report, he saw a blotch of red appear where he had aimed––saw it for just a second before the man reeled forward heavily and sunk as though he had no backbone.

The powder smoke choked him, but he loved it. He liked the smell of it and the taste of it, because it led to her. He lost all sense of personalities. The forms before him were not men. He forgot all about his comrades;184forgot even what it was all about, except that he was hewing a path to her. It was just a noisy medley in which he had but one part to play,––shoot and press on to the dungeon which confined her.

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