At the Point of the Sword Part 54

A young Colombian officer levelled his pistol; but Miller struck it up, saying,--

"The odds are heavy enough now. If you want the flag, get it with your sword."

The youngster's face flushed, but he kept his temper, and saluting the general, dashed after Santiago, crying,--

"To me, Colombians!"

As Suares had foreseen, our action gave the beaten squadron a chance to rally; officers and men who had survived the crushing avalanche collected in groups, and the fight was proceeding fiercely on the open plain. Ordering our squadron to re-form, the general placed himself at our head.

Meanwhile, I was watching the gallant Santiago and his handful of men.

He was a superb rider, and able to guide his horse without using the reins, thus leaving both hands free. His Royalist comrades, now reunited, were opposite the defile, and too far off to help, while several detachments of Patriot cavalry were hurrying to cut off his retreat. Behind him, too, thundered the hot-headed Colombian officer with a dozen troopers.

"That plucky Royalist officer will be killed," said the general to Colonel Suares. "He's a gallant fellow--eh, Crawford?"

"He is, sir," I answered warmly; "and I'd give anything to see him get through safely."

"Why, Crawford," returned the general, smiling, "that sounds very much like treason."

By this time we ourselves were in motion, but as my place was on the flank, I had a good view of Santiago's desperate venture. A body of Colombians, some twenty strong, had thrown themselves across his path; and though they were our allies, I could hardly keep from cheering as he dashed through them, losing, as far as could be seen, only one man of his little band.

Casting a backward glance to see how his followers fared, he waved the flag again, and I could guess at the defiant shout of "Viva el Rey!"

that came from his lips.

"He's just splendid," said I, between my teeth. But surely now his time was come! Close on his heels rode the beaten Colombians, while in front another detachment, far stronger, awaited him. What would he do--surrender? That, I felt sure, would never enter his head.

One chance of escape there was if he would take it. By swerving sharply to the left he might avoid the hostile troopers, and gallop across the plain to the Royalist infantry. It was evident he saw this way out; but his blood was up, and he made straight for the forest of lances.

"Lost!" said I, with a groan. "Poor old Santiago!"

I counted eight men with him, and Royalist and Patriot troops combined held none braver. It was magnificent, and yet terrible, to watch them spring at the ma.s.sed troops, Santiago only slightly in advance of them.

I held my breath as they leaped into the throng and were swallowed up.

We were not near enough to distinguish the flag amidst the flashing sabres and the long-handled lances, but I feared it had fallen with its daring protector.

The tumult showed that some of the brave few still lived, and suddenly I heard General Miller, as if his feelings had surprised him into speech, say in English,--

"By Jove, he's through!"

It was true. There in the distance rode a man bare-headed, waving a flag defiantly, and for all we knew cheering for the king. One by one four others joined him, and continued the gallop: their comrades lay dead on the plain.

Had half the Royalist cavalry possessed Santiago's pluck, the story of this affair at Junin would have had a different ending.

As it was, the Spaniards began to waver. They could barely hold their own against the rea.s.sembled squadrons from the defile, and our arrival had turned the scale. They began to give ground slowly but surely, in spite of their officers' appeals. I saw Santiago again; indeed he was the most conspicuous man, though not the highest officer, on the field.

Wherever the troops seemed weakest, there he was, flag in hand, cheering them on and fighting desperately.

When at last they could stand it no longer, but broke and fled, he got together another little band to protect the retreat. But for him, I doubt whether Canterac would have saved a quarter of his cavalry.

Once, when turning at bay to repel a fiercer rush than usual, he caught sight of me, and his face lit up with a smile. He had been wounded, but not dangerously, and his sword-arm was vigorous as ever.

Again and again, with the aid of his choicest troopers, he stemmed the onset; but his efforts were vain--we were too many. His men dropped one after another, and he was forced to continue the retreat, till the remnant of the Royalist hors.e.m.e.n found shelter behind the lines of their infantry, who greeted us with a scattering fire.

It was now growing dusk, and we could not attack an army, though General Miller decided to hang on a little longer. In the long pursuit our men had become scattered over the plain, and he dispatched various officers to collect them. Then turning to me, he said,--

"Crawford, ride back, find General Bolivar, and tell him the Royalists are in full retreat. If followed up strongly, I believe they would disperse."

Saluting, I turned my horse and rode back rapidly. The scene was bewildering. Officers galloped this way and that, shouting to their men; riderless horses careered madly about; slightly-wounded troopers were hobbling to the rear; others, more unfortunate, lay on the ground groaning and calling for water; while here and there mounted men were escorting groups of prisoners toward our infantry lines.

Several times I stopped to ask where General Bolivar was. He had entered the defile with the cavalry; but from the time our first squadrons were routed I had seen nothing of him. At last an officer told me that, seeing his hors.e.m.e.n overthrown, the general had galloped back to the infantry, which he had posted on a very high hill about a league away.

"He quite expected to be attacked," added my informant, "never dreaming we should recover ourselves. The Peruvians saved us. They are fine fellows!" For in the gathering gloom he could not distinguish my uniform.

"Thanks!" said I, laughing; "I'll repeat that compliment to my comrades," and rode on.

Bolivar was standing, or to be correct, walking about, on the brow of the hill, looking anxiously toward the plain. Several messengers had brought him word of the varying fortunes of the fight, but none had arrived from Miller.

I pa.s.sed close to the head of the Peruvian infantry, and the colonel shouted,--

"What news, Crawford!"

"Good!" I replied, hurrying along; and reaching Bolivar, I jumped to the ground and saluted.

"Where do you come from?" he cried.

"General Miller, sir. The Royalists are in full retreat--horse, foot, and artillery. The general wishes me to say that a vigorous pursuit would probably disperse them altogether."

"Too late," said he; "tell General Miller I have ordered the cavalry to retire on me.--Caza," to one of his officers, "lend--"

"Lieutenant Crawford, sir."

"Lend Lieutenant Crawford your horse; his is done up.--Now ride as fast as you can, and give General Miller my message."

I saluted, sprang into the saddle, dashed past the Peruvian infantry, down the hill, and into the defile. Here I found the main body of our cavalry retiring in accordance with Bolivar's command, and heard that Miller, with a squadron of Peruvians, was still following the Royalists.

It was quite dark now, and the route was covered with hillocks; but I rode on swiftly, trusting to luck, and at length came up with the general, who had halted in his pursuit. On receiving Bolivar's message he immediately gave orders to retire, and about seven o'clock we reached our camping-ground.

Fortunately we managed to collect a little fuel, for the night was so intensely cold that few of the seriously wounded, though receiving every possible attention, survived its rigours. Even lying close to the fire and enveloped in our ponchos we shivered.

A surgeon had sewn up the cut in Alzura's face, and we gave him the most sheltered place, and the one nearest the fire. There was not much sleep for any of us that night; we were far too excited, and spent most of the time fighting the battle over again.

To my delight, every one talked of Santiago and his magnificent bravery.

"Didn't we take him prisoner once, down south?" asked Plaza. "His face seemed familiar to me."

"Yes," said I: "his name is Santiago Mariano, and at that time he was a major."

"Faith," observed Alzura, looking up, "as far as fighting goes, he ought to be a commander-in-chief! A wounded Colombian told me the fellow sprang on them like a lion falling on a herd of deer. A lucky thing for us that the Marianos are in a minority among the Royalists."

"Canterac nearly did the trick though," growled the major. "I thought he would drop on us in that defile. I tell you what it is: Bolivar can thank our colonel that he has any cavalry left."

"Bravo, major! I heard this evening that we saved the army."