With Cochrane the Dauntless Part 25

In October a revolution broke out in Chili, and such indignities were heaped upon the admiral himself that upon the 12th of the month he formally resigned his commission, and in January, 1823, quitted Valparaiso in a vessel chartered by himself, taking with him several European officers and gentlemen, who, like himself, were tired of Chilian ingrat.i.tude, and were ready to follow him in whatever service he engaged.

Stephen had taken no part in the later operations of the fleet. After the capture of the _Esmeralda_ he had been knocked down and very severely injured by a splinter, caused by a shot from the Spanish batteries pa.s.sing through the bulwark close to where he was standing. Lord Cochrane had sent him, with other wounded, in one of the small war-ships down to Valparaiso, and there he was tenderly nursed by Lady Cochrane. It was three months before he fairly recovered his strength, and as soon as he was convalescent he took a berth in a craft that was sailing with stores and provisions for the fleet. They had been out four days when she was caught in a storm on-sh.o.r.e. In vain they tried to beat out; the vessel was a poor sailer, and drifted to leeward faster than she could work to windward.

"What sort of ground tackle have you?" Stephen asked the captain.

"I have two good anchors, senor lieutenant, but the cables are rather old."

"I should advise you to have them brought up on deck and overhauled, and if you find any specially bad places we can cut them out and splice the ends again."

The cables were brought up, but it needed a very short examination only to show Stephen that they were old and worn from end to end. "It will go hard with us if we have to rely upon these," he said. "They would not hold a bluff-bowed craft like this two minutes; the very first roller that struck her would snap them like pack-threads. The worst of it is, captain, that if we escape being drowned we have but the inside of a prison to look to, for we are off the Peruvian coast now, and any of us who get to sh.o.r.e will be seized at once."

"With such a sea as this, senor, there is little chance of any of us being saved if we once strike. We are now somewhere off the mouth of the San Carlos river. In calm weather there would be water enough on the bar for us to run in, but not now; we should strike and go to pieces to a certainty."

"Well, that would depend; we might b.u.mp over it. But even if we did break up on the bar, we should have a much better chance than we should if we went ash.o.r.e anywhere else. Instead of being dashed on the beach by the waves, and then being swept out again, we should be likely to be carried on into the still water behind the bar, and so of making our way to sh.o.r.e.

There are eight of the crew and ourselves. You had better get up ten small casks-those wine barrels would do very well-let the liquor run off, then bung them up again, and fasten life-lines round them; with their help we should have a fair chance."

"It is worth trying at any rate," the captain agreed. "The surf on the bar will be tremendous, but if we could stick to the casks we might get through it."

"Do you think that you are north or south of it now, captain?"

"North, perhaps two or three miles."

"Well, we will go on fighting as long as we can, captain; it is of no use throwing away a chance, and the wind may possibly drop or shift so as to enable us to make off sh.o.r.e; but if we do not see the land before three o'clock I would turn and run in towards it, and then when we get near enough to see objects plainer, head for the south until you see the entrance. When you do we will go straight for it. It is better at any rate to do it while there is daylight to help us."

The barrels were got up and prepared to serve as life-buoys. They had just finished when Stephen made his way a short distance up the rigging. "I can see the line of surf, captain; it is not more than three miles away. You had better take a look at it-you may be able to tell where we are. I think I can make out a place of some size a short distance along."

The captain joined him. "Just as I thought," he said; "that is San Carlos, and the mouth of the river is about a mile beyond it."

"Then you may as well bear away for it at once-the sooner we get it over the better."

"Make your casks fast to something, men," the captain ordered, as he stepped on deck. "The surf will get higher as we get insh.o.r.e, and will, I have no doubt, sweep our decks. When the time comes let each man go to his barrel with his knife in his hand ready to cut the lashings just before we strike."

In half an hour the captain made out the entrance to the river and headed the ship for it.

"There is a heavy sea indeed on the bar," Stephen said as they neared the line of breakers. "You see, I have changed my togs since the gale began, for I saw that unless the wind changed we should find ourselves in difficulties. We have not much mercy to expect as Chilian sailors. I should have none if it were known that I am a naval officer. Will you tell the men that if we get ash.o.r.e and I too am saved, they had best hold their tongue about my rank. In the first place it would do me harm, and in the next it would damage you all were it known you had one of Cochrane's officers on board, for it would show at once that you were on your way to our fleet; whereas if it is supposed that you are merely an ordinary coaster you may be let off unharmed."

"There is not much chance for us either way," the captain said. "If we fall into the hands of the Spaniards they will probably hang us at once, while the country people may cut our throats so as to save themselves the trouble of handing us over to the Spaniards. We are no more than a hundred miles from the frontier, and if we do get to sh.o.r.e our best chance will be to try and make our way down the coast, travelling at night and lying up in the daytime. But anyhow I will tell the men what you say."

"Get all the sail upon her you can, captain-the faster she is travelling the more chance she has of getting over the bar."

"I will shake out the mainsail," the captain said. "Then all hands had better gather aft-the masts are sure to fall over her bows as soon as she strikes."

In a few minutes the ship was nearing the breakers at a high rate of speed. The men were all gathered aft, each with his barrel. Stephen held his breath as they mounted the last great wave outside the surf. Borne along by the great wind and the impetus of the waves, the vessel plunged head-foremost into the surf, which poured in cataracts on to her deck.

There was a slight shock, which caused the vessel to tremble, but she was swept along by the fury of the surf. Another wave lifted her high into the air, and as it pa.s.sed from under her she struck again. This time the shock was tremendous. Every man was thrown off his feet, the masts went over with a crash, and most of the hands were swept overboard by the torrent that poured in over the stern. Stephen had grasped one of the back-stays, and though it seemed to him for a moment that his arms were being pulled from their sockets, he still maintained his grasp. Another and even greater sea than those that had preceded it thundered down upon them.

There was a forward move and then another crash, and Stephen felt himself floating in the water, holding on to the keg. Glancing round he saw that the ship had gone altogether. She had broken up completely, and the sea was covered with floating timbers.

The danger from this was greater than from the waves, and he let go his hold of the barrel and dived, swimming under water at right angles to the run of the waves as long as he could hold his breath. When he came up he looked round. He was beyond the wreckage, and was also inside the line of surf. Had the wave carried the ship her own length farther she would have been out of danger. The river bank was but a couple of hundred yards away.

The water was still rough, but it was a long heavy swell rather than a stormy sea, and Stephen, who had kicked off his shoes before the ship struck, at once swam for the sh.o.r.e, and was not long in reaching it. After resting for a minute or two he walked along the bank, and soon made out four barrels that had men still clinging to them. Gradually, too, these made their way ash.o.r.e; the swimmers were all men who had been carried away by the first wave that had swept over the boat. Of the others he could see no signs. He thought he could make out two or three barrels in the middle of the wreckage, but of this he was not sure, and had little doubt that those who were with him at the time the ship went to pieces had all been killed by the floating timber.

"Now, men," he said, when the four survivors had joined him, "shall we keep together or try to make our way separately?"

The men consulted together, and then said that they thought they would have more chance of making their way south were they to separate. Stephen was glad of this decision, which, he had no doubt was arrived at from the fear that if they were taken, and he was recognized to be an Englishman, it would make their treatment worse than it would otherwise be. He himself much preferred to go alone; he had no authority over these men, and five men together were more likely to attract attention than one alone. Looking across the river they saw a number of people on the opposite bank. They were evidently inhabitants of the town, who, having seen the ship running for sh.o.r.e, had come down to watch her fate, and to give any a.s.sistance in their power. Stephen saw that they were waving their hands for them to make up the bank, where there might be a ferry-boat to take them over. He pointed this out to the men, and said, "I am afraid we shall be pursued ere long. Of course, at present they take us for their own people; but when they see that we do not cross, they will suspect the truth, and will send over to see whether we have taken shelter in some village there may be on this side. When they hear that we have not done so, they will guess that we are Chilians, and there will be a hot pursuit for us. We will walk together for a little way along the bank as if going in the direction that they point to. They are not likely to stay long where they are; some will go back to the town now that there is nothing to see, others will no doubt remain on the bank to collect wreckage that may be washed ash.o.r.e, a few may go on to the ferry and wait there for us. If there are any boats in the river you may be sure they will soon put out to collect floating casks and bales."

The little crowd was indeed just beginning to break up, and after going a short distance Stephen and his companions left the river and started south. After going two or three hundred yards they shook hands and separated, the sailors striking more inland, while Stephen took for the present a course that ran parallel with the sea-coast. It was already growing dark, and Stephen was worn out with the excitement of the day, so that after going on for an hour, he lay down in a clump of trees and went to sleep. It was broad daylight when he awoke, and on walking to the edge of the trees he saw a village a few hundred yards in front of him. He made a long detour to pa.s.s it, and was proceeding along a well-beaten path when he heard the sound of horses' hoofs behind, and looking round saw four Spanish troopers riding towards him. Escape was out of the question, and he walked quietly on in the faint hope that they might pa.s.s without stopping him. This, however, was improbable; his hair was matted with sea water, his clothes still wet-his whole appearance too evidently that of a shipwrecked man. They stopped when they reached him.

"You are one of the men who were cast ash.o.r.e last night?" a sergeant said.

"I am," Stephen replied frankly.

"My orders are to take you back to San Carlos. Where are your companions?"

"I do not know," Stephen replied. "We separated at once; I went my way and they went theirs."

"You are a Chilian," the man said; "anyone can tell it by your speech."

Stephen by this time spoke the language so fluently indeed that he could have pa.s.sed as a native. There was, however, sufficient difference between the dialects of Peru and Chili for it to be seen at once that he was not a Peruvian. He did not reply directly to the question.

"We were on a trader," he said. "The captain and four of the men were lost; five of us gained the sh.o.r.e. We were not on an armed ship, and cannot be considered enemies."

"The whole race of you are enemies," the sergeant said. "You are rebels and traitors every one of you. Gomez, do you and Martinez take this man back to San Carlos, and hand him over to the governor. I will ride on with Sancho and see if we can come up with the other fellows; as there are half a dozen parties out in search we are pretty sure to lay hands on them before nightfall."

On the way back Stephen, as he walked between the two hors.e.m.e.n, debated whether it would be better to allow them to remain under the impression that he was a Chilian, or declare himself an English officer. In the former case he would most likely be shot without ceremony, in the latter he might probably be sent up to Callao or Lima. It might make no difference in his fate, but at least might delay it; and if he could but manage to communicate his position to Lord Cochrane, the latter would certainly take instant steps to offer one or more of the many Spanish officers who were prisoners in his hands in exchange for him, or would threaten that if any harm came to him he would give no quarter to Spanish officers in future. At any rate the latter seemed to promise him the better chance, and accordingly when on his arrival at San Carlos he was taken before the governor, he replied boldly to the question, "Who are you?"

"I am Lieutenant Stephen Embleton, flag officer to Admiral Cochrane."

The words created a sensation among the officers standing behind the governor.

"You dare to say this!" the governor exclaimed furiously.

"I am giving a simple answer to your question, senor," Stephen said quietly. "When we ask the Spanish officers who fall into our hands what their names are, they reply as I have done, truthfully, and they are treated as I expect to be treated, honourably; especially as I have not been captured by you when in arms, but have simply had the misfortune to be shipwrecked on your coast."

The quiet tone of the reply had its effect. The officers spoke a few words together in a low tone, and the governor said more calmly than he had before spoken:

"How am I to know that this story is true?"

"I have no means of proving it now," Stephen replied; "but if I am taken to Callao, a message sent to Lord Cochrane under a flag of truce would speedily bring back a letter verifying my story."

"But how did you come to be on board that craft that was wrecked?"

"I was wounded, senor, at the action in the port of Callao. A splinter caused by a shot from one of your batteries struck me when on the deck of the _Esmeralda_. I was sent down to Valparaiso. Your surgeon can examine me and will find that the wound has but lately healed. Being anxious to rejoin my ship as soon as possible, I did not wait for a ship of war going up, but took pa.s.sage in a Chilian trader."

[Ill.u.s.tration: STEPHEN IS BOUND AND BROUGHT BEFORE THE GOVERNOR OF SAN CARLOS.]

"Doubtless conveying stores to the Chilian fleet," the governor remarked.

"She may have had stores of that kind on board," Stephen said, "but that was no affair of mine. I simply took a pa.s.sage in her, and paid for it.

The admiral is expecting me, and will, I am sure, be ready to exchange an officer of superior rank for me."