Where Duty Called Part 23

Their disappointment was brightened somewhat by the joy with which Francisco hailed his liberty. He embraced his American friends, and showered upon them praises for their action in his behalf. When he was told about his mother, he grew less demonstrative, but learning that she was unharmed, with a promise of good protection, he recovered exuberance of spirits.

"I shall accept any commission General Castro will bestow upon me," he said, "and I will show him my fealty to him and the true government of my country. I am impatient to see him."

Knowing nothing could be gained by remaining longer at San Carlos, our heroes returned to the army at once. Having learned that he had removed to Oc.u.mare, they headed thither, learning all along the way that the insurgents were everywhere successful, until it seemed as if the government was doomed. These accounts were rendered more hopeless to the cause by the fact that before they could reach him, Castro had begun his retreat toward Caracas.

In the face of this, he issued his decree of amnesty to all insurgents laying down arms within forty days.

"Unless he makes some more decided stand and wins a decided victory to offset all this noise on the other side, Castro will have no government for them to lay down their arms to," said Jack, grimly. "Of course it isn't my dish that's cooking, but I feel just like saying so much."

"General Castro will act decisively when the time comes, according to his idea," said Ronie.

In the midst of this uncertainty word reached them from La Guayra that the cables were to be cut, and that Minister Bowen had sent to Washington for warships.

Castro's next movement was to take charge of his troops at Guaicaipuro, and to establish his government there. Then followed the week's battle with the insurgents led by Mendoza at La Gloria, which was to prove the turning point in the war. Colonel Marchand's regiment of volunteers was there, and in the thickest of the fight our heroes had ample opportunity to prove the metal of which American soldiers are made. It was a bitter fight, the more trying as it was made with bush-fighters--scattered bodies of men who fought after the style of the North American Indians, from behind trees, or whatever cover was at hand. Fortunately, our friends escaped without a scratch, though Colonel Marchand received an ugly wound that was likely to drive him from the field for a time.

His was not the only regiment that covered itself with glory, for there was another, led by a boyish captain, who seemed everywhere in the thickest of the fight. This little band gained the high-water mark of the battle, and it was that more than any other which turned the tide of the struggle and made of La Victoria a victory indeed. The name of that gallant leader, who received special mention in the list of honor, was Francisco de Caprian. General Castro had no longer any reason to doubt his loyalty to Venezuela, and the president greeted him with the promise that his conduct had chased away the shadows upon his family name.

The result of this victory for the government at La Victoria was such that Matos, the head of the insurgents, gave up active command, while Castro prepared for a triumphal return to Caracas.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE SPY OF CARACAS.

Immediately after the victory at La Victoria our three Americans were forced to part with Francisco, who was to return to the capital with General Castro, while they were called to Don Isadora's estate, the owner thinking he had got on the track of a clew to the whereabouts of Mrs. Rand. The don received them with open arms, he having fully recovered from the effects of his wounds, but the errand proved fruitless, and they felt obliged to abandon the quest in this vicinity.

So they again found themselves in La Guayra. But their stay here was short. Ronie was anxious to get to Caracas, that he might consult with Mr. Bowen, to see if nothing could be done by him toward finding his mother. General Castro was also to join with him, and altogether he felt very hopeful, though aware that his mother might be beyond his power of help before this. But he was a brave youth, and he resolved to do all he could and hope for the best.

It has been said that the capital of Venezuela, while only five miles inland from its port, La Guayra, is situated in the mountains, three thousand feet above the seash.o.r.e. The railroad which connects the two coils about this rugged ascent like a steel lariat thrown by a dextrous hand, now winding in and out where some bottomless abyss is encircled like a huge letter U upon the landscape, or anon clinging upon the rim of some sharp-pointed rock, where the same train creeps around the angle, showing mortal fear by its snail-like pace. Another has aptly compared it to a spider's thread strung from crag to crag. Time and again the engineer can look back from his cab into the windows of the rear coach, while between him and the object of his gaze yawns a rock-walled well hundreds of feet in depth.

The young engineers were standing on the rear platform, watching with admiring gaze the wild scene stretching away from their feet.

"Isn't it grand, magnificent!" exclaimed Harrie. "I never saw its equal. Did ever you, Jack?"

"Nothing to surpa.s.s it, lad; not even the Alpine Pa.s.s of the Colorado.

Where can one find a grander combination of sea, plain, valley and mountain? And whoever saw a greener plain on a bluer sea?"

"Or a sky quite as serene," added Harrie.

Ronie was fain to agree with his enthusiastic companions, while they admired together the rugged panorama falling away from them to the foothills trending from the base of the mountain like the huge roots of some great tree which had burst from their imprisonment in the earth and stood out as the bold supports of the mighty burden they upheld.

Between these ridges, or leaping from their gnarled sides in silvery cascades, numerous streams of water made bright bands on the background of gray and dark green. Below the mountains, groves of royal palms, standing with park-like regularity and so far apart that their white trunks shone like pillars cased in silver foil, were to be seen. Out from among these gleamed the white and yellow roofs of the cottages of the people. Beyond these glistened the white line of breakers, forever coming and forever going, leaving only a chalk mark to tell where they have been but will never be again. Outside of this lay old ocean, throbbing under the hot, fierce tropical sun like a hunted creature panting to get its breath, but never resting.

Still up, up, crept the iron conqueror, until it broke the veil of mist in cloudland, up where the trees were jeweled with dewdrops and the track reeked with the wine of the sky. At one place they could look down into three thousand feet of s.p.a.ce, and soon after their sight was gladdened by the view of the valley on the other side and the thrice welcome sight of Caracas. Again they were pleased by the happy blending of art and nature, the beautiful country, the basin under its stupendous rim, the city marked by the towers of its numerous churches, the dazzling roofs of public buildings, the regular streets lined with picturesque cottages, the gardens of white houses of the coffee planters, and beyond more mountains.

Caracas was founded by Diego de Losada in 1567, and named the "City of Santiago de Leon de Caracas." The picturesque valley which forms its site was the capital of the heroic tribe of natives known as "the people of Caracas," which name was very appropriately given to the capital of the race which after two hundred years of warfare succeeded in annihilating the original owners of the soil. This long struggle against the stronger power by the weaker forms one of the most glorious pages in South American history, and scintillates with deeds of heroism and human sacrifice.

Now the ascent has been made, they find that the city is overlooked by mountains smooth and bare of trees, but covered with a light-green sward, except where some stream affords a band of a darker tint. The clouds seem of more than northern fleeciness, and hang over the peaks like smoke, or float lazily from valley to valley, giving varying hues to the beautiful landscape. The climate is delightful; the first impressions of the capital pleasing.

Caracas has a population of about eighty thousand, it being the usage that only one family shall occupy a house. It is a city of culture and fashion, of public statues to scholars and artists, as well as warriors, for not all of the history of this interesting republic is filled with war. While a land of hotheaded people, whose career has been largely filled with riots and revolutions, here and there are to be found evidences of a high civilization, producing marked contracts of the rival forces of man.

What struck our energetic American as unexpected was the air of repose which rested upon the scene, giving little hint of the excitement reigning outside. Slowly along the streets, as if there was no occasion for haste, moved trains of mules bearing on their backs bags of coffee, or quite enveloped under huge bales of fodder, which had the appearance at a distance of some huge, lifeless bulk upon legs. Then there were bodies of foot soldiers, wearing blue uniforms with scarlet trousers and facings, also moving with a deliberation which at least bespoke their importance. This sight was enlivened by the appearance of an open fiacre whirled along the street by a pair of small but fiery horses, driven by a coachman from his high box seat, the gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs to his hat and coat rivaled for brightness by the ornaments on his top boots. Evidently the carriage bore some person of importance in haste to his destination.

The cause of this undue haste, as well as the disturbance of the equanimity of this everyday sight, was explained by the sounds of another party approaching. Then, as the travelers upon the streets moved with unaccustomed celerity to one side, a body of men mounted upon high-stepping horses, strikingly caparisoned and carefully groomed, appeared in sight, the riders presenting a bold effect in their uniforms of white duck and high black boots.

"The president's bodyguard," said Ronie. "General Castro and his troops have returned, and we have got here just in the nick of time."

"There is the general riding in the center," declared Harrie. "How the people are cheering him! It cannot be that they knew of his coming so soon. Shall we follow them?"

"Perhaps we might as well," said Ronie. "I suppose Francisco is in the train somewhere. Ay, look, boys! there he comes. Doesn't he look fine? He has the natural military bearing of his race. Well, I am glad of his good fortune."

With these words Ronie began to move along with the crowd which had quickly collected, and cheering l.u.s.tily began to surge ahead in the direction taken by the martial train that now moved along the street farther than they could look. It was not long before they found themselves surrounded by a jostling, but good-natured, mob, each member of which seemed determined to keep in sight of the marching column.

The band had now begun to play, and as the strains of martial music filled the air, Ronie Rand was conscious of hearing a voice muttering in a deep, sullen tone:

"Curses upon him! His triumph shall be short. Soon shall the sons of----"

The rest, if spoken aloud, and the words given seemed to have been uttered involuntarily, were lost to our hero, but he caught his breath at what he had heard. It was not the import of the words, but the tone of the speaker which caused such emotion that he could constrain himself with difficulty from trying to break through the mob and find him. It was the voice of Manuel Marlin, of San Carlos!

So satisfied was Ronie of this fact that he immediately tried to push his way forward so as to reach the man, whispering for his companions to follow. But people in a crowd like that give away slowly, when they can, and when Ronie had reached the spot where the other must have been at that time he was missing. Nor could he find any trace of him.

"I am sure it was he," he said to Harrie and Jack, as soon as he explained his sudden action. "But he has slipped away from me."

"Let's keep along. He will doubtless follow the throng," said Harrie.

So they moved with the spectators toward the most notable building in Caracas, the Federal Palace, which is built around a great square overflowing with flowers and fountains, and lighted by swinging electric lights. The palace is lightly built, and though painted in imitation of stone, looks like an airy castle which might be blown over at the next flaw of wind. It is profusely ornamented with statues made either of plaster of Paris or of wood painted so as to imitate marble.

If this gives the building an unstable appearance and given over to frivolous amus.e.m.e.nts, it is in keeping with its environments, the high-colored walls and open fronts of the adjoining buildings that help to fill this American Paris, and it is by all odds the handsomest building in the city. And, rather than given over to scenes of frivolity and mimic life, here are the chambers of the two branches of legislature, the different offices of the department of state, and the reception hall of the president, in which is the national portrait gallery. The dome of this chamber, which is two hundred feet in length, and bears many pictures of warlike scenes, is painted with a panorama of life-size figures depicting the last battle of the Venezuelans against the Spaniards. It is really a work of artistic merit. So, altogether, the Federal Palace is a building of substantial business, and it has played an important part in the shifting affairs of the republic.

To Guzman Blanco, more than all others, does the city owe these public buildings. These were originally convents or monasteries, until Guzman overthrew the power of the church. The Federal Palace was one of these church buildings, so was the present opera house and the university.

All of them seem well located for their new uses, and go to show that the church must have had a strong hold on the wealth of the capital before this daring adventurer overcame them.

Anxious to get sight of this spy, if possible, Ronie and Harrie did not try to get in so as to witness the president's reception, though Jack did so, in the hope that he might find the man if he should dare to remain with the crowd. But the rest of the day pa.s.sed, however, without bringing success to them, and the two young engineers were standing near the entrance to one of those cathedrals which form such an important portion of the buildings of the capital. They had barely gained a position where they could watch the comers and goers without being noticed themselves, when they were glad to see Captain Francisco de Caprian approaching, with their old-time friend, Jack Greenland.

Naturally, the countenance of the first was radiant with joyous excitement.

"It has been a great day for Caracas," he said. "President Castro has reason to be proud of it, as nothing has happened to mar its perfect harmony. Yet there is a rumor afloat--I know not how it got started--that there is a secret enemy in the capital, a spy, waiting for a favorable chance to strike a deadly blow at the hero himself."

"I suppose efforts will be made to capture him?" said Ronie.

"Be a.s.sured of that. A handsome reward is offered. Oh, they will get him, soon or late."

Then a sigh escaped the lips of the handsome young officer, and he murmured to himself rather than to his companions:

"I would, dear father, you might have been spared to witness this day, for I believe you would have rejoiced with the rest of us." Then, suddenly remembering his companions, he said: "Forgive me, senors, but to me these very shadows of this building are sacred. It was here, in the last revolution, my dear father, with nine others, made their final stand and fought so good a fight that it was found necessary to build a fire in the tower and smoke them out with the fumes of sulphur. Ay, it was a desperate test for the ten," said Francisco, while his dark eyes lighted with an intense light and his thin hand quivered spasmodically.

"Did your father and his friends perish?" asked Harrie and Ronie, both deeply interested in this simple narrative.

"It was their only alternative, senors, for to yield meant death and torture. Father, let it be said to his credit, gave his companions opportunity to surrender; but, let it be said to their credit, they stood bravely together. Then, their last shot spent, and the fumes of the drug rapidly overpowering them, they threw themselves from the tower into the street. It is said they went downward to their fate with clasped hands. I am glad I did not witness the sad sight. But I believe a brighter day is dawning for poor Venezuela, and that her brave defenders did not give their lives in vain."

Our three friends were deeply touched with this pathetic story, related in such gentle tones as to make it seem like some sweet vision rather than one of grim war's bitter sacrifices. Looking beyond their heroic companion, they were struck with the peacefulness of their environments, so well in accord with the manner of the speaker, all tending to soften the tragic interest of the scene of warlike and heroic action. Where the ill-fated band of patriots, the last to make a stand at that time, must have fallen, ran the sunken rails of the tram cars, and in sight were the notion shops and confectionery stores, where laughing, prattling children were wont to come to find the simple toys and playthings to amuse them. At nighttime electric lights illuminated with their dazzling splendor the now peaceful scene, while seekers of religious promises wended their way softly in and out of the old cathedral.