Fitz the Filibuster Part 52

REAL WAR.

There was little sleep that night for those on board, for once his little cargo was discharged, the skipper had everything made snug and ready for putting to sea if necessary at a moment's notice.

Most of the men had been busy over the landing of the cases and guns, and Fitz had thoroughly enjoyed the looking on, feeling a strange longing the while to go ash.o.r.e and superintend the unpacking and putting together of the gun-limbers, and the mounting of the pieces. Not that there was a great deal to do, for, in obedience to instructions, the British manufacturers had sent the little field-guns with everything so simplified that the rough artillery-men from the Central American fort had few difficulties with which to contend. He saw little of Poole in the darkness, but knew that he was busy over something with a couple of men at his beck, while a third had had a duty of his own where a bright light had gleamed out and a little chimney had roared in a way which made Poole anxiously consult his father, who was superintending the landing of cases, when in their brief conversation something was said about sparks, and then a couple of tarpaulins were rigged up with lines, in a way which entirely cut off the galley from the rest of the deck.

The result of all this was, that when the deck was clear and hatches replaced, the Camel stood smiling, with glistening face, for his work too was done, and the fresh provisions that had been abundantly brought on board by the women of the place were in a most welcome form for the half-starved, weary crew, and about midnight there was something as nearly like a banquet as could be expected under the circ.u.mstances, and to the delight of all.

There had been no form; the only ceremony had been for officers and men to sit down sailor or tailor fashion, cross-legged upon the deck, and eat as much as such men would.

"Hah!" said the boatswain, turning towards the two lads, after being very silent for quite half-an-hour. "I call this something like; but I do hope as the Camel's had time to pick a bit."

So busy had the party on board been, that they had thought little about the proceedings on sh.o.r.e, the less so that the excitement and noise of shouting orders, trampling feet, and the buzz of chattering women and children had drifted farther and farther away to the opposite side of the town, where beyond the low houses and hovels of the poorer part of the population the long low valley commenced which rapidly became a pa.s.s, the key, so to speak, of the little city.

Here Don Ramon had mustered his force, and here during the rest of the night his men worked by the light of the stars, making a wall of stones with openings for the field-pieces, and clearing the road behind between them and the earthwork nearer to the fort, to which in case of emergency they could be withdrawn ready for another stand.

He was no novice in such matters, having pa.s.sed his life as he had amidst a volcanic people where revolutions came and went as if indigenous to the countries bordering upon the Mexican Gulf.

In his way he was no bad soldier, and in fact a better man than his rival the tyrant and oppressor, whom he had been urged by the superior part of his fellow-countrymen to supplant.

Hence it was that before morning, and without interruption, he made the most of the rough but enthusiastic and willing materials to his hand, so that at last he could breathe more freely and accept the congratulations of his friends over the knowledge they shared that Villarayo would find when he came up that not only had he a formidable nut to crack, but the probability before him that the nutcrackers would give way first.

All this was plain enough in the coming daylight, when the skipper and the two lads made their way ash.o.r.e in one of the boats from the spot where the _Teal_ was moored, floating more lightly now, and almost as gracefully in the pearly grey light as the beautiful little waterfowl after which she was named.

"Why, it looks almost like an anthill," said Fitz, as they approached the mouth of the pa.s.s, whose sides were dotted with men, most of whom were carrying rifles, while each displayed a formidable knife in his belt. "But there doesn't seem to be any sign of the enemy as yet."

"No," said Poole; "but I say, father, do you think that they will be able to manage those guns?"

"Yes," said the skipper gravely. "The men who had the gumption to plant them like that will be pretty sure to find out the way to use them with effect. Besides, they have had some experience, of course, with the old-fashioned pieces in the fort."

"There go their colours up!" cried Fitz excitedly, as the national flag was run up to the head of the flagstaff that had been raised during the night. "I hope they'll win, Captain Reed, for the Don's been very plucky, and I suppose he is in the right."

"If he hadn't been in the right I wouldn't have helped him as I have,"

said the skipper gruffly.

"No," said Poole firmly, as if to endorse his father's words. "But don't you think, father, that if you brought all our chaps ash.o.r.e to set these men by the guns at liberty and leave our lads to work them, they'd manage them much better--fire more regularly and twice as fast?"

"Yes, that they would," cried Fitz excitedly. "There's hardly one of them who doesn't know his gun-drill."

"How do you know that?" said the skipper grimly.

"Oh, I asked them," replied the lad, flushing. "They all talk to me about their old life on board different Queen's ships. It was because I was a midshipman, I suppose. Why," he continued, growing more excited by what he saw, "our Chips--I mean, your Chips," he said, hastily correcting himself--"would make a splendid captain for one of the guns; Mr b.u.t.ters another, of course; and the Camel, though he's cook now.

Oh, I could man all those guns easily."

"Like to do it, perhaps," said the skipper dryly, "and fancy that battery was the broadside of a ship?"

"Yes, of course," said the lad; "I mean--" he stammered--"that is--Oh, it's nothing to do with me."

"No," said the skipper quietly, as he stood looking critically at the preparations Don Ramon had made, while the scene around seemed to have had the same peculiar exciting effect upon his son as it had upon the midshipman, for Poole said suddenly--

"Why, father, if you were to do that it would make all the difference, and be like turning the scale to Don Ramon's side."

"Yes, my boy," said the skipper, "and here he is;" for the Don suddenly appeared, mounted upon a st.u.r.dy mule, cantering towards them, with his steed making very light of the rugged stony ground, and stopping short close up to the group in response to a touch upon its rein, when its rider sprang lightly to the ground, looking as wiry and fresh as the beast he rode, in spite of the labours of the night.

"Ah, my friend! Welcome!" he cried. "And you too, my braves. Now," he added joyously, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "have not my brave fellows worked? Are we not ready for the enemy when he comes? What have you to say? There are the guns! Tell me, are they well-placed?

You who have brought them know so much. If they are not right, tell me what to do, and it shall be done."

"I would not alter anything now," said the skipper gravely.

"Why not, if they, are wrong? There is time, and plenty, for my scouts are far enough away, and the enemy is not in sight."

The skipper was silent, but his eyes were not idle, and he seemed to be examining every disposition closely.

"He does not speak," continued Don Ramon. "Then you, my young English officer; you come from a ship with guns, what have you to say?"

"I was wondering," said Fitz, flushing, "not about the guns, for they seem well-placed, but whether the enemy could come down that little valley up yonder or get round by the rear."

"No, no, no," cried the Don exultantly. "Velova can only be reached by this pa.s.s, which my guns command. There is no other way--by land--but there is the sea."

"And the gunboat?" said Fitz.

"Ah-h, yes, the gunboat!" cried the Don, with his face convulsed, as he clenched his hands. "The gunboat--yes. It is the key to the Presidency."

"No," said the skipper suddenly, "I would change nothing, Don Ramon. As far as I know, your position is magnificent."

"Hah!" cried the Don, with his face smoothing once more, and his eyes lighting up with pleasure. "But you think my grand, my beautiful and perfect little guns that you have brought me are well-placed?"

"Capitally," said the skipper sincerely. "But they are not perfect,"

said the Don, with a peculiar smile, as he keenly watched the skipper the while. "There is one thing wanting."

"Surely not," cried the skipper angrily. "I saw them packed myself, and I can answer for it that nothing was left out, unless it was in the hurry of the unpacking last night. Quick, while there is time! What has been left behind? Do you mean there is something still on board?"

"Yes, my good friend," said the Don softly; "the crew. Captain Reed,"

he continued excitedly, "with your brave fellows to man that battery the day must be my own. Villarayo's sun would set in blood and dust; my poor oppressed country would rise in pride to happiness and peace; and I should be President indeed--my people's father--he who has saved them from slavery and chains."

The skipper shook his head.

"No, no," continued the Don softly. "Listen. This country is rich in mines; there are precious stones; there is no reward you could ask me afterwards that I would not give. I care for nothing of these things, for I am fighting for my country and my people's homes. Captain Reed, you have always been my friend, my trusted friend, who brought me all these in answer to my prayer. There is this one thing more. I ask it of my trusted friend."

Poole glanced at his father's stern face, which seemed to turn colder and harder than he had ever seen it before, and then turned quickly to look at Fitz, who was watching him with questioning eyes which seemed to say, What will he reply?

But reply there was none, apparently for minutes, though the s.p.a.ce of time that elapsed could have been numbered in moments, before he spoke, and then it was in a low, softened and pained voice.

"No, Don Ramon," he said. "You ask me for what I cannot give."

"Give!" cried the Don pa.s.sionately. "I offer to pay you!"

"Yes, sir," said the captain, without changing his tone, "and that makes it worse. I tell you my heart is with you in your project, and that I wish you success, but I am answerable to those men, their friends, and I suppose to my country's laws for their lives. I have no right to enter into such an enterprise as this."

"Why?" cried the Don pa.s.sionately. "You fought with me before!"