At the Point of the Sword Part 25

"I think not. As far as I know, the colonel's only paying a flying visit to the capital. Why are you laughing?"

"Because I'm rather doubtful of that. If Miller goes to Lima, it's a proof there are hard knocks about. And high time too! According to the talk, the war should have been done with long ago."

Next day the colonel made his arrangements, and on the following morning he set out, leaving Major Videla in charge of the district.

Rather to my surprise, Jose formed one of the party, which consisted only of us three.

Under some circ.u.mstances the journey would have been tedious; but Colonel Miller was very agreeable, and told us many interesting stories of his adventurous career. Thus the time pa.s.sed pleasantly enough, and on the evening of September 11, 1821, we arrived in the neighbourhood of Lima.

The capital, as I have said, was in possession of the Patriots; but a Royalist garrison still held Callao, and the Royalist general, Canterac, with a small army, had just swooped down from the mountains to help his friends. Our soldiers were chiefly stationed between the two towns; but the citizens of Lima had armed themselves, and swaggered about talking of the great deeds they were about to perform.

The colonel, aware of my anxiety, agreed that I should pay a visit to my mother at once.

"I must see General San Martin," said he. "He may give me a post here, and if so, I will send for you. But you have earned a few days' rest, and I shall not omit to mention you favourably to the protector."

As soon as he had gone, Jose and I rode on quickly. My heart beat fast, and my hands trembled so that I had to use both in holding the reins.

"I suppose it is all right, Jose," I remarked as we drew near the house. "I suppose there is nothing wrong?"

"No, no," replied he; "why should there be? You are nervous, my boy, that's all. Cheer up; in a short time you will be in your mother's arms."

At the outer gate I drew back, leaving Jose to accost the janitor, who greeted him heartily. Then in silence we rode through the park to the courtyard, and in response to our knocking Antonio appeared.

On seeing me the old man would have screamed with delight, but I checked him, saying softly, "Hush, Antonio; tell me quickly of your mistress, my mother. Is she well?"

"In health, senor, but sad. Ah, the house has been very lonely for many a long day!"

"Go you, Jose," said I, "and prepare her."

"Joy never kills," answered he, laughing; "but perhaps it will be as well for me to go in first."

I waited a few moments, and then dismounting, walked softly towards the entrance. What would she say? what would she do? My heart almost ceased beating as I stood in the shadow listening. The door was wide open, and a stream of light came from the s.p.a.cious hall.

Suddenly I heard a quick step, and then my mother's voice crying, "Juan! my Juan! where are you?" And running forward, I threw myself joyfully into her arms. She kissed me repeatedly, and then hand in hand we went inside.

"Mother!" I cried, "mother!" and for a long time that was the only word spoken. We sat down side by side, and her beautiful eyes, dimmed by very joy, looked into mine. She pressed my hand, smoothed my cheeks, and brushed back the hair from my forehead, murmuring softly, "Juan, my Juan!"

I think, perhaps, that great happiness, like great grief, kills speech.

At least it was so with us, and we were content to sit there silently gazing into each loved face.

At length the good old major-domo, knocking timidly at the door, announced that supper was served, when my mother with a sigh suffered me to leave her for a few minutes, in order to make myself more presentable for the table.

I would have had Jose sit down with us, but he disappeared, and perhaps after all it was as well. My mother made only a pretence at eating, and sat with her eyes fixed on me, as though fearful I should in some mysterious way suddenly disappear.

After supper we returned to the drawing-room, where I related my adventures, telling her the story of the shipwreck, of my rescue and imprisonment in the fort, of my marvellous escape, and all the various incidents which had happened since I left home. Of Santiago's information concerning my father I said nothing, though I longed greatly to do so.

"I think General Barejo wished you well," she exclaimed after a pause.

"He is not of our way of thinking, but he has a kind heart, and he was a true friend to me before these troubles came upon us."

"Was he ever friendly with father?" I asked.

"He respected him much, though he thought him greatly mistaken. You see, their ideas were altogether opposed, but in private life each esteemed the other."

Presently, remembering that the Royalists no longer held Lima, I said, "What has become of little Rosa? I hope our people have not disturbed her, though it must be lonely for her living in that great house alone.

Could she not have come to you?"

"There was no need," and my mother's lips curled scornfully; "she is safe enough with her father."

"With her father?" I echoed, in astonishment. "How can he take a delicate child like that into a rough camp?"

"His house is not a rough camp, Juan!"

The truth did not strike me at first, so I said innocently, "Oh, has he been wounded and obtained permission to be nursed at home? Is he seriously hurt?"

"He is quite well, I believe, and is one of us."

"Felipe Montilla turned _Patriot_?" I cried in amazement.

Now let me not be misunderstood. I honestly believed our cause just.

In my small way I had ventured my life for the independence of Peru, and was quite ready to venture it again. But this man had boasted his loyalty to the Spanish king, had fought under his flag, had taken high rank in his army! He had accepted from him both honours and broad lands, and then at the first reverse in his fortunes had slunk away like a whipped cur.

"A fig for such Patriots!" cried I hotly. "Were I San Martin, he should be whipped back to the men he has deserted. Give me a loyal friend or a stout enemy, I care not which; but these _jellyfish_--bah!

they are an abomination."

"You are young, my boy, and not quite wise enough to understand these things. Is it not to Don Felipe's credit that he should openly confess his mistake?"

"And save his estates into the bargain," said I wrathfully. "Let the Spaniards get the upper hand, and you will find him back in their ranks quickly enough."

"A man must follow the guiding of his conscience, even if it lead to his advantage," remarked my mother quietly. "But if you are indignant with Don Felipe, you will be equally delighted with Rosa. She is still Loyalist to the core, and makes no secret of it. She told San Martin the other day that he was a busybody, meddling in affairs that did not concern him, and that the people of Peru could settle their disputes without his interference."

"Bravo, Rosa!" I cried, with a laugh; "there is nothing like speaking one's mind. I'll wager San Martin prefers the girl to her father.

Have you seen the general?"

"Yes; he paid me a friendly visit on purpose to show his admiration for your dear father. He is a most remarkable man."

It was not until the evening drew to a close that my mother spoke of what lay nearest her heart--our plans for the future. She admitted with a sigh that I must in honour offer my services to San Martin. I was still young, but there were many boys fighting in the ranks, and some had already sacrificed their lives for the cause.

"It is hard to let you go again," said she, pressing me fondly to her, "and yet I must. G.o.d grant that the war may soon be brought to an end!"

"Amen to that!" I exclaimed fervently. "Fighting is not to my liking, but I cannot stand idly by while others risk their lives for my benefit."

"No," said my mother, kissing me good-night; "you must do your duty, my boy. Your father would have wished it."

A few minutes later I went to my room, and was just closing the door when Jose appeared. He looked hot and flushed, and I asked where he had been.

"To the camp," said he, with a laugh, "to see what's going on. I thought the colonel must have had some special news. Unless San Martin holds his hand, the Spaniards are lost. They can't stay at Callao, as there isn't food even for the garrison; they aren't strong enough to take Lima: they must retreat or starve."

"Well?" I exclaimed questioningly.