At the Point of the Sword Part 20

"I understand it is useless to ask for your parole, major," he said.

"Your mind is quite made up on the point?"

"Yes, sir," answered Santiago, smiling in his easy, graceful way. "An opportunity to escape may not arise but if it does, I shall certainly seize it."

"Quite right!" exclaimed the colonel; "but I fear you will be disappointed. However, though guarding you rigidly, we shall put you to as little inconvenience as possible. You will find half a dozen companions in misfortune in the prison. Most of the captured rank and file have joined the Patriots."

The major's lip curled scornfully, but he only said, "I am obliged to you, colonel, for your kindness. Some day perhaps I may be able to return it."

"Not in the same way, I hope," laughed Colonel Miller. "I have had a taste of Spanish prison life already, major. But when the war is over I trust we may meet again."

Then he sent for an officer and a file of soldiers, and Santiago turned to bid us a cheery farewell.

"Good-bye," said he brightly; "I have had a pleasant time with you.--If I do succeed in escaping, Crawford, I will inquire further into your father's story.--Ah, here is my escort!" and with a salute to the colonel and a nod to us, he took his place in front of the men, while the officer received his chief's instructions.

"He's a plucky fellow. I should have liked to set him free," I said, as we strolled back to our quarters.

"To do more mischief!" growled Jose. "I'm sorry for him, in a way, but it's better for us that he should be under lock and key. And that reminds me! How did Colonel Miller take the Silver Key business?"

"Very badly; called it tampering with the troops."

"So it was, but it saved our lives, all the same. I shall be rather pleased when we leave this district; the governor won't regard either of us too favourably."

"He can't hurt us now the colonel is here."

"No," replied Jose, with a curious smile "but we might meet with a nasty accident. Perhaps you remember my remark, made two years ago, that accidents are common in Peru. It's as true now as then."

As it chanced, Jose was shortly to have his wish; for although we did not know it then, the colonel had decided to abandon Moquegua. Many of the troops were down with the ague, the place was a difficult one to defend, unless against a weak attack, and La Hera was already on the march with a force far superior to ours. This, however, we did not learn till two days later.

CHAPTER XI.

A NARROW ESCAPE.

"It is a great honour," exclaimed Jose, "and you should feel proud."

I had just returned from an interview with the colonel, who had asked me to undertake for a short time the duties of his private secretary.

It seemed a simple task then, but afterwards I regarded it differently.

For the next three weeks I was attached to the colonel, who took me with him everywhere. A secretary is generally supposed to write, but my work consisted in riding. Day after day, from morning till night, we were on horseback, now travelling over sandy deserts to the seash.o.r.e, again penetrating into the heart of the mountains--hungry, thirsty, and tired, and always in danger of falling into the hands of the enemy.

As a measure of precaution our little force retired to Tacna, where, much to my satisfaction, the colonel received from Lima news of an armistice. This, of course, extended to all parts of the country; but I was mistaken in thinking it would increase my leisure, as my time was still kept fully occupied.

In one way this was a good thing, as it kept me from brooding over Santiago's story, though even at the busiest times the thought of my father's fate would creep into my mind. I saw nothing of Jose, who had been left behind with some Indians to hold a mountain pa.s.s, but occasionally I paid a brief visit to the Spanish prisoners for a chat with the friendly major.

We had been at Tacna a month, when one evening Colonel Miller said abruptly: "Crawford, the armistice is at an end, and we must retreat.

Tell Videla to send the stores and the sick to Arica the first thing in the morning; then carry this order to Ilo. You will find three small brigs there; they are to sail at once for Arica. Take Castro the guide with you, and rejoin me on the march to Arica."

"Very good, sir," I replied, though my words belied my feelings.

However, I went out, gave Videla the colonel's message, and hunted up the guide.

Castro was an educated Indian, trained by one of the missionaries, and a very decent fellow. I found him sound asleep; but he rose at once, looked to see if his bag of coca was full, loaded his pistols, and saddled his horse.

"A pleasant night for a ride, lieutenant,"--the colonel had given me that rank,--"and every yard will take us further from the Spaniards. I hear that La Hera is getting ready to swoop."

"He will find his pigeon a hawk if he comes too close," I answered, laughing. "Bring your horse, and wait for me at the hospital."

The night was still young, and many people, civilians and military, were in the street, talking in excited whispers. It was plain that they had heard of La Hera's approach, and were discussing what they knew of the colonel's plans.

Soon, however, the town was left behind, and we had fairly started on our journey. There was no danger in it, except that of getting lost, which, with Castro for a guide, was not likely to happen. He knew the district as well as, perhaps better than, I knew the streets of Lima.

We jogged along quietly till midnight, not wishing to tire the animals, and then stopped near the edge of a sandy desert for an hour's rest.

By this time I had begun to hate the very sight of sand; it seemed to me more dreary and pitiless than the stoniest of barren ground. Castro did not mind in the least, but lay on his back looking at the starry sky and placidly chewing his coca.

"Come, lieutenant," said he briskly at the end of an hour, "it is time to mount;" and we were soon plodding on as patiently as before.

It was nine o'clock when we finally arrived at Ilo. It may have been owing to my own tired state, but I thought I had never seen such a miserable and desolate spot in all my life. The houses were wretched mud-built hovels, and the few people in the place looked woebegone beyond belief.

The three brigs were in keeping with the village, being old and worm-eaten, and the craziest craft imaginable. I would not have sailed one across a pond. However, I sought out the commander of this ragged squadron, and gave him the colonel's order.

On reading it his face brightened, and he declared his intention of running out to sea that very afternoon.

"He doesn't look much of a hero," observed Castro; "but," with an expressive glance at the three floating coffins, "I imagine there are few braver men in Peru."

"One need not be brave to seize any chance of getting away from this depressing place," said I. "I believe I could easily take the risk of being drowned if there were no other way of escape."

"You will have the risk, lieutenant, if we are to go afloat in these brigs; but my opinion is that the bottoms will drop out of them before they reach Arica."

"In that case we must either beat La Hera or be annihilated."

"That's what it looks like," replied Castro coolly.

We stabled our horses in a tumble-down shed, fed and watered them, and, as it was impossible to leave till they were rested, lay down to s.n.a.t.c.h a brief sleep on the ground. We were invited to use the floor of a hovel for a couch, but after glancing at it, declined with great politeness and many sonorous words of thanks.

When we awoke the brigs had disappeared, and a roaring wind was sweeping down from the north.

"They'll never make headway against that," remarked Castro. "We can return to the colonel and tell him his brigs are at the bottom of the sea. There will be a pretty tune played presently, and La Hera will provide the music."

To a sailor, perhaps, the danger would not have seemed formidable; but standing on that desolate beach, listening to the hurricane rush of the wind, I could not but think Castro was right. And if indeed he had prophesied truly, then was our little force in sad straits. Burdened with sick, hampered by fleeing patriots, enc.u.mbered by prisoners, with half his troops weakened as usual by ague, the English colonel could neither fight nor flee. What, then, could he do? By this time every one knew him too well to dream he would surrender.

"Castro," said I, "we carry bad news, and bad news flies apace. Let us keep up the reputation of the old proverb. Half an hour or so may make all the difference in the world."

He made a grimace as if to say that a few minutes more or less would matter little; but he saddled his horse promptly, nevertheless, and was ready to start as soon as I.

"I reckon," he said, "that we may strike the road from Tacna to Arica by midnight to-morrow, unless our animals founder by the way. Can you trust your horse?"

"The colonel selected him."

"That ought to be sufficient warrant. The chief knows a horse, though he will ride in the absurd English style."